I hadn’t gotten a response text from him letting me know that he had left early too, but his reception is always spotty so far out here in the woods, as is mine on the long drive up here.
He probably parked in the back, near his small shed with the fishing equipment. Leave it to Dad to want to get a head start on getting things ready before I arrived.
He probably wants to surprise me by having it all set up by the time I get here, so we can fish now before the sun goes down instead of having to wait until the morning to start. That explains the lack of a text as well.
I head down the slight hill to the back of the cabin and freeze.
Because it’s not my dad who’s whistling.
It’s Christian Lewis.
I scream without meaning to, and he turns around calmly, since he was clearly expecting me.
“Lovely to see you again, Chelsea,” he says.
His light gray eyes pierce into mine, resembling a predator stalking its prey.
I try to run back to my car, but it’s like one of those bad dreams where everything goes in slow motion just when everything should be speeding up instead. My legs feel like lead. And I’m no match for a running back.
He quickly catches up to me and grabs my wrists, holding them behind my back.
I scream some more, although the closest cabin is half a mile away and I doubt anyone is around to hear me. He pulls tape out of his pocket— he’s obviously well prepared to do whatever it is he plans to do to me— and puts it over my mouth. I struggle to escape as he does it, but he pushes me down onto a chair and ties my wrists behind it.
“Don’t think you can escape,” he says. “There’s no way out.”
I’m tied to the same chair I was sitting in while Wesley and I prepared the fish for cooking.
That memory flashes before my eyes, as does my entire life. I can’t believe that just a short while ago, everything was great and I was falling in love with Wesley Reynolds.
Yes, it’s true. I was falling in love.
I am in love.
Only now when it appears that my life might be ending do I have the honesty to admit my feelings to myself. And it’s too late. I’ll never get to admit them to Wesley.
Chapter 47 – Wesley
I can’t believe I’ve been called into Coach Thompson’s office again.
Last time this happened, it wasn’t good. I’m hoping he might just want to call me out for being in fantasy land during practice. There can’t possibly be any more bad news, since I’ve been studying my ass off and walking the straight and narrow.
Taylor had found me a new tutor after the one she’d set up to test me with obviously hadn’t worked out. She’d told me she was sorry for not believing me but that she was glad I’d passed her test because a big part of her had always thought that Chelsea and I made a great couple.
But by then it was too late, as Chelsea was fed up with both of us. Hopefully our plan to win Chelsea back will work.
I can’t get with Chelsea until I convince her I’m not the monster she thinks I am. Which I have a plan for. It just takes time, and patience. And not being hassled any further by her father.
In the meantime, I’ve been studying my ass off and not missing a minute of class.
“Come on in,” Coach Thompson says, as soon as I knock on his office door.
“Hi Coach,” I say, rather nervously, sitting back down in what I’ve come to consider the “hot seat” on the other side of his desk
“Wesley. Thanks for coming in.”
Today he looks all business, but also kind of friendly— not menacing like he did the last time I was here.
“No problem, Coach. What’s up?”
“Well. A couple things. I got the result of your algebra retest and you did very well.”
“Whew.”
I can’t help but exhale with relief. I was pretty sure I’d done well on it, but that’s what I’d thought the last time too. And, fuck, had I been wrong about that.
“Guess your new tutor is working out better for you than studying with Christian, huh?” Coach asks.
“Sure seems that way.”
“About that. It appears we have a problem on our hands.”
I look up at him, trying to decipher how serious this problem is. From the look on his face it’s a pretty big one.
“What is it, Coach?”
“I received an anonymous tip that there are drugs in your locker, and that you’d sold them to the cheerleader who overdosed.”
“What?” I practically spring up out of my chair. “Coach. That’s ridiculous. I did no such thing. I can explain about the former charge on my record…”
“I know,” Coach says, the creases in his forehead becoming even more prominent. “And there’s no need to explain.”
I look at him, dumbfounded.
“My daughter vouched for you. And while I’m not entirely pleased with why or how that may have come to pass, that’s good enough for me.”
“Chelsea… did what?”
I’m still confused.
“How did Chelsea even know about these allegations?” I ask, incredulous.
“I don’t know,” Coach Thompson responds, scratching his head. “I guess word gets around fast. And I’m sure that Christian Lewis is behind all of this.”
“Really?”
I feel like such an idiot. I knew that Christian had been acting strangely but I’d just chalked it up to good old fashioned jealousy.
“Do you really think he’s capable of trying to sabotage me to this extent?”
Coach Thompson shrugs.
“Don’t know. But who else could it be? Seems to me he’s the only one who has shown any inclination or motivation to hurt you, and who knows how far he could take it?”
He scratches his chin before continuing.
