Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1)

by Belladona Cunning

  It doesn't take long for me to pack a little bag for Maverick, and then we're on our way to the park. Surprise still lingers in my body that Jenna even knew about this place, with it being as far away from our apartment as you can get without leaving campus. The play area is hidden between three gigantic, withered oak trees that seem to span four floors high, and completely encompass the play area.

  My eyes widen as I take everything in with wonder. If I knew about this place, I'd have already brought Maverick. He loves sliding on the little kiddie slides and loves nothing more than playing with other kids his age or just a little older. He's big for his size, averaging the size of a three-and-a-half-year-old, rather than a newly turned two-year-old. The doctor assures me it's just genetics, and seeing Hunter, I don't even question it.

  Maverick takes after his dad in every way. Size, strength, height, and he's as smart as a tack. Already well on his way to speaking full, complete sentences, instead of broken up phrases you sometimes have to pick apart to know what he's meaning.

  There's a sandbox in the shape of a stop sign over to the left, with one little girl and who I assume is her father sitting right next to her, studying out of his text. Every once in a while, he'll flick his eyes up to make sure she's still there. My heart can't help but warm at the sight.

  About ten to twenty feet away, I spy a set of twins being pushed in little child swings by their mom and hopefully her significant other, considering the way he grabs her butt and plants a giant kiss on her lips while she laughs into him.

  The best thing about this playground? Out of the hectic and crazed campus, this place is peaceful and relaxing and completely fenced in. This is a place that Maverick and I will be visiting often.

  "How do you even know about this place?" I ask Jenna as we open the gate and head inside.

  She chirps a giggle. "This will sound pathetic, I know. But ever since I found out you had a kid, I've been looking for things the little tyke can do. This playground was a mess and a half when I stumbled on it. One call to my stepdad, after explaining the situation, and within a week, GOU now has this little treasure." She holds her arms out and turns in a full circle.

  My feet stop of their own accord, and I peer at her in disbelief. "You did this?"

  She nods, smiling so brightly I can't help but mirror it. "Three weeks may be all I've known him, but he's already grown on me. And when he told me he wanted to slide, Auntie JJ made it happen."

  I grab her up in a hug, trapping Maverick between us. I squeeze her tightly, emotion burning the back of my throat as I whisper, "You are the best, Jenna. Truly."

  She pats my back, and I feel her swallow, probably trying to get her emotions in check, too. But just as soon as the sappy moment falls over us, it's gone, because my little tyke is ready to get some playing done. He shoves off my legs, breaking us apart. We both choke out a laugh, and then lead him over to the sandbox for him to play with the little girl. The dad merely looks up from his text, gives us a smile, and then goes back to reading after a quick flick of his eyes toward his daughter.

  Sitting the bags down, Jenna and I find a spot to sit in and give Maverick what little toys we brought with us—a few cars, a shovel, and a bucket just in case he found a dirt pile for him to play in. He releases a whimsical laugh before running off to show his new friend some of his goodies. I smile, sucking in a shuddering breath, an aftereffect of releasing too many emotions earlier.

  Jenna and I smile at each other, reveling in the quiet when we see Maverick giving the little girl “the look” before he smiles and hands her one of his cars. I snort, and Jenna bumps my shoulder, mouthing, “Just like his daddy.” I can't help but nod.

  We spend most of the afternoon there, watching as Maverick flits between play area to play area, smiling and laughing, and just having a grand ol’ time. He loves it here, and I love that he loves it. Fuck, I have the best friend any girl could possibly have, and I really don't deserve her.

  After a while, Jenna sidles up to me. "Easton and I aren't seeing each other anymore."

  She says it like it's just another day, but I know Jenna Doyle. If she gets involved with anyone, especially someone like Easton Banks, for too long, then I know this is bothering her more than she's letting on. Jenna can hide from everyone except me. Much the same way I can hide my true feelings away from everyone except her and Hunter.

  She takes one look at me and smirks. "No use in trying to shrink me, Lo. It's all good. Promise."

