Change My Game: An Emotional Second Chance Romance (North Haven University Book 2)

by Kelsey Clayton

  As much as Carter makes some shitty choices sometimes, they always seem to be for good reason. I rest my head on his shoulder and stare up at the night sky, wondering if Jace can see the stars too.

  "What do we do now?" I question defeatedly.

  Carter sighs and leans his head on mine. "Now we get ready. Jace is going to need us, because this is going to be a fight for his life."

  I wake in the morning to the sound of a guard at my cell door calling my name. A shooting pain radiates from my chest all the way to my spine as I pick myself up off the hard floor. Last night, I got back from the infirmary well past the time everyone was sleeping, and I was in too much pain to get up onto the top bunk myself. The floor seemed like the only option at the time, but now I'm seriously reconsidering it.

  The guard leads me through the prison, and all the inmates are chanting things about special treatment. On the way to where we're going, I lock eyes with Blade for a second and immediately look away. His motive is clear. He wanted to get back at the people who played a hand in locking him up, and judging by my injuries, he more than succeeded. At least as far as I'm concerned.

  I'm brought into the bathroom and given a razor, shaving cream, and a bar of soap, but as I look around, I notice I'm the only one in here. I give the guard a curious look, and thankfully, he caves.

  "Your extradition hearing is this morning, and the warden doesn't want to risk further injury before you're put in front of a judge."

  Ah. "Thanks."

  As I step further into the bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Both my eyes are black and blue. My bottom lip is cut and swollen. But nothing compares to the pain in my ribs. The nurse in the infirmary told me the extent of my injuries, but I think I was too exhausted to really pay attention. Looking at it now though, I can see why I'm in so much pain. My entire left side is purple, and if I remember correctly, two of my ribs are cracked.

  I thought the shower water would feel good, but the whole time I'm trying to clean myself, all I can think about is how much pain I'm in. Every movement causes something else to hurt, and it's only a matter of time before I give up on showering all together. It's good enough. Especially since I'll probably just end up back in here anyway.

  Getting out of the shower, I dry myself off as well as I can and get dressed into a new, but still ugly, orange jumpsuit. I comb my hair out of my face and completely forego shaving. It's only a little stubble, and I'm afraid of reopening one of the multiple cuts from yesterday with the cheap, single-blade razor.

  Once I deem myself appropriate, I go back to the guard, and we head out.

  THE VAN PULLS INTO a special entrance behind the courthouse, and an officer comes to get me out. He makes sure my handcuffs are secure, and the belt around my waist and ankles is tight enough. Then he leads me into an elevator that takes us to the main floor.

  As soon as I step into the courtroom, my gaze meets Paige's, and she gasps. Carter wraps an arm around her in an attempt to calm her down, but it only makes me want to punch him even more. Then again, it's probably a good thing I'm shackled up. The two of us can each hold our own in a fight with each other on a normal day, but I'm not exactly in the best shape right now.

  I walk over to Finn, who pulls out the seat next to him for me. "Thanks."

  "You look like shit, boy," he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

  "That's really fitting, because I feel like shit, too."

  He chuckles, but before he can say anything else, the bailiff steps in.

  "All rise for the Honorable Judge Higgins.”

  We all stand up, and the judge comes in and takes a seat. "You may be seated."

  As I sit down, I feel a hand come up and tap me on the shoulder. I glance behind me and see my dad and Mr. Trayland sitting there, looking hopeful. With a forced smile, I focus my attention back to the front of the room.

  "I understand we're here to determine whether or not Mr. London will be extradited to the state of Florida for the..." He pauses. "Am I reading this right? For the charge of Second Degree Murder?"

  "Yes, your honor," Finn responds.

  The judge seems surprised that we're even attempting this, which only lessens my hope even more. "Very well. Counselor Bradford, the floor is yours."

