Cruel Prince: A High School Bully Romance

by Ashley Jade

  Something in my chest dislodges and I’m about to promise him I’ll visit more…until his next statement.

  “Savannah’s been visiting me a lot lately, though…keeping my spirits up.”

  I feel like I’ve been dunked in a vat of ice water. “I thought she wanted a divorce?”

  A genuine smile lights up his face. “No, we’ve worked things out.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sitting up in my seat, I move closer to the glass. “Dad, she’s the reason you’re in here.”

  Sadness lines his face. “No, tator tot. I have no one to blame but myself for this mess.”

  I’m all for people taking responsibility for their actions, but Savannah definitely played a part in all this.

  “I was there, remember? She was always complaining about you not making enough money, meanwhile she was spending almost every dime you earned while she sat on her ass all day. She put too much pressure on you…made you feel like you weren’t good enough.” I place my hand on the glass, hoping to get through to him. “She was wrong, Dad. You are good enough and you don’t need her.”

  We don’t need her.

  “Savannah’s a good woman,” he begins. “She—”

  “Mom was a million times better,” I say, because someone has to make him see the light. “Mom never would have pushed you for any of the material crap Savannah did. She never would have made you feel worthless. Mom loved you. Savannah uses you. Big difference.”

  Briefly, I see pain flash in his eyes before he bows his head. “Last I checked, your mother wasn’t coming back from the grave we buried her in ten years ago, Dylan.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “I know you and Savannah have your differences, but you’re gonna have to learn to get along.”

  Never. I will never get along with that manipulating witch. She can kiss my skinny ass. “No—”

  “She’s pregnant.” His eyes gleam. “You’re finally gonna be a big sister, tator tot. It’s why I wanted you to visit me…so I could tell you in person.”

  I clutch my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t…

  “What?” The room is spinning. “How is that even possible? It’s almost December. You’ve been in here since August.”

  “She’s four months along,” he says slowly, like I’m dense.

  That may be true, but my spidey-senses are telling me something is very fishy about all this. They’ve been married for years, but Savannah just so happens to get pregnant…while her husband is in prison.

  Sounds more like she got knocked up by the first guy she could find after my dad was arrested, and that guy didn’t want to stick around.

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to believe her.” I hold his stare. “Do us both a favor and have a paternity test done before you take responsibility for this baby.”

  Outrage crosses over his face. “She’s my wife.”

  Frustration bubbles inside me. “And I’m your daughter.” I glare at him. “Something you always seem to forget.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve done nothing but provide for you all these years.”

  Shelling out money for your kid doesn’t make you a parent…it just makes you a donor.

  A real parent builds a relationship with their child.

  A real parent takes the time to nurture and learn who their child is as a person.

  A real parent doesn’t let their child feel unloved and unwanted for a single day, let alone years.

  “Unlike your wife, I never wanted your money. All I ever wanted was you.” I shrug helplessly. “But you weren’t there.”

  He blinks. “I’m having trouble understanding exactly what it is you’re implying.”

  As usual, he doesn’t get it. He’s too wrapped up in Savannah.

  “I’m saying I had one parent…and she’s gone.”

  “That’s not true,” he protests. “I’ve been here your whole life.”

  “Yeah, like a ghost. We don’t talk. You don’t know my hopes, my dreams, my fears. Hell, you don’t even know my favorite color.”

  “Yes, I do. It’s pink.”

  “It’s blue,” I scream. “Pink was mom’s favorite color.”

  He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Dylan.”

  Nothing.

  I stand. “Not a damn thing. Just like the last ten years.”

  I shouldn’t have to work so hard to get him to love me.

  I shouldn’t have to fight so hard to make him understand how much he’s hurting me.

  “Sit down.”

  I jab the glass with my finger. “No. I am done. You want to keep burying your head in the sand while Savannah walks all over you? Be my guest. But I’m not sticking around for it.” I snatch my purse off the counter. “Congrats on your new baby. I hope you don’t ignore this one and fuck the whole parenting thing up like you did with me.”

  With that, I turn and walk out.

  Fuck his wife.

  Fuck his new baby.

  Fuck him.

  Chapter 38

  Dylan

  My phone rings for the third time in four hours.

  Sawyer’s name flashes across the screen and I press the ignore button again.

  As soon as I walked through the front door, I told my aunt I didn’t feel good and had no intention of talking about the visit with my father. Ever.

  I’ve been holed up in my bedroom ever since. Barely holding it together.

  My phone vibrates with an incoming text:

  Sawyer: You don’t have to talk. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me.

  Guilt prickles my chest. It’s not Sawyer’s fault he’s an asshole.

  Putting the phone to my ear, I call her back.

  She answers on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I whisper. “I’m not ignoring you. I’m just…I’m in a really bad head space right now.”

  One small nudge off the tightrope and I’ll go tumbling.

  “I’m sorry.” I can hear the hesitation in her voice before she says, “I was thinking about making a midnight fast food run if you want to come with.”

