Damaged Elite (The Darlington Elite Book 2)

by Waverly Alexander

  “Professor DellaVecchia.” Patrick’s tone is sour.

  “Oh, I’ve heard Everly talk about her. She’s a Lit professor, right?” He rolls his eyes. “Dude, what is your deal? Are you pleasant to anyone?”

  “She was always Everly and Darcey’s favorite.” He only continues talking when I pinch his arm. “She made me sit in the back of the class Freshman year by the trashcan because of my ‘attitude problem’.” He uses air quotes around ‘attitude problem’ to indicate he disagrees with the professor’s assessment of his demeanor.

  Professor Kate, as Everly always calls her, holds a paper close to Tommy’s face, pointing at something and then slapping it into his hand with purpose. He looks at the paper like he’s never seen it before, and knowing him, he probably hasn’t.

  Patrick sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, which leads into him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I told him he was a dumbass for getting those brainy literature kids to do his homework. Like she wasn’t going to notice.”

  Tommy’s talking, but I can’t hear what he’s saying because they’re just a touch too far away. But by the way he’s smiling, it looks like he’s laying on the charm pretty thick. Professor Kate waves him off, pointing a threatening finger at him and then turns on her heel to storm toward Patrick and me.

  “Fuck,” he curses under his breath because she’s already seen us.

  I immediately let go of the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to put some space between myself and Professor Kate’s least favorite student because if I make it through this semester, I want to take some of her classes. I’m an Elite, I’ve claimed them as my own—except in this case. Her eyes narrow as she moves closer to us, and I smack Patrick on the chest when he squares his shoulders like he’s actually thinking about trying to intimidate this tiny woman.

  “Mister Carter,” she says sternly as she passes by.

  “Professor DellaVecchia,” he mimics, and I smack him again as Tommy approaches us.

  Tommy and Patrick shake hands, then do that half-hug thing all the Elite boys—except Henry—deem necessary when they haven’t seen each other in more than five minutes. I don’t have time to comment, because then Tommy is tussling my hair like I’m a Shih Tzu or something as we begin walking toward the library.

  “Sorry, she cornered me when I was coming out of the ice house,” Tommy says, shaking his head. “I was snooping around Coach’s office and I didn’t notice her when I was sneaking out. She said something about how using my status on campus to coerce excelling students to do my homework is against college guidelines or some shit. She uses big words to confuse me.” He grins and holds his hands out to indicate it’s not so bad, then adds, “But it’s cool, cause she’s hot as shit.”

  “I thought all the professors knew you guys don’t do anything you don’t want to.” I lean my head forward to see around Patrick because an idea pops into my head. “You don’t think she’s giving you a hard time because of Coach Leary, do you? I don’t even know who’s in on it anymore.”

  Tommy’s face burns red when he shakes his head and laughs nervously. “Nah, none of that, she’s just mad at me because of something that happened the first week of classes.”

  I realize Patrick already knows this story because he barks out a laugh as he uses his arm to guide me to walk between the two of them as we approach the building. I don’t know if it’s just habit or if he’s unsure who might be waiting on the other side of the doors.

  “What did you do?” I whisper a little too loudly as we walk through the library doors and receive several glares from studying students.

  “Well, the Friday classes started, I got three urgent emails from her asking me to meet her in her office on Monday,” Tommy starts, then pauses to shove Patrick who is snickering. “And when I showed up, she shooed me into her office because she was talking to someone in the hallway.”

  “AND…” Patrick goads him.

  Tommy glowers at his teammate, and then sheepishly meets my eyes. “I thought it was an invitation to take off my shirt and wait on her desk.”

  Patrick’s hand clamps over my mouth when I shriek at Tommy’s admission, probably because he knows if I get kicked out of the library, he’s getting booted too. I pry his fingers away and gasp out, “You what? WHY?”

  Tommy shrugs as we approach the table where Henry is standing, hands on the back of one of the chairs, while Everly kneels in the one next to his. Her long, blonde hair spills onto the table as she hunches over a bunch of large hardback books.