  Nodding, Finn starts his argument. "Your honor, I'd like to start by pointing out that my client had no prior criminal history. He has been a model citizen up until this event took place and has had no involvement with the law since. He goes to college at North Haven University and maintains a 3.6 GPA. I took some time to look over the evidence provided by the Tallahassee Police Department, and while there is a lot of data, it is all circumstantial."

  The lawyer arguing for my extradition stands. "Your honor, if I may, the defense has failed to point out that even though Mr. London had no prior history before the incident involving the victim, he then proceeded to get expelled from Florida State University."

  "Is this true?" The judge asks Finn.

  "Yes, your honor, however, I feel I need to stress the fact that anything after the incident is a direct result from the incident itself. My client is the son of a prestigious businessman. He went to a preparatory school, Haven Grace Prep, and played on the football team all throughout. My client was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and everything that has happened after, from the police interview to getting removed from the university, is an example of how traumatized he was by what happened."

  "Mr. Bradford can talk all day about how privileged Mr. London's childhood was, but your honor, at the end of the day that does not change the fact that he pushed a girl off the roof of a building," the other attorney argues.

  Finn shakes his head. "Isn't this country all about being innocent until proven guilty? No matter what evidence is put in front of me, I have known my client since he was a child, and I firmly believe he is innocent in this matter. Even Mr. Jamie Trayland himself, who you know Judge, is a very respectable district attorney in the state of California, is here to attest to Jace's character."

  Mr. Trayland stands up and nods a hello to the judge. Thankfully, Judge Higgins appears happy to see him, even if a little confused.

  "You're usually on the opposite side of this argument, Mr. Trayland," he says.

  Carter's dad smiles. "I usually am, but in this matter, I couldn't be. Along with Finn, I have known Jace since he was a small boy. He might not be my blood, but he is absolutely part of my family, and I feel that extraditing him when he has no support system in Florida and is still going through therapy here in California, is a grave mistake that risks his mental health."

  The judge looks over at me. "Is this true, Mr. London? Are you seeing a therapist?"

  I stand. "Yes, your honor. I see Dr. Litman every week."

  "And how is that going for you? Are you finding that helpful?"

  "Well, she's had her fair share of struggles getting me to open up, but I feel we're getting somewhere, yes."

  Finn pulls a paper out of his folder and hands it to the bailiff to give to the judge. "This is a letter from Dr. Cassidy Litman, stressing how important it is that Jace be able to continue his therapy." He walks back over and stands beside me. "I can assure you, your honor, my client is not a flight risk, nor is he a danger to anyone."

  The judge looks over the letter and then places it aside. "Mr. London, it is not every day that someone comes into my courtroom to try to fight extradition for a murder charge. I'm sure you can understand that. But it's also not every day that a man of your standing is being charged with something that severe either."

  "I understand." He's going to deny it. I can already see it coming.

  "I could not in good conscience keep you in California and let you roam free. Therefore, my options are slim. If I were to grant bail, you would need to agree to home confinement. You would have to wear an ankle monitor at all times and would only be allowed out of the house for therapy and meetings with Mr. Bradford. Is that something you'd be willing to cooperat
e with?"

  My heart is pounding inside my chest just at the possibility of getting to go home today. "Absolutely, sir."

  "Your honor," the prosecution chimes in. "I'm going to need to stress that you reconsider."

  "I understand your side, counselor, but given Mr. London's injuries, I also have to look out for the wellbeing of the defendant." He grabs his mallet. "I am granting bail in the amount of two million dollars, under the circumstances of home confinement and that you report to the state of Florida for your trial, whenever that date is set." Slamming it down, relief floods through me as I realize I get to go home. "Case dismissed."

  The other attorney shakes his head and storms out of the room, while Finn hugs me and whispers encouragement in my ear. One of the officers from the jail comes over to escort me out of the room before I can talk to anyone else, but I manage to catch sight of Paige on my way out. She looks relieved, but I can't let my guard down. This is only the beginning.

