Conflicted (The Deliverance Series Book 2)

by Maria Macdonald

  I smile at him, then hiss at the pain.

  “Be careful,” Casper orders. I don’t miss the smirk that Tarrant sports at his words.

  “Things worked out then,” Tarrant states, it’s not a question.

  “Seems that way.” I smile at my brother.

  Things have calmed down over the last few weeks.

  I still haven’t told Casper that I love him. It’s because I’m worried I’ll scare him. Although, he’s never given me the impression I could do anything to scare him. From the moment he admitted he wanted to be with me, from the second he claimed me, he’s been one hundred percent in. Never wavering, never hiding, never withholding. So I know it’s my own issue.

  Casper even introduced me to his Uncle Frank and his mom, Cathy. She’s lovely, if a little overprotective of her only son. They both welcomed me with open arms, as did my mom with Casper—when I finally managed to pin her down.

  Den, Tim, and Todd were expelled, and Aaron is still skulking around school. Because he didn’t do anything more than hold me, and because Tarrant made him bleed, it was considered tit for tat. I ignore him and Coach kicked him off the team.

  Morgan seems to be coping. Laura and I are due to go stay with her next weekend, so hopefully, she’ll tell us what she’s decided to do about the pregnancy. She still has time, but not much, meaning she must make a decision soon.

  “Hey,” Casper greets, sliding in next to me at the lunch table.

  “Hey,” I turn and smile at him.

  “How was your morning?” he asks me.

  “All right. Football practice?” I reply.

  “It was good. We’re ready for the final game tomorrow.”

  “That’s great. I’ll be there cheering you on,” I tell him with a wink.

  “Come into the locker room, stay with the team. I asked Coach, and he said it was fine. Please? For me?”

  I shake my head but smile. “How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?”

  Tarrant and Laura join, as do the rest of football team, and everyone inhales their food while mostly discussing the upcoming game.

  “I’m going with the team tomorrow,” I tell Tarrant.

  He nods. “You’ll be with Casper?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Cool, I’ll come for the game then I’ll hit the road, I have some work to do on a car and want to get it finished this weekend,” he explains.

  “How’s business?” I ask.

  “Good. Doing really well, actually. Can’t wait to see the back of this place. You decided what you want to do after college yet?” he asks.

  “Nope. Still struggling to work out what I want.”

  “Well, what do you love?” he asks, and my eyes quickly dart to Casper who’s deep in conversation with Solomon. Tarrant smirks when I look back at him, and I roll my eyes with a grin. “I guess, I love art.”

  “So that’s a good place to start, right?” His words sink in, and my eyes widen.

  “Shit, yeah, you’re right!” I almost shout as excitement courses through me.

  Tarrant shrugs like he hasn’t just shaken my world.

  “Now class, this is your final assignment,” Mr. Stark says holding up a camera. “Remember, I told you you’d need a proper camera? Well, I hope you heeded my words because the time is now.” He places the camera on the desk in front of him and taps it gently. “The assignment is simple. I want you to find something beautiful in the ordinary. Take as many photos as you want, and create a collage, not a PowerPoint or something on your computers. An old-fashioned, honest to goodness, collage, with paper and glue and all that good stuff.” He smiles and some of the class giggle.

  “I’m really looking forward to this,” I tell Casper the minute we leave.

  “Me, too,” he says as we stroll down the hall. “Are you going to the pre-game party tonight?” I ask him.

  “No. I thought maybe we’d spend the evening together. Kick back? Maybe watch a movie?”

  “You should go. Mom’s coming home tonight and wanted to spend the night with Tarrant and me. Laura’s hitting the books and also spending an ungodly amount of time on the phone to Morgan no doubt, and anyway, the whole team is expected to go.”

  He grumbles, but chucks his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in close. And now, nobody bats an eyelid at our PDA.

  “Whoo!” I holler, cupping my hands around my mouth. “That was a fucking awesome game,” I tell my old teammates excitedly as they jog off the football field and head straight to me. “You killed out there.” They all gather around, and we holler out our old chant. Casper grabs me, pulling our foreheads together. “That was for you,” he tells me, and even though I know it was the team that won, I appreciate the sentiment behind his words.

