The Third Strike: Rogues of Everly Prep Book Three

by Wendi Wilson

  They began to move, turning in a slow circle as they danced like they were stars in their own eighties teen movie. The other students crowded in a semicircle to watch, leaving a clear view for me to see from where I stood.

  Almost as if it were by design.

  As that thought crossed my mind, Charlotte’s muddy gaze met mine. A slow, feline smile curved her lips as she stared at me with satisfaction shining in her eyes. Then she looked up at Mason, tightened her grip in his hair and pulled his face down, shoving her tongue into his mouth.

  Whoops and hollers echoed around me, but I barely noticed. My scope of vision narrowed onto Charlotte’s blonde head as the heat of rage filled my body.

  Without warning, I snatched my elbow from Josh’s grip and ran toward the king and queen as fast as my four-inch heels would allow. He called my name, but I ignored him. I ignored the gasps of the crowd as I barreled toward Charlotte, claws extended and guttural growl flowing from my lips.

  My fingers tangled in her long bottle-blonde hair, tearing her out of Mason’s grip and throwing her to the floor. She screeched as she rolled over onto her back just in time for me to land on top of her. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air as my dress tore to make room for my spread legs, but I ignored it.

  I had one objective, and that was rip out Charlotte Rutherford’s dark heart after I beat the shit out of her.

  She bucked and twisted, but couldn’t escape the cage of my thighs as I landed two good punches to her face. She screamed in pain and anger, and the sound seemed to shock everyone out of the stupor they’d fallen into at my unprecedented attack.

  I was sure none of these rich assholes had ever seen a street brawl, much less participated in one.

  Hands grabbed at me as I twisted and fought, hissing and biting at the good Samaritans trying to rescue their beloved queen. Despite my struggles, my weight lifted off her, but I got in a couple of good kicks before the strong hands holding me dragged me away.

  “What are you doing?”

  The harsh words, spoken in Mason’s deep, beautiful voice, cut through the haze of alcohol-fueled rage. My body slumped with exhaustion as the angry tension drained out of me, Mason’s grip the only thing keeping me from melting into a puddle of goo on the floor.

  A gust of cool air brushed my skin as Mason pulled me outside, away from the stares of the other students, parents, and faculty.

  “Chaz,” he said, giving me a little shake when my eyes wouldn’t focus on him. “What did you do?”

  His voice was filled with such horror, whatever buzz I was rocking vanished. My eyes widened as I stared back at him, shaking my head in quick, uneven motions.

  “I don’t know,” I breathed. “The punch…it was spiked, and I got drunk and she kissed you, and…I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said, releasing me to pace back and forth a few times. “Best case scenario, everyone chalks this up to you being jealous that I’m back with Charlotte.”

  “And worst case?”

  He paused and stared at me with pain-filled eyes. “My parents take this as a personal attack, accuse me of still harboring a secret relationship with you, and ship Stella off to Europe to get married.”

  “No. They wouldn’t,” I stuttered. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Tell them it was me. Tell them I’m crazy and violent, and you’re glad to be rid of me. Tell them whatever’s necessary to save Stella.”

  “I’ll try,” he said, shaking his head before leaving me there alone to go back inside.

  Back to Charlotte.

  But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was the disappointment shining in his eyes as he walked away.

  17

  “Oh, God.”

  I moaned the words as I rolled over onto my side, attempting to curl up into the smallest, tightest ball I could manage. My head felt like there was a jackhammer going off inside it, the pain clouding out all coherent thought.

  An incessant tinkling sound had me blinking my eyes open. I groaned and slapped my hand down on my nightstand, swiping my phone from its surface and holding it front of my face. I squinted as the brightness of the screen hurt my eyes. Blinking a few times, I focused on the time—it was only eight a.m.

  The device continue to chime as notification bubble after notification bubble popped up on the screen. I tapped one, opening the social media app.

  “Two hundred and seventy-six notifications?”

  I sat up too quickly, and the pain in my headed exploded to something near-unbearable. I squeezed my eyes shut until the pain ebbed a little, and when I cracked my lids to look back at my phone, the notifications had added up to well over three hundred.

  “What the hell?” I muttered, tapping on the screen until it showed me the post that was sending me all the notifications.

  I was tagged in a video clip, and I leaned back against my pillows as I started it, turning up the volume.

  “That bitch is crazy!”

  “Are you okay, Charlotte? I can’t believe she did that.”

  Charlotte stood in the center of the frame, her hair a tangled mess and bruises blooming across her face as she straightened that ridiculous Homecoming Queen sash over her shoulder. Mason stood next to her, running a soothing hand up and down her back.

  “I hope you see the truth, now, Mason. She was born a trash-whore, and she’ll always be a trash-whore.”

  “I know that, Char. She obviously has a drinking problem, too.”

  Mason pulled her into his chest, smoothing a hand over her mussed hair. Charlotte nuzzled into his chest before her eyes locked onto the phone of whoever was filming. Her brown irises lit with an unholy fire as she stared right into the camera’s lens.

  “I love you, Mason.”

  There was only a slight pause, so miniscule that if I hadn’t been listening for it, I would’ve missed it.