  I don't know how convincing she's trying to be, but it's not exactly working with me. However, I decide to put it on the back burner. Jenna will come to me when she's ready to tell me what happened. When she does, I'll be there for her just like she's there for me.

  When the sun starts lowering in the Western sky, we pack up our things and start making our way back to the apartment. It's a Saturday night, and it sounds like a good time for Chinese takeout and some old cartoon movies—at least until it's Maverick's bedtime.

  Entering the apartment complex, I gather Maverick into my arms and climb the steps. But once we reach the top, I nearly slam into Jenna's back. Grumbling, I step out from around her.

  "Lord have mercy. Make me fall, why don't ... " My words trail off into a whisper when I find Hunter sitting on the floor beside our door, head bowed with his chin on his knee, sleeping.

  Maverick would be throwing a fit right now if he wasn't doing the same thing, trying his best to fall asleep before dinner, bath, and bed. He looks hollowed out, tired. So tired, in fact, I can't even bring myself to ogle him, with his long, thick lashes, and strong angular jawline. His hair lies askew on top of his head, and his clothes wrinkly, like he's been wearing them for a few days.

  Jenna's eyes meet mine. An unspoken conversation moves between us before she takes Maverick from me without asking. He's all too happy to go to her, and instantly puts her head in her neck.

  "I'll take him for some pizza across campus," she whispers, trying her best not to wake Hunter up.

  For a split second, the selfish thought of making him stay hits me. But I know that's more because of my misgivings of being alone with Hunter rather than wanting my son to miss out on what has become his favorite meal.

  Instead, I shove all my anxiety back and give her a nod. Hurriedly, she disappears down the stairs with Maverick's bag, and out the front door. Stepping the rest of the way onto the landing, I swallow my pride and nervousness and hedge my way toward Hunter's sleeping form.

  God, he looks so beaten down and tired. His restless spirit seems broken, even while he's asleep.

  Hunkering down beside him, I slowly raise my hand and smooth back the hair that's fallen over his eye. His head tilts to the side a smidge, but it's enough to wake him up. His eyes move around under his closed lids before they lazily flutter open and settle on me. I can tell the moment the sleep leaves him, as his eyes become clearer and laser-focused on my face.

  He surprises me, though. Instead of greeting me, it seems like seeing me tore his walls completely down.

  "I'm so fucking sorry." My mouth falls open, watching as tears build in his gorgeous, exotic eyes, before trailing down his cheeks. "The things I've done to you. The pain I've caused."

  Emotion builds in my own eyes as I watch this strong, arrogant man break right in front of me. "Hunter, what's the matter?"

  He settles back against the wall, his hands coming up to cover his face. His movement makes me back up a little, but I’m no less worried about what seems to be going on.

  Through his hands, he says, "I was betrayed—" His eyes meet mine, so full of sorrow and pain, it makes my chest hurt. I rub it, subconsciously. "—but not by you."

  CHAPTER 33

  Four Days Ago …

  I watch Harloe walk away from me, with Maverick cuddled to her chest and looking back over her shoulder. He sees me watching them leave and gives me a big thumbs up while smiling.

  That kid. No matter what life has going on around us, he can make me smile, forcing a
ll my worries to drift away until they're nothing.

  Which is the very reason I'm even terrified to look at the results of this test. Harloe says she is one hundred percent sure I am the father, and you know what ... I'm starting to believe her. But like I told her, it's hard for me to trust anyone because the people I was supposed to trust ended up betraying me.

  Owen, for starters. We share blood, and he outright told me that he and Harloe were together. All without a fissure of guilt or regret in his voice. He just spits it out one night after I got home from her house like we were talking about the weather or something.

  At first, I called bullshit. Our parents had taught us that family came first, no matter what. You fought for blood, you died for blood, and you lied for blood if it came down to it. They would always say the most toxic people in your life could also be connected to you by blood, but that our family, the Princes, knew how important family is before anything.