  “Why else would she be so eager to see me?” Tommy pulls the chair out on the other side of Everly and gestures for me to sit in it. “But now she only hassles me in public places.”

  I can’t control my laugh before I tease him. “Yeah, I'm sure the fact that you skipped the entire first week of classes had nothing to do with her urgent request to meet."

  Henry lets out a, “Hmmm,”’ and I know it’s because I’m being too loud, but come on, I can’t wrap my brain around this group sometimes.

  “Ask him what she did when she saw him,” Everly says, her light laughter shaking her shoulders, and I notice Patrick has moved to stand next to her chair. His fingers glide through the strands of hair that flow down her back as he leans down to give her a chaste kiss.

  I whip my head toward Tommy, who grins at me before he says, “She told me to get out of her office, and she doesn’t get paid enough to deal with this shit.”

  “She’s got the dream life, aside from dealing with Tommy,” Everly tells me, smiling brightly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this relaxed in the short time I’ve known her, and I’m not sure if it’s because we’re just getting used to the constant turmoil, or if it’s because she’s repaired her relationship with Patrick and she knows he’ll protect her. Even I see a difference in him lately and in their relationship. It’s grown into a partnership where they’re evenly matched. “She’s an editor for romance novels, I guess like her side-gig or something.” She shrugs before adding, “And she married one of the cover models. Can you believe that?”

  Patrick huffs at Everly's mention of another guy, but clearly he’s trying to be better about his jealousy because instead of commenting, he directs his attention to Henry. “So, why are we here?”

  “We found the yearbooks of when Coach Leary went to college here.” Everly rights herself in the chair, then climbs down when Patrick nudges her with a hand on her ribcage. He takes her seat and she’s back on his lap, propping the yearbook up for us to see. She points at a photo of the Darlington Hockey team. “That’s Coach Leary.” She points to a short, stocky redhead, and then her finger drifts over to a dark-haired player with the same build. “That’s the police chief, and look at this.” She flips to another page, showing the pair cheesing for the camera.

  “They were the Elite before the Elite was a thing,” Tommy suggests, and Everly nods enthusiastically.

  Henry is quiet, more so than usual, and he must feel my eyes on him because he glances at me before addressing Everly. “Go ahead, tell them.”

  “Richie Sanders, that’s the chief's name.” Everly closes the book, and Tommy sits up straight in his chair.

  “The cop from the other night, he’s related to him?” I ask and Everly nods, but it’s Patrick who speaks, and he’s looking at Henry.

  “Well, what are we going to fucking do?”

  We pull up to the house just in time to see Zach walking up to the porch. Miles isn’t with him, and I suspect that means he was able to swindle his way into staying with Cassandra.

  When I’m out of the car, I immediately notice the worried look on Zach’s face, and move toward him without thinking about the way we left things.

  “What’s wrong?” My hands are on his face, pulling him down to look at me. His hands find a familiar path down my back, coming to rest on my hips. He leans down to kiss my forehead, and the gesture steals my breath, throwing me off-kilter.

  “What’s going on?” Henry asks after everyone is
out of the Escalade.

  “There’s a box on the porch, and with the way things have been going lately, I’m guessing it’s not a welcome to the neighborhood gift,” Zach answers, and my stomach drops. This isn’t going to ever end, it seems. I burrow my face into his chest, letting myself have this comfort, even if it’s just for a little while.

  “I swear to Christ, I’m going to pack my shit and get out of this town,” Tommy complains, flexing on his toes, craning his neck like it might help him see the plain cardboard box more clearly. “Well, boys, who’s it gonna be?” His eyes bounce between Zach and Patrick. “I’m a father now, I can’t afford to get blown up or electrocuted or whatever fun stuff they have planned this time.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Patrick grunts, and before anyone can stop him, he’s up on the porch picking up the box and hurling it in the yard away from all of us.

  “Patrick!” Everly sounds horrified, and I flinch as the box lands in the grass, its contents spilling out.