  I look at the clock on my nightstand. It’s only ten forty-five. “It’s not midnight yet.”

  She laughs. “I know, but I’ve been trying a new diet this week, and I’m seriously going to rip my hair out if I don’t get a cheeseburger in my system soon.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I guess for the sake of your gorgeous hair, I have to come, don’t I?”

  “Yes. Trust me, I don’t have the bone structure to pull off bald.” Her voice drops a little. “We don’t have to talk about today if you don’t want to. We can just drive around, gorge ourselves on greasy burgers, and listen to your favorite rock music.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” I pry myself off the bed. “Mind if I ask Oak to tag along? He texted me on my way home from the prison and told me he broke up with Hayley for good. He could probably use a pick me up, too.”

  “Wow…that’s…I mean, a blind person could see that coming from a mile away, but yeah. Tell him to come hang. I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Awesome. See you then,” I say before ending the call and texting Oakley.

  After I put on a pair of Chucks and check my phone, I wander across the hall to Oakley’s room.

  I knock four times but he doesn’t answer, so I head for the kitchen. Lord knows it’s his second favorite room in the house. The first being the basement.

  There’s no sign of him.

  I’m about to ask my aunt and uncle if they’ve seen him, but I remember my aunt mentioned something about going to some kind of charity auction tonight.

  Lifting my phone to my ear, I call his cell. I’m lazy and don’t want to walk all the way downstairs and back up if he’s not there.

  It rings a few times before going to voicemail.

  Hmm.

  A weird sensation tugs in my gut as I turn the doorknob to the basement. I hope he didn’t have a seizure. />
  I tread down the stairs, but stagger to a stop when I hear voices.

  “I miss you,” Oakley says, his speech slurred.

  I roll my eyes. Here we go again. Another round on the Hayley train.

  I’m about to walk back upstairs, but the next voice I hear stops me in my tracks.

  “I told you, it’s over. We can’t keep doing this.”

  I shake my head, convinced I’m hearing things.

  “It’s killing me,” Oakley says, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t take it.”

  They’re the very same words he said the night I found him drunk upstairs at Christian’s.

  Oh, my God. Oakley wasn’t kissing me…he thought I was her.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” my aunt says. “But I love my husband.”

  Bile works up my throat. No. There’s no way this is happening.

  “You and I both know that’s not true,” Oakley grits out. “You’re just scared of losing your ATM machine.”

  “How dare you. You know I’m not like that.”

  “Then prove it,” Oakley says. “Run away with me. Just like we talked about.”

  I have to cover my mouth so I don’t gasp.

  “You’re out of your mind.”

  “No,” he objects. “For the first time, I’m finally thinking clearly.”

  There’s nothing but the sound of heavy panting and then, “We have to be quick. Wayne will be home any minute.”

  “Good. I want him to see how good I fuck his wife while he’s gone.” My aunt moans as the sounds of skin slapping together assault my ears. “Show him how much she loves taking his son’s dick.”

  The room spins and I grab the banister so I don’t fall.

  This has to be a mistake. I know my aunt. She would never do something like this. She’s a good person. She would never cheat on her husband or use her teenage stepson to get her rocks off.

  No. I don’t believe it. I refuse to. Shaking my head, I tiptoe down the stairs.

  This is a sick joke.

  A stupid, sick…

  My stomach lurches as Oakley furiously drives himself into my aunt who’s bent over the couch moaning his name.

  They’re so into what they’re doing they don’t even see me.

  My mind wants to reject the entire scene as I dart up the stairs and close the door behind me. But I can’t. It’s too real. Too raw. Too…

  “Hey, Dylan,” Wayne greets me as he walks through the front door. “Is your aunt upstairs?”

  “My aunt?” I squeak.

  “Yeah, I tried calling her on my way home from the auction to see if she needed anything, but she didn’t answer.”

  “Oh?” It’s like my brain can’t form a cohesive thought to save my life.

  “Yeah, last time we spoke, she said she still wasn’t feeling good.” He smiles. “Between me and you, I think the morning sickness is getting to her.”

  My heart stops. “Morning sickness?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean we haven’t confirmed it officially yet, but she’s been sick for almost a week now.”

  Oh…she is sick all right.

  And so am I. Nausea hits me with a force so strong, my breath catches. She’s destroying her entire family…just like my dad.

  “Whoa, kiddo. Are you okay?”

  No. No, I’m not.

  I stagger to the front door like a drunk person. “I, uh. I need some air.”

  The second my feet hit the welcome mat, big, ugly tears roll down my cheeks, mirroring the rainstorm outside.

  She’s the one I go to for advice. The only adult I had left to look up to.

  The last good piece of my mom.

  I’m all alone now. I no longer have a family. I don’t have…

  Something inside me snaps and I take off running like a bat out of hell…speeding toward the only person in the world who will understand.

  The only person who can make it better.

  The only one who can put me back together again.