  Such a toxic lie from the queen herself. And that night, I found out the hard way.

  Watching Harloe walk away from me a second time nearly steals what little air I have left in my battered lungs. Her words, "we were over a long time ago," are left floating through the air like a cloud of doom, nearly unmanning me. I want to punch something. Rip it to shreds with my bare hands, just like my heart feels inside my chest. But none of that will change anything. I hurt Harloe terribly back in school, and the test in front of me ... has just as much weight to hurt me in return.

  If I am Maverick's dad, then I've missed two years of his life. All the way from birth until a few weeks ago. I missed his first steps and words. I missed his first tooth coming in, and all the nightly diaper changes.

  I missed being a dad to him during his most vulnerable time being in this world.

  If I'm not Maverick's dad, then that knowledge will solidify she's been with Owen.

  But ... I'm not sure I believe that anymore. Even with the evidence he has saved to his cloud.

  Because ... why would he turn himself in if he knew what it would cause? Owen is not overly vindictive, even when he's in front of someone he loathes. He and Harloe never got along, and if they were in the room for more than five minutes, he'd get up and disappear to his room for the rest of the night.

  I can't keep living like this.

  Standing up, I make a rash decision. Instead of answering Owen's calls, which he tends to do every day, I'm going to pay him a visit. He doesn't live with Mom and Dad anymore, but his house isn't too far away from theirs, located on the same street.

  I never started second-guessing him until Harloe came back. You know, because he was my brother.

  But maybe I should have because he's my brother. I know him, just like he knows me.

  Throwing some money down onto the table, I snatch up the envelope and race out of Mom and Pop’s. I run across campus, garnering the curious gazes of everyone making their way to and from classes. I was supposed to be in class with the guys today, but I can't bring myself to care. This is more important.

  Digging into my pocket, I gather my keys and nearly rip my car door off its hinges as I jump inside. It takes me a few tries to stick my key in the ignition and get the car started, due to my hand shaking from adrenaline.

  My phone starts ringing in my pocket, but I disregard it with only one thing in mind—finding Owen and finally getting an explanation.

  Not allowing my anger to get the best of me, so I make rash decisions in regards to the people in my life.

  Not allowing him to half-ass his way through what he and she did. I am going to get detailed accounts for it all. I'll know if he's lying to me because Owen is a terrible liar when he has to explain anything.

  Spinning tires out of the GOU campus, I head to town. I mutter a thanks under my breath when the light stays green at the intersection, and race on through it. Everyone on the sidewalk, meandering through the local stores, stop and stare, but I couldn't care less. I disregard their honking horns and yelling at me to slow down and race my way toward Owen's.

  By the time I get there, the sun is high in the sky and burning down my back. My car screeches on the pavement as I all but slam my foot on the brake, and drift into his driveway.

  His road has two rock pillars on either side of his drive that leads to a roundabout in front of his two-story colonial. It's like a burnish eggshell, with dark green shutters along the doors—no porch around the front, and a carport that doubles as a lounging balcony outside his room.

  Which is where he's sitting when I slam my breaks and come to a screeching halt. I watch as he jumps up from his chair, holding a beer in his hand, and looks down at me in confusion.

  No shit, he's confused. I haven’t willingly spoken to him in three years, and here I am at his house. Gathering what little courage I have left, I grab the envelope and turn the car off and get out. I slam the door, stopping right beside the hood and continue to stare at him in tense silence.

  Owen is the one to break first. "Never thought I'd see you here."

  All I do in return is hold up the letter, knowing his curiosity will get the best of him. Sure enough, it does.

  "That is?"

  My rough, gritty voice seethes low in my throat. "A paternity test."

  I must have taken him off guard because he jerks up straight and stares at me, clearly lost for words, mouth nearly hanging open.

  "A paternity test? For whom?"

  Walking around to the front of my car, I lean back against the grill as if I haven’t a care in the world. Really, on the inside, I'm thrashing around and fighting at the thought of even being here. Being near Owen is taking all of my restraint.