  “It’s safe,” he calls over his shoulder, like an actual psycho, as he hops over the railing to get to the box more quickly.

  We all walk over, and I see him drop to his knees as he picks up a colorful spiral-bound notebook and clutches a light pink ribbon in his fist.

  Everly doesn’t say anything, but with a quick ease, she’s kneeling down next to him, resting a comforting hand on his forearm.

  “Darcey’s things,” he murmurs, flipping through the notebook to a random page. His eyes scan and I see his jaw flex.

  “What does it say, Patrick?” Henry’s voice is hard, and I’m sure that’s because he’s not sure if Patrick is going to lash out. He’s still vulnerable when it comes to Darcey, and we’re all understanding of that.

  “It's her diary,” he says softly, flipping to another page. “It’s her handwriting. Just detailing her days…” he trails off, his brows furrowing as he reads a passage. I see his back go rigid just as Zach reaches out to grab my hand, flexing his fingers against mine like he always does when he wants me to know everything will be okay. I give his fingers a squeeze, then release them under the pretense that I need to check my phone. I can feel my resolve melting away, and that won’t do either of us any favors. We need to figure everything out when our emotions aren’t so high.

  “What does it say?” Tommy asks, impatient, but still keeping his distance from the box even though it’s clearly nothing dangerous.

  “She loved Andre,” Patrick says, and the pain filling his voice is evident when he continues, “She wanted to tell me, but didn’t think she could. She felt like the secret was ripping them apart.” He swallows thickly and rests his forehead in his palm, closing his eyes to push away whatever emotions he’s feeling.

  “It’s okay,” I hear Everly whisper as she leans over to kiss his shoulder, her palm soothing his back in small circles.

  Patrick pushes himself up quickly, pulling Everly with him, still clutching the notebook and ribbon. I recognize it from pictures I’ve seen of her. She often wore it when she was dressed in her dance clothing.

  “How did the Learys get all that shit?” Tommy asks, and I’m glad because I was wondering the same thing.

  “All signs point to it not being them,” Henry notes, leaning down to pick up the discarded box. “Something like this has Andre written all over it.” Henry gestures toward Darcey’s belongings.

  “Why the fuck would he do that? I thought he skipped town?” Tommy asks as we all head into the house. I can feel Zach behind me, but he doesn’t touch me again.

  “I think it’s a peace offering, and his way of telling us he didn’t have anything to do with Darcey, Beth, or Cassandra,” Henry says, taking off his coat and laying it over the back of the sofa in the front living room.

  “We’re going to head upstairs,” Everly cuts in because Patrick has already wordlessly started up the stairs toward their bedroom.

  Henry gestures for her to follow Patrick and she does, taking two steps at a time. Henry takes out his phone and heads into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Zach.

  As soon as we’re alone, I can feel the tension filling up the room like thick smoke. Hurriedly, I say, “I’m going to wash up and head downstairs for some yoga. Call me if anything else happens.” I laugh nervously because the way he’s looking at me right now has my bones turning to mush. His stare is heated, needy, but there’s a soft realization there as well.

  I don’t wait for him to answer, and he doesn’t stop me when I rush off to wash my face and change into a sports bra, crop top, and leggings. Luckily, Henry is the only one I see on my way downstairs and he has no interest in conversing. I’m only two songs into my routine when I glance up and gasp at what I see.

  Zach is standing in the doorway watching me, his eyes devouring every inch of me before they meet my eyes.

  I continue my routine, moving into the next position. I’m not really ignoring him, but I’m also not making an effort to ease the tension in the room. It’s his move now.

  He swallows thickly before he’s taking quick strides toward me. I don’t even realize that he’s scooping me up until he sits me down on the weight bench and kneels in front of me. My knees part, allowing him to move in close. His arms wrap around me, and he kisses my shoulder and then my collarbone as my fingers tunnel through his dark hair.

  I squeeze him closer because as much as I know this back and forth between us is toxic, I miss the closeness we share. His lips move to my neck and then to my ear when he whispers, “Game over. I’m all in, Kenney.”