  Finn manages to get to me in a back room before they transport me from the courthouse back to the jail. I wish it was Paige instead of him, but she doesn't have the attorney privilege that Finn does. He has his phone to his ear but hangs up as soon as he gets close.

  "Okay, Jace," he says. "This is exactly what we wanted. Your dad is heading to the bank now to get the money. Just sit tight and we'll get you out within the next few hours."

  "What happens from here?" I ask.

  He places a hand on my shoulder. "Let's just get you out of that jail first, and then we'll discuss our next steps."

  That doesn't sound very promising.

  THE TWO HOURS THAT it takes for my dad to get the bail money to the courthouse is probably the slowest two hours of my entire life. I'm constantly watching the clock, the seconds passing so slowly I can see the hesitation in the mechanics. Finally, a guard comes over to my cell.

  "London." He bangs against the bars. "Let's go. You made bail."

  I jump up quickly, but regret it the second I remember my injuries. Pain so strong I almost collapse radiates through my torso. But I swallow down my complaints and do as I'm told so I can get the hell out of here.

  He leads me into a room I've never been in and hands me two bags. One has all of my belongings in it, like my phone and wallet. The other is the suit I was wearing when they brought me here. It's wrinkled to shit after being wadded in a bag. Thankfully, no one expects me to look like a rock star coming out of prison.

  I change my clothes as fast as I can and follow him to the exit. There are three different doors they need to unlock and re-lock as we get to the outside, but finally, that last door opens. The guard nods at me and tells me to enjoy my freedom while I can.

  Walking to the gate, I can see both Paige and Carter standing there waiting for me. As I get close, a buzzer sounds, and I'm able to get out. It only takes a second before my girl is in my arms. I wince in pain but when she goes to pull away, I hold her closer.

  "Glad you're out, man," Carter tells me.

  I grunt. "Why? Your guilt eating you alive?"

  He rolls his eyes but says nothing else as we climb into Paige's SUV. She hands Carter the keys and gets into the back with me. I wrap my arm around her and watch as Carter drives away and the jail vanishes in the distance.

  Good riddance.

  PULLING UP TO MY house, there are already a few officers waiting for me. I walk inside and toss my jacket onto the bannister as Finn approaches. He wraps his arms around me and pats me on the back.

  "Careful," I groan.

  He removes his hands immediately. "Sorry, sorry. Just glad you're home."

  "Thanks. So am I."

  One of the officers comes into the foyer with an ankle monitor and starts attaching it to my leg as another starts explaining the details. "Okay, Mr. London. The device being placed around your ankle is designed to know where you are at all times. It needs to stay within 150 feet of the receiver at all times. We placed this in a pretty centralized part of the house, so you should be fine in here, but you won't be able to get very far outside without it going off."

  He hits a button, and the device starts blinking red and beeping. "If you go out of range of the receiver, it will notify our department as well as the court. Fail to comply with the terms of home confinement, and you will be brought back into custody. Do you understand?"

  I nod. "But what about my appointments?"

  "Your lawyer will need to file paperwork with the court. Time frames and locations are permitted on a case by case basis." He hands me a clipboard with a form attached. "Please sign here stating that I explained the device and how it works to you, as well as the terms of your confinement."

  I sign my name on the dotted line, and the officers shake my dad's hand before leaving. As soon as they're gone, everyone comes over to hug me and tell me how glad they are that I made bail, but don't they all realize that this isn't over? That I'm more than likely going to prison for the rest of my life?

  All the happiness and commotion only seems to irritate me, and by the time my mom mentions my aunt coming over, I'm completely on edge.

  "Stop," I snap. "Just stop."

  "Jace," Paige breathes, putting her hand on my arm to try to calm me down.

  "No. Everyone needs to just stop." I look around at everyone who seems to be in such a jolly fucking mood while my life is falling apart. "This isn't a win. This isn't even the start of a win. All it means is that I'm grounded to my fucking bedroom until the time comes where they make me go to prison."

  "You can't think like that, son," Finn tells me. "You need to stay positive."