  “I love you, too.”

  The video ended, then restarted. I tapped the pause icon so I could read some of the comments.

  Jays0nT: That trailer park slut sure throws a mean punch.

  K8tyKat: Stupid whore better keep her trash hands off my man or I’ll show her how to throw down.

  RandyW69: @ChazM18 if you like it rough, come see me baby. I’ll fuck you like you’re back in that singlewide.

  XOXOAmeliaXOXO: @RandyW69 she’s probably not worth what she charges #prostitute #whore

  My stomach churned as I shut down the app and tossed my phone to mattress beside me. I’d gotten drunk, made a huge mistake—no matter how much that bitch Charlotte deserved it—and now I was hungover and feeling sick.

  I was definitely not up to dealing with keyboard warriors and cyber-bullies. Scrubbing a hand across my face, I glanced over at my night stand and saw a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. Tucked underneath the edge of the bottle was a note, and I picked it up and read it.

  Thought you might need this. Come find me when you’re up. We need to talk. —Seth

  “Thank you, Seth,” I mumbled as I grabbed the aspirin bottle and twisted off the lid.

  Popping two pills in my mouth, I drained the glass of water in one long gulp. I stretched back out on the mattress, but no matter how hard I tried to relax, sleep evaded me. Sighing loudly, I pulled myself from the bed and headed straight for the shower.

  It was only after the hot water cleared my head that I realized there were no messages or calls on my phone from Mason. I vaguely remembered shooting off a few apology texts to him as Josh drove me home from the dance, but they’d gone unanswered.

  He was still angry with me.

  After drying off, throwing my hair up into a messy, wet bun, and pulling on some sweatpants and a tank top, I headed to Seth’s room. It was empty, so I went downstairs and found him in the television room. He was slumped on the couch, fiddling with his phone, and I plopped down next to him with a sigh.

  “Rough night?” he said, earning a dirty look from me.

  “How bad is it?” I asked, flinc
hing at the dread in my voice.

  “You’ve seen the post?”

  I waved it off, saying, “I don’t care what people say about me online. They can go fuck themselves. Have you heard from Mason?”

  Seth shook his head. “I texted his actual number and the burner phone number, but got no response from either.”

  “Stella?” My voice cracked on the name as fear spiraled through my gut.

  “No,” he said, his own voice wobbly. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with her, either. I talked to Cooper and Theo, and neither one of them have heard anything.”

  “What about Amelia?” I asked.

  “What about her?” he barked, his face screwing up with repugnance.

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes and hold onto the threads of my patience. “She’s supposedly your girlfriend, right? Text her and see if she says anything about Mason and Stella.”

  He was already shaking his head before I finished. “That would send up too many red flags. I never text her.”

  “Never?” I asked, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, like engaged to her, or something?”

  He shot me a narrow-eyed gaze meant to fry me on the spot, and I huffed out a miserable laugh. I had no idea how I got to this place, tangled in this web of misery and deceit. I just knew that whatever I had to do, it was worth it. Mason was worth it.

  I just hoped he still felt the same way about me.

  “I haven’t spoken to Amelia privately in months,” Seth said. “She’d know something was up if I texted her.”

  “I think she’d be thrilled,” I shot back. “Just text her and ask if she or Charlotte has heard from Mason. It’s not a big deal.”

  He shook his head with a frown, but tapped at the screen of his phone before setting it on the couch between us. “Done. Now, let’s talk about that little show you put on last night.”

  “Ugh. I don’t want to,” I whined, leaning back and closing my eyes.

  “Why’d you do it, Chaz?” he asked. “You had to know how high the stakes were with the Bellamys being there.”

  “I know. And I do regret it. But I drank a few too many glasses of the spiked punch, and when she kissed him, she looked at me, Seth. Me. That whole show was for my benefit, and something in me just…snapped. It’s like I had an out-of-body experience, or something.”

  I knew I was making excuses. I was too smart to make stupid decisions like that, no matter how satisfying it was to feel my fist crunch against that raging bitch’s face.

  “You know you’re most likely going to be suspended again, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s the least of my worries. Stella and Mason have gone MIA, I’m fodder for the school’s gossip rounds—again—and Headmaster Swain could use this incident against me in worse ways than a little suspension. He could keep me from being accepted into a good college.”

  “Only if he knows where you apply and writes a letter to the admissions office. Just fill out your applications on your own and don’t ask for help from your counselor. That’ll keep Swain out of the loop.”

  I wasn’t so sure Seth was right, but I nodded anyway. Something told me Swain wouldn’t hesitate to write every top school in the country to warn them away from me on the off chance that I’d applied there. The man was under the thumbs of Phin and Gwyneth Bellamy, and I had no doubt they’d stoop to those levels.

  Seth’s phone vibrated, and he plucked it from the couch. Frowning, he read Amelia’s response aloud.

  “Hey, lover. Mason and his family are staying at their lake house with the Rutherfords all weekend. No phones. House rules.”

  His eyes scanned the screen, letting me know there was more, but he’d decided to read it silently. By the disgusted look on his face, I assumed it was some sort of indecent proposition.

