Broken Trouble (Broken Storm Series Book 1)

Chapter 1

I sat beside my parole officer, Mrs. Hinndle, in her small car, trying to prepare myself for the sight that lay ahead. I hadn't been back here since that night when I watched their barn become engulfed in flames.

The judge had sent me back here to help them rebuild their barn and myself. He had said this would be my last chance to turn my life around, otherwise it wouldn't be juvenile detention again, but prison. My future lay in the hands of the owners of the ranch.

The beat of rock music thumped from the ear-buds in my ears, my parole officer rambled on about how I should behave and handle everything from this point forward. I wasn't paying any attention, we both knew whatever she said wouldn't matter anyway, I did what I did and there was nothing she could say that could help. It was her job to say these things though, so she kept talking and I kept listening to my music.

The car slowed to a stop in front of the massive ranch house, the blackened pit of despair was all that was left of the barn sat opposite of the house.

I avoided looking at it.

The front door of the ranch house opened and a woman stepped out, drying her hands on her apron before waving in greeting. Mrs. Hinndle smiled what I'm sure was supposed to be a reassuring smile at me before getting out of the car to talk to the woman. I slipped my ear-buds out of my ears to hear what they were saying, but could only hear the soft twang of the country music they were playing somewhere nearby.

Mrs. Hinndle shook hands with the woman on the porch before they sat on the swing, talking to each other while I continued waiting in the car. I wouldn't get out of the car until they told me to, I didn't want to stand there awkwardly with them while they talked about me like I wasn't there. I'd done that before and staying in the car was the least humiliating way to go.

So here I sat, trying to listen to the murmur of their voices, which were just that, a murmur, making it impossible for me to make out what they were saying to each other. Instead, I studied their expressions to judge the atmosphere I would be walking into. Mrs. Hinndle had her usual calm, collected, all-business expression she always used, making it impossible to know how it was going. The other woman appeared contemplative and understanding, which didn't make much sense since I knew they were talking about the person who had burned down their barn: me.

Even though it had been accidental, I was sure this woman would be feeling much differently than she was right now, when she came face to face with me.

Mrs. Hinndle stood up from the swing and motioned to me to get out of the car. The other woman's eyes turned and locked onto the car, following me as I took a deep breath and stepped out of it. I slung my backpack of belongings over my shoulder and closed the door, spotting a couple guys leaning up against some fencing a short distance away, watching me. I kept my head down and went to the porch, deciding that maybe it would be best not to look directly at people unless absolutely necessary. This way I wouldn't have to see the pure disgust on their faces, something I was far too used to seeing when people looked at me.

As I reached the top of the steps, I slowed down even more, ambling to a stop a couple feet from where Mrs. Hinndle and the woman sat. There was plenty of space to be able to take off running if I needed to, though I probably wouldn't be able to outrun the bullet from their gun, which I was sure they had hidden somewhere close. All the books I'd read seemed to contain some country hick shooting or killing trespassers and city folk.

Last time I was here; I didn't pay any attention to being on someone else's land. Now, after all that had happened, I felt like I was trespassing more than I ever had before. I shouldn't be here and their stares embedded it into my mind more and more with each passing second.