  16

  Zach

  Kennedy’s arms slide around my neck, and I feel her breathe out a sigh. I expect her to relax into me, tilt her head and give me direct access to the side of her neck. But instead, she lets out a breathy chuckle, saying, “What was that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  “I said no more games,” I grunt against her neck because while I typically love her banter, we’ve got nearly two years of making up to do. I nip at her ear and haul her against me, standing up and bringing her with me.

  “No more games,” she repeats as my lips find hers, and she squeals when my hands cup her ass and I grind her into my throbbing dick.

  I pull my lips from hers when her petite legs wrap around my hips, and I groan at the sensation. I turn, fully prepared to carry her up to my bedroom and spend the next few hours worshiping her body, but I need to make sure she knows how serious I am. So instead, I press her back against the wall next to the door and roll my hips against hers.

  I rest my forehead against hers, pausing because I have to let her know how I feel. “This is for real, no excuses, no take-backs. After this, you’re mine.”

  She leans up and presses a quick kiss against my lips before adding, “And you’re mine.”

  I shake my head with a throaty laugh before dipping my head to the crook of her neck, breathing in her fresh, fruity scent. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” she taunts playfully. Her voice is raspy, unlike her usually chipper tone as she uses my own words against me.

  “I’m going to make up for the last couple years of bullshit,” I say, chuckling. I kiss her quickly but deeply, then let her slide down to her feet. “If I don’t get you upstairs…” I box her in, my forearms resting against the wall and my head dipping to kiss her again. “...in my bed…” another kiss “...under me…”

  She flexes on her toes, leaning up to deepen the kiss before pushing at my chest. When I back away, panting from the intensity of her mouth on mine, she grabs my hand and pulls me through the door and out into the basement living room.

  “Go lock the door.” She shoos me toward the stairs, but I don’t budge, looking down at her with confusion.

  “Beds are boring,” she says, waving her hand to indicate the fire in the fireplace that Henry must have started when we got home.

  I tip her chin up to ensure I have her full attention. “I can’t take your virginity on a basement
floor. I want this to be special for you.”

  She smirks, pulling my face down to brush her lips sensually against mine. “I’m giving it to you. And on the carpet in front of the fireplace is romantic.”

  I crash my lips down on hers, and I drink her in for a moment before I’m jogging up the stairs to snag a condom out of the first-floor bathroom, and then lock the door behind me. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I see her putting the knitted blanket from the couch on the floor with pillows, and I haul ass to check the back door that leads out to the yard. We always keep it locked, but better safe than Patrick walking in on what’s about to be the best moment of my life.

  I flick off the bright lights and before she can even get my name out, I’m kneeling on the blanket and pulling her to stand in front of me. I want to savor this, but I honestly don’t know if I can. I want her so much it hurts. I reach in my pocket and toss the condom on the blanket, then I lean forward and shove her crop top up, kissing her stomach while my fingers hook into the waistband of her leggings. She lets me tug them down quickly and then steps out of them, her hands resting on my shoulders for balance.

  I lean in and kiss each one of her thighs before she falls to her knees, grasping my face in her hands. I whisper, “I don’t want to go too fast. I want this to be perfect for you. That’s the least I can do.”

  She kisses me, biting my bottom lip and sucking it between her teeth just as my hands find her hips, my fingers digging into the flesh there. “We’ve waited long enough, and we have all night.” She smirks, the glow from the fire making her look ethereal. Just looking at her steals the breath out of my lungs. “You won’t break me, so stop acting like it.”

  I brush her hair back behind her ear, and my mouth moves to her neck. I hook my hands on the back of her thighs, tugging to lay her down, and she lets out an ‘oof’ when her head hits the pillows. Her hands are on me, tugging on my shirt until it’s tossed up on the couch and forgotten. I kiss up her stomach, inching her shirt up until it joins mine, along with her sports bra. I use my elbow to support my weight as my other palm finds her breast. I swallow her moan when I roll her nipple between my fingers and her hips arch up.