  “Well, I guess that explains why we’re being ghosted,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he replied distractedly.

  “What is it?” I asked, studying his face.

  “What?”

  “You look like you’re trying to stare a hole into your phone. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “I’m just worried about Stella. And if they are going to be gone and without phones all weekend, that means I have to wait until Monday to confirm she’s okay.”

  “I’m really sorry, Seth,” I muttered. “I know I screwed everything up. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  I just hoped that was a promise I’d be able to keep.

  18

  “Suspended again, baby?”

  The disappointment in Mom’s eyes was almost more than I could bear. And unlike last time, I couldn’t claim innocence or defend myself. I’d been suspended for a week for fighting, and it was my own damned fault.

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I muttered while looking at my bowl of cereal.

  It was Monday morning, and Seth had already left for school. When Mom came in and found me sitting at the breakfast bar, she’d stuck her phone in my face, showing me an email she’d received from Headmaster Swain—a copy of the one he’d sent me, suspending me for the entire week.

  “What happened?” she asked, taking the stool next to me.

  I told her the whole sordid story, not leaving out a single detail—the spiked punch, Charlotte and Mason being crowned Homecoming King and Queen. The look I got from Charlotte as she molested Mason’s mouth. How I snapped and attacked her. The video. And finally, the total radio silence from both Mason and Stella all weekend.

  “So, that’s why my son darted out of here so quickly.”

  Mom and I both turned to see Atticus standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and obviously listening to our conversation.

  “Morning, darlin’,” he said, sauntering forward to place a warm kiss on Mom’s forehead. “Don’t be too hard on her. Dealing with these people is…difficult.”

  He jerked his chin in my direction as he said it, and my heart warmed with his support. Mom stared at him for a few beats before turning to look me in the eye.

  “Did you mark her face?”

  I nodded. “I got in a couple of punches that were sure to leave some decent bruises.”

  “Good.”

  My eyes widened at her response, and she gave me a firm nod.

  “Mom,” I laughed. “When did you get so hardcore?”

  “When these rich assholes decided to mess with my baby,” she replied, and my mouth fell open.

  “Language,” I scolded, but couldn’t contain my laughter.

  Mom smiled, and I realized her potty-mouth was for my benefit. She wanted to lighten my mood and knew saying something like that would work.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, reaching over to give her a hug.

  “Anytime,” she said, hugging me back.

  She and Atticus left soon after, and I was alone, once again. My good mood was short-lived as the silence of the big house deafened me. After washing my bowl and spoon, I wandered back up to my room and turned on some music.

  I was reading one of my textbooks in an attempt to not fall behind when my phone chimed an incoming text. I swiped the screen when I saw it was from Josh.

  Queen.

  What’s happening? I sent back.

  His next message was a picture, one he’d obviously taken on the sly. It was of Charlotte, sitting in a desk in one of the classrooms. Her face was turned in Josh’s direction, though she wasn’t looking at him.

  Despite what looked like a pound of makeup, I could clearly see a massive bruise on her left cheekbone, as well as a dark purple ring around the eye above it.

  Oh shit, I tapped out before hitting the send button.

  She’s on the warpath, telling anyone who’ll listen that you’re dangerous and need to be expelled.

  That didn’t surprise me. Not in the least.

  Is anyone actually listening? I replied.

  Hard to tell. Most people are nodding while trying not to stare at her tore-up face. LOL.

  We chatted fo
r a couple of more minutes, until his professor showed up. He promised to bring me any work I might’ve missed after school, so at least I had that to look forward to.

  My phone chimed again, and this time the text was from Seth.

  Finally talked to Stella. She’s fine, but her parents are putting more pressure on Mason by threatening to send her to Europe for Christmas so she can meet her future husband.

  Shit. I knew this would happen.

  Please tell her how sorry I am.

  She doesn’t blame you, he sent back. She saw what C did and said she’d have done the same thing to Amelia in a heartbeat.

  That made me feel a little better, but Seth didn’t mention Mason. And I didn’t ask. I knew my stepbrother would tell me if Mason had asked about me or wanted to send a message. And he would…eventually. I just had to be patient.

  I spent the rest of the day in my room. Our butler Gerald had been kind enough to bring me a sandwich for lunch, so there was no reason for me to leave my cozy bed. It wasn’t until the doorbell rang that I realized how late it had gotten.

  I took the steps two at a time, beating Gerald to the front door. Josh stepped in and gave me a big hug, and I hadn’t realized how bad I needed it until that moment. I pulled him upstairs and into my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

  “Tell me everything,” I said, plopping back down into my bed.

  His eyes dodged mine, looking everywhere but at me as he pulled some papers from his backpack and laid them on my desk.

  “Here are the assignments you missed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the teachers were adding to their plans to make sure you miss as much as possible.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said, moving my head to the right to try to catch his eye. “What’s going on?”

  “What?” he asked, finally meeting my gaze. His expression was overly innocent.

  “Joshua Fairbanks, tell me,” I ordered, and he sighed before slumping down next to me.

  “I don’t want to,” he sighed, “but better me than social media.”