  "Harloe." I cock a brow, waiting for something to register. When his facial expression never changes, I hedge further. "She had a son. Maverick. Did Duncan not tell you?"

  He slowly shakes his head, too stunned to reply in words.

  I chuckle, low and threatening. "So, you didn't know you could be a dad, too?"

  Just as soon as the question leaves my lips, all the blood drains from Owen's face. His skin takes on a sheen of green, giving him a sickly look, as he backs away from the railing and takes a seat on the patio furniture he has up there.

  Without asking for permission, because I refuse to ask for shit when it comes to him, I make my way inside and up to his room. What I see when I step into his bedroom makes me pause.

  Bottles on top of bottles linger on the floor. His room looks like a cyclone hit it. There are whiskey, cognac, scotch, and bourbon bottles all empty and laying around like he couldn't give enough effort to throw them away. Take out containers litter every surface imaginable. Pizza, Chinese, Steakhouse—pretty much any restaurant venue you can think of.

  The stink is what hits me next. It's musky and smells like mold, probably from the takeout containers. Lord only knows how long those have been in here.

  And he's probably the only one who knows the reason his bedroom is in this current state.

  Pushing it all to the side, literally and figuratively, I slide open his door and make my way outside to a scene just as daunting.

  "O, man, the fuck is going on with you?"

  "Harloe had a kid, you say?" He answers my question with a question. “Look at the results yet?”

  I toss the envelope onto the table between us. His eyes flick down to it, barely giving it a second glance, before darting up to mine as he takes another pull off his beef. A beer that seems to be one of many.

  "You know good and damn well, I have.” Not. But I’m not going to tell him that. I want the truth, and something tells me this is the only way I’ll ever get it. Call it a hunch, but something tells me there’s more to Owen’s story. “Now, tell me the truth. All of it. Every single detail."

  His body stiffens, and then his eyes lock with mine. A range of emotions plays over his face, before finally, he settles on one I know all too well. Guilt. That’s been my life’s blood ever since I saw the little man for the first time.

  I don't say an
ything, giving him nothing, as I continue to glare down at him. Tense, silent, minutes fill the humid Georgia air, and not even the warm breeze, with the scent of lilac and honeysuckle, can make me break character.

  Again, his eyes flick down to the envelope, and he swallows hard. A cold, distinct feeling starts churning in my gut the longer he says nothing. So much so, I have to put a hand over it and clench my fingers around the part of my shirt that's covering my stomach.

  Shit is clearly going on with Owen, which is probably the reason he's been trying to reach out. Even though he knew I didn't want to speak to him, he's been calling me nonstop for weeks. Between him and Cassandra, my phone has been busier than a whore on Saturday night.

  "Do Mom and Dad know?"

  My fury finally boils over. All the pain and suffering caused by his hands. The future that was jerked away from me and left me unable to heal from the knife he plunged into my back and never took out.

  Slamming my hands down on the table, I yell, "Goddammit, Owen! Fucking tell me! I can't live like this anymore; the pain is eating me alive!"

  Between one heartbeat and the next, Owen shatters my entire world for the second time. The sound of his sigh releasing into the evening air weighs my body heavily with pain. It sinks into my skin like a hot brand, permanently marking me, making me just as cruel and ugly on the outside as I am on the inside.

  "Knew you’d find out the truth,” he releases on a sigh. “Never could stop digging.”

  “O,” I grind out, my fists clenching beside my thighs, stewing for a fight.

  “Nothing happened between us, Hunt," he finally says, whispering his ugly truth out into the world. "She never slept with me, and I never touched her."

  With his confession, I lose all sense of reality. Pain is my motivator, and exacting revenge is my goal. I slam my hand on top of the offensive envelope—the piece of paper that no doubt proves Harloe's innocence and Maverick’s biological dad—and rip that fucking thing to shreds. I rip it up until it's nothing more than unintelligible pieces of parchment, completely unreadable.