  Chapter 39

  Jace

  I pause when I pass Cole on the staircase. His jacket’s on and his car keys are in his hand.

  “Where are you going?”

  He shrugs. “It’s Saturday night.”

  Over my dead body is he getting drunk at Christian’s tonight. Hell, he shouldn’t even be driving for another few hours. Especially in this crazy ass weather. We rarely get storms here, and this is the second one in a month.

  “You were discharged three hours ago. Stay your ass home.”

  He levels me with a look. “Dad doesn’t have a problem with it.”

  No surprise there. The second he heard Cole’s injuries weren’t dire, he went back to the office and he’s been there ever since.

  I’m also willing to bet Cole didn’t even ask him, he’s just trying to get under my skin.

  “Fine. Next time you need something, make sure to ask your sperm donor.”

  I brush past him, but he stops me. “I’ll stay home.”

  I give him a curt nod. “Good choice.”

  He squeezes the back of his neck. “Look, I know we didn’t talk about it at the hospital, but what you did…”

  “I don’t need a thank you.”

  He’s my little brother. Going after the person who hurt him—especially that motherfucker—wasn’t even a thought, it was instinct.

  If the Vikings didn’t pull me off him when they did, I’d still be sitting in a jail cell…facing twenty years to life.

  Cole’s expression is uneasy as he digs his hands in his pockets. “I guess what I’m trying to say is…I would have done the same for you.”

  I raise a brow. “Really?”

  My brother has no qualms about being selfish. Just because I have his back doesn’t mean I expect him to have mine.

  I fight my own battles.

  “I don’t know, maybe.” Grinning, he shrugs. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

  My lips twitch. “Asshole.”

  “Never claimed I wasn’t.” His expression turns serious. “I know we don’t say it…but…” His voice trails off.

  This conversation is officially awkward as fuck, but I catch his drift. “Yeah. Ditto.”

  If Cole or Bianca think I won’t go to the ends of the earth and back protecting them, they’re dead wrong.

  He blows out a breath. “Now that we got that out of the way, wanna play some Black Ops?”

  “Wow, you really do love me if you’re willing to play—”

  A loud thwack against the house cuts me off mid-sentence.

  “What was that?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Beats me. Probably the storm.”

  “Yeah, you’re proba—”

  Another thump, much louder than before, has us both running up the stairs.

  “Bianca?” I shout.

  She comes out of her room as we reach the hallway. “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You didn’t hear that?” Cole asks.

  She makes a face. “Yeah, but I figured your dumbass dropped something.” She motions to her door. “Can I go no—”

  The sound of glass shattering has the three of us sprinting down the hall.

  Thinking quick, I grab Bianca’s arm and yank her back. “Stay here.”

  “Seriously?”

  Swear this girl’s sole ambition in life is to give me a heart attack before I’m twenty.

  The look I give her must make it clear not to press me, because she relents.

  “It’s your window, Jace,” Cole shouts.

  I mutter a curse when I enter my room, taking in the glass on the floor, the big-ass rock, and the busted window. Shit is right.

  Cole rubs his chin. “Think it was Tommy?”

  “Doubtful.”

  Not only is the fucker without wheels, he’s also without legs.

  Well, one of them at least.


  Cole catches the next rock that sails through my now broken window. “Well, whoever it is, he’s still out there.” He flaps his hand around. “And he has a killer arm.”

  I seize his shirt sleeve when he takes a step forward. “No.”

  Last thing he needs is to get pummeled in the head with a rock and develop another concussion.

  I march across the room to my window, narrowly missing the next rock. “Hey, assho—”

  I freeze when I see Dylan. Although I’m having a hard time believing it’s actually her because she’s…a wreck.

  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen her cry. Because she doesn’t.

  “Shit.”

  Without thinking, I charge out of my room.

  By the time I reach her, she’s doubled over on my front lawn in the pouring rain, clawing at the grass and dry heaving.

  Something in my chest dislodges. I want to find whoever’s responsible for this and beat them to a bloody pulp. No worse.

  Much. Worse.

  “What—”

  “The fuck?” Cole says behind me, taking the words from my mouth.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Bianca snaps before her eyes zero in on Dylan. “You couldn’t just knock on the door like a normal person, bitch?”

  I spin around to face them. “Go inside. Both of you.”

  “Now,” I yell when they don’t move.

  Bianca wants to protest, like she always does, but Cole takes hold of her forearm and leads her inside.

  I focus my attention back on Dylan.

  “Hey.” I approach her as one would a bomb. With caution. “What happened?”

  She doesn’t answer. She can’t.

  The girl is so beside herself, her small body is shaking with the force of her sobs.

  I’ve never seen someone so upset.

  Not since…

  Stuffing the ball of pain down, I place my hand on the small of her back. Her clothes are soaked.

  The temperature is barely over fifty degrees and it’s windy as fuck outside. At this rate, she’ll get pneumonia before she’s able to tell me what’s wrong.