  “Go shower,” I say and slap his ass as he grabs his helmet from the floor and heads inside.

  “The team did well today, Reigns,” Coach Stanford says sidling up to me.

  “They did, Coach,” I reply.

  “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  I glance up at him questioningly.

  “You may not be on the team now, but you were for over half of it. You helped get us here. It’s only right that you celebrate with us,” he tells me.

  I walk inside with him and celebrate with my team.

  “So movies and chilling tonight, that is what you wanted, right?” I ask him.

  There’s going to be a big party tonight, and even though I was happy to go, Casper was adamant he didn’t want to. He nods at me, but there’s something he’s not telling me.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. He opens his mouth to lie, and I call him on it. “Don’t say it’s nothing.” His mouth snaps shut, and I wait silently.

  Shaking his head, he sinks down onto the sofa. “It’s stupid.”

  “So? I still want to hear it,” I reply, turning to face him.

  “Some guys from the other team were there last night, with Todd. Apparently, that’s his school now.” He shrugs.

  “Oh fuck, what happened?”

  “Just acted like homophobic assholes. The team put them out,” he answers smirking, and I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what Casper and the team would have done. “Anyway…” he shrugs, “… I don’t need a repeat of last night. What I want, tonight is to celebrate my win and chill with my boyfriend.”

  It’s the first time he’s called me that, and although I know that’s what we are, I’m still as shocked as shit he’s said it aloud.

  “You okay?” he asks frowning.

  I blink and continue to stare at him. “I-I… it’s the first time you’ve called me that,” I mutter stupidly.

  “Well, that’s what you are. The most important part of that sentence was one particular word.”

  “Boyfriend?” I reply.

  “No.” He smirks. “Mine.”

  My stomach dips and his smirk turns into a smile. His eyes hooded. Leaning down, he kisses me fully on the mouth, licking along the connection of my lips, so they open automatically. His hands find purchase on my hips, dragging me closer, as his tongue strokes mine.

  I pull back, and he frowns. “You said my, not mine.”

  He grins. “Well, then, Caden, let me be clear. You. Are. Mine.”

  I don’t get another word out before his mouth crashes down again, determined to prove the action to his words.

  I look down at Casper sleeping soundly. He’s lying on his front, both arms tucked under his pillow. Leaning down, I kiss his spine, and he moans sleepily.

  “Morning, baby,” he whispers.

  “Morning,” I reply, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  Casper turns over to face me. “Where are you going?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him.

  “I’m going over to the fields, I want to take some photos. Sunday’s are usually pretty quiet out there so I won’t be in the way if I park the truck on the side of the road,” I explain. “Anyway, it’s nearly noon, you need to get your delectable, but lazy
ass, up.”

  He does an ab curl and kisses me, it’s not soft and tender, it’s hard and needy, and I feel my body react.

  Pulling away, I put some distance between us. “I need to get this assignment done, I think…” I look away then back to him, “… I know what I want for my future,” I tell him.

  “Oh?” he replies, genuinely curious.

  “Don’t laugh, but I want to be a curator at an art museum. I’ll need to intern and stuff, but it’s what I want.”

  Casper studies my face. “Firstly, I will never laugh at you. Okay?” I nod in reply, and he runs his finger across my eyebrow and down my cheek. “Secondly, I think you’d rock at that job, and I’ll support you in every way I can. Now go, before I drag you back to bed,” he tells me smiling.

  I head out to my truck, Betty, placing my camera on the passenger seat.

  Starbucks first, then the field.

  Two hours later and I can’t stop smiling as I flick through the photos on my camera. I feel really good about what I’ve captured so far. Plus, the bonus is that I’m truly enjoying this assignment. It’s like my life has fallen into place and I shake my head, wondering how I got so lucky.