  A huff of sarcastic laughter bubbles out. "Positive. Right, okay. I'm positive that I'm going to be found guilty because Davianna's father will make sure of that, no matter what. I'm positive that I will be spending the rest of my life in a five-by-five cell with a guy named Bubba who wants to trade protection for anal sex. And I'm positive that you're all celebrating for nothing because I...am...fucked." The corner of my mouth raises in a pissed-off smirk. "How's that for being positive?"

  "Jace Michael," my dad chastises.

  "What?" I growl. "It's not like I'm wrong. You guys can do what you want, but I won't sit here and pretend to be happy about my life going to shit. You can't make me."

  My dad pinches the bridge of his nose as I head up the stairs to my bedroom. Just as I almost reach the top, however, I heard Carter.

  "Let me talk to him," he says and goes to follow me.

  I stop, turning to face him. "You stay the fuck away from me."

  "Babe," Paige gets my attention softly. "He's only trying to help."

  "Help," I sneer and focus my attention fully on Carter. "That's funny. He had every chance to help for who knows how long, and he did nothing. Now he wants to help?"

  I look him up and down, sizing him up like the selfish prick he is.

  "I don't want it."

  Two weeks go by, and with each day that passes, Jace loses a little more hope that he's going to win this. I think he's going stir crazy, being stuck in his house all the time, but I do my best to spend as much time with him as I can.

  It's been tough trying to juggle being with both Jace and my dad, especially since I can't just have them both in the same room. Maybe it would be easier if Carter and I could both fill Jace's time to keep his spirits up, but that's not an option. Since the day Jace got home from jail, he made one thing very clear.

  Carter Trayland is not a topic that is up for discussion.

  I understand the betrayal, but I fully believe Carter had the best intentions. If I could, I would explain that to Jace. However, every time I try, he flatly refuses to hear it. And I don't think he's in the right place to spend more time than he has to alone. So, I keep my mouth shut.

  "Want to watch a movie?" I suggest, cuddling up next to him while he scrolls on his phone.

  "Not really."

  "We could find a series to binge."

  He rolls his eyes. "We already watched Sons of Anarchy, Vampir
e Diaries, and whatever that other chick show you wanted to watch was."

  I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm just trying to help."

  "You know what would help?" He tosses his phone in my lap with a picture someone posted from a party at Zayn's. "If you had a life that doesn't consist of nagging me every goddamn day."

  I've been trying to keep my cool with him, but it's getting hard. It's like every time I leave, he's pulled himself further away from me. I just don't know how to fix it.

  "What? You think I'd rather be at a party than spend time with you?"

  He shrugs. "If you don't, you should."

  Running my fingers through my hair, I remind myself that he's been through a lot. "Well, I don't and you can’t change that. We're a team, Jace."

  "A team?" He laughs dryly. "That's funny. Are you going to prison?"

  "No, and neither are you."

  "You don't know that!" His voice echoes through the room and makes me flinch. "Face it, Paige. More than likely, I'm going to be spending the rest of my life behind bars. The wedding. The kids. The white picket fence. That's not a possibility with me! The most I can promise you is Tastykakes from the visitors’ room vending machine."

  Tears spring to my eyes, but as I go to leave, I stop. "You know what? No," I snap back. "You want to push me away? You want to send me running so you can drown yourself in self-pity? Well, too bad. I won't let you."

  Walking over I take his face in my hands.

  "Do you hear me? I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere."

  I can see the anger brewing in his eyes, and it only takes a second before he reacts. It's the same way he's been coping since the moment it stopped hurting to move. He pulls me in and presses our lips together in a bruising kiss. His fingers lace into the back of my hair, and he grips as he pulls back. My neck is fully exposed as he licks and kisses across the sensitive skin.

  Straddling his lap, he grinds up into me—already fully hard and ready to fuck me like he wants to. Like he needs to. It's the only way he's been able to get his anger out, and I'm more than willing to let him use me for it.