  I realize I made a huge mistake as I head back to Betty, knowing my cell is inside her cab. My realization occurs a few seconds after a truck pulls up behind her, and a group of six guys—all with baseball caps pulled down low—hastily jump out. I try to act like they’re not there, hustling to get to Betty, but they’re on me before I make it. I’ve no idea who they are, or what they want, but I’m on the ground before I have a chance to even look at a single face.

  It’s funny, or maybe it isn’t.

  In a moment when life can become so abhorrent, so horrifically cruel it should be all our brain allows us to focus on, that’s when the beautiful mind comes into its own. Because in that second it provides escape, taking us away from the unbearable pain we’re living in the present.

  Fists rain down on me like rocks, heavy boots striking my ribs with force, my lungs struggle to breathe, and my eyes strain to find solace. Searching out the only beautiful in that moment, purple and pink blur my vision as the tears flow uncontrolled. I don’t know where my camera went in the tussle, but if the field of Cosmos flowers I was photographing is the last thing I see, then I’m truly blessed my mind has decided to gift me with that beauty.

  As they shout their poisonous words, aggressively delivering evil—no doubt accompanied by spittle—my body becomes numb, and my mind tries to do the same.

  “Fucking faggot.”

  “Yeah, dirty ass beater.”

  “I hate pussies like you. I bet you were staring at our dicks in the changing room.”

  I don’t argue, don’t mention that I wasn’t even in their changing room. There’s no point. Six against one, the odds aren’t in my favor. Instead, I focus on the flowers. Something pretty in the darkness. I know it won’t be long before I black out. Then I may wake up… or I might not.

  My teeth rattle and blood pools on the ground as it spills from my mouth. Another blow hits my skull, and the throbbing spreads as my ears start ringing. Someone must jump on my lower leg because a scream rips from my chest as the pain radiates through my limb. Coughing, I’m not sure my body can sustain much more, while my chest revolts as I try to breathe.

  I don’t know what the afterlife will be like. Is there even a place for someone like me?

  There’s only one thing on my mind. One person. Casper. And as I slip in and out of consciousness, I hope, no, I fucking pray, that they haven’t got any suspicions about him. I need to let him know they came for me, I need to warn him.

  Looking through the slits that my eyelids have become, I can only make out a dark figure as he crouches down at my side. “You’re a disease. People like you shouldn’t be allowed to socialize within normal society.” His hot breath smells of beer, and I know his voice, but it’s out of my grasp right now, held somewhere in the recesses of my brain. I can’t quite pick out who it is. But I know it. I know him. “The fact is, fags like you are always trying to turn real men like me.” He trails his finger across my chin, and I catch a faint whiff of something… peanuts. “You’ll never be a real man.” With those words, he punches me once, twice, three times in the face before I lose count and unconsciousness, or death takes me.

  “Caden!” The scream rips me from the darkness, like a tear in the edge of space, I’m sucked toward the sound. Just about managing to open an eye as the physical blows cease, I see Casper.

  I want to shout, ‘No!’ I want to tell him to run, as fast as he can. He can’t be here, he can’t get hurt.

  “Casper,” I croak, but he doesn’t hear me, I don’t think anyone can. There’s too much noise, people are shouting. I hear Casper’s roars of pure anger, but he’s still only one person.

  Just one.

  My eyes drift shut, I’m desperate to keep watching, but they’re so heavy. Screeching tires force me to look once again, this time it’s Tarrant. The car barely comes to a stop before his door is open and he’s out, smacking the shit out of someone. I can’t hold onto my consciousness anymore. As my eyes close again, all I can think is how there’s only two of them, and I pray they’re okay.

  “… his tibia has a compound fracture. He’s had surgery. Metal plates and screws were needed to align it, and he has an air cast fitted. That’s the boot. He has broken ribs, which we’ve wrapped as there isn’t much else we can do.”

  “Oh God...”

  “He also has a broken jaw. Thankfully, it’s a minor fracture so he’ll be uncomfortable, but it will heal on its own. Mr. Reigns has lost four teeth, he’ll have to visit the dentist for repair. Apart from that, it’s mainly cuts and bruises. Mrs. Reigns, your son will need quite a few months of recovery for his leg. And physical therapy. But he will recover.”

  “And the other one? Caden’s friend?”

  “I’m afraid he didn’t make it. He bled out at the scene.”

  “Oh God.”

  Fuck!

  Pain radiates through my body, there’s not an inch that doesn’t throb. Even breathing hurts. A thick metallic taste coats my mouth.

  Casper. I can’t seem to catch my breath as I remember him turning up. Opening my eyes to an empty room, panic slices through me and I start coughing. A nurse rushes in and presses a buzzer, then tries to sit me up.

  Another nurse hustles in almost instantly. “Breathe, Mr. Reigns. Here, take a sip of water,” she tells me when I’ve managed to control myself. Tentatively, I sip as she holds the plastic cup to my lips. It’s warm, but it soothes my throat.

  “My friends, my brother,” I wheeze out.

  “Just keep calm, and we’ll find out what we can.”

  My heart flutters like birds wings as I try to calm myself. People describe a heart as thumping, beating and battling in your chest. Mine doesn’t feel like that, the fluttering is so fast and so faint, I’m concerned that at any minute it’s going to stop.

  “Please, tell me something,” I urge.

  She smiles down at me softly and taps my forearm. “I do know your brother is okay as he was here yesterday.” She frowns. “Unless you have more than one brother?”

  “No,” I answer trying to shake my head, quickly hissing at the pain.

  “Be careful. You’ve been through the wars, Mr. Reigns—”

  “Caden. Please.”

  Smiling again she nods. “Caden, I’m Lucy.” I try to offer her a smile in return, but it hurts my jaw. “It’s early, around six am. Your family will no doubt be here soon,” she says continuing to smile. “Another nurse told me they had to basically be kicked out last night.” Lucy giggles. “Anyway, the doctor will arrive in a moment to go through your injuries.”

  “My friends?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” she replies sadly.

  The door swings open. “Mr. Reigns, glad to see you awake, and with us.” An older man strides into the room with purpose. “I’m Doctor Hicks, how are yo
u feeling,” he asks, his tone even, his body language indifferent. Despite making me feel like just another number, he also brings a calm with him.

  “Peachy,” I grind out.

  “Good. Good,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “So, you’ve see the air cast.” He nods to my booted leg. “You had to have surgery which resulted in metal plates and screws because you had a compound fracture in your Tibia, that’s the bigger bone in the lower part of your leg. You’ll make a full recovery, but you will always beep going through airport security.” He laughs, and I want to stick my booted foot up his ass. “You’ll probably feel uncomfortable across most of your body.” He looks over my form, and I want to shout, ‘No Shit Sherlock,’ but my jaw aches too much to talk unnecessarily. “You have two fractured ribs, a minor fracture on your jaw, and you’ve lost some teeth.”

  What the fuck does some mean?

  “You had a slight concussion which we monitored. It hasn’t given us any cause for concern, though.” He reels the words off like practiced lines in a play. “Of course, there’s bruising to a high proportion of your body as well as cuts and grazes, but you will survive. Physical therapy will be required for your leg. Time and patience will be needed for the rest of you.”

  “Can you tell me about the others?” I whisper, my jaw resisting the movement.

  “Others?” Dr. Hicks asks, his eyebrows dipping with confusion.

  “I wasn’t alone.” I gingerly sweep my arm down my body as my voice trembles.

  His head jerks back. “Oh… I can’t comment on the others. I’m sorry, patient confidentiality.”

  I decide not to reply, partly because I’m in pain, but more so because I have nothing to say.

  There’s a white clock on the wall, it’s ticking backward, or at least it feels like it is. I’m desperate for someone to arrive—Tarrant, my mom… Casper. I’ve been trying not to think about him, desperately trying, because every time I do, I stop breathing. I’m so scared, so damn scared he’s not okay. I remember the conversation my mom had with a nurse. I know someone died. What’s freaking me out is that I must know that person… I might even love that person.