“I’ve seen a dark side of him this season that I have to admit scares me. I don’t know what he’s capable of. But right now my main concern is figuring out what to do about this accusation.”
“Just ignore it?” I suggest. “Maybe once he figures out that nothing’s being done, he’ll escalate it and then we’ll have proof that it’s him behind it.”
“I thought about that,” Coach Thompson admits. “But the next logical step would be for him to go to the administration. And if the administration hears the allegations and finds out that I knew about them, they’re going to wonder why I didn’t fill them in. And there goes our agreement. They won’t let me let you play if I don’t stay on the up and up myself.”
“Yeah.”
I sink back into the “hot seat,” which would be burning my ass up right now if it were literally hot. That’s how much of a pickle we’re in.
“So now what?”
“I think I’m going to have to tell them what’s been alleged and that I don’t believe it,” Coach Thompson says. “But that means throwing Christian under the bus. And to tell you the truth, I’m afraid that if he escalates this, it won’t be something rational, like reporting to the administration.”
I nod, in full agreement.
“Nothing he’s been doing has been very logical,” the coach continues. “If he’s resorted to planting drugs to try to frame you and even that doesn’t work, then I don’t know what he’ll try to do to you next. At this point I have to look out for your safety here. I think that before I go to the administration, I somehow need to get ironclad proof…”
“Wait,” I interrupt, my heart racing faster than it does during an overtime pass. The phrases “escalating” and “dark side of him” and “don’t know what he’ll try to do to you next” keep banging around inside my head. “Where is Christian?”
“I don’t know,” Coach Thompson shrugs. “I tried to find him to talk about all of this, until I thought better of that plan and decided to call you in instead. But he never came to my office, even though I’d put the word out for him to come, before I did the same for you.”
“The last time I saw him, he was leav
ing campus after you’d announced that you were going to the lake house with Chelsea. Where is Chelsea?”
Coach Thompson suddenly looks as worried as I feel.
“She headed to the lake house early,” he says meekly, his skin turning pale.
“We need to go, now.”
Already on our feet, we both head towards the door.
“We need to call Taylor on our way,” I tell Coach Thompson.
I hope Taylor and I can still execute our plan to win Chelsea back once we find her. I hope it’s not too late for Chelsea and I to be together the way I’m now sure we’re meant to be.
Chapter 48 – Chelsea
Christian begins talking to me as he ties one of my ankles to the heavy cutting table beside the chair.
“You thought you could just turn me down and I’d forget all about it, didn’t you?” he asks.
I shake my head but since I can’t say anything in return, he just goes right on talking.
“I put myself out there, and I took the risk that your dad would kick me off the team. I might never be able to play football anywhere else again. But I still asked you out. Because that’s how much I knew I wanted to be with you.”
He glares at me, obviously hating me now while professing how much he used to like me.
“When you told me you couldn’t disobey Daddy Dearest I was hurt, but I figured, ‘Well, that makes sense. She has to worry about the risks just as I do. And she hasn’t discovered how we’re supposed to be together yet. As time goes by, she’ll realize there’s no other guy for her and eventually we’ll get together. Maybe even at the end of senior year, or after graduation, when they can’t do anything against us.’”
Wow.
He really had quite the Romeo and Juliet fantasy going on about him and me. I never realized he’d liked me that much.
I almost feel sorry for him, but then I realize he has me bound and tied up at my own family’s fishing cabin. He obviously has more than a couple screws loose, and I can’t put much weight into anything he says.
“But then Wesley Reynolds comes along to steal my thunder in every way possible. I was the star of the show on the field and off before he arrived.”
I look at him funny, and he says, “Oh, I know what you’re thinking. ‘Yes Christian, you were the star player on the team prior to Wesley’s arrival, but you were the running back. On a team with a bad quarterback. On a team that never wins games. So now you had the opportunity to be a good running back on a winning team with a great quarterback.’ But guess who gets all the credit and all the glory in that scenario?”
I just look at him.
“The fucking quarterback. That’s who. I was better off being a big fish in a small pond. Now I’m just a nobody.”
As he whines on and on, I think about how crazy it is that Wesley and I were just gutting fish in this very chair, and now I’m being held captive by a psychopath. My only hope is that my dad gets here soon. Although I’m pretty sure that Christian has a plan to deal with Dad if he does arrive. Somehow Christian knew I’d be here so he probably knows my dad is supposed to be here too.
And then I remember that the knife we were using to gut the fish would still be on the ground. I look around, and sure enough, I see it glistening in the grass not too far away, partially obscured by the table I’m tied to.
“And I’m clearly a nobody to you too,” Christian continues.
I quickly lift my eyes back up to his face and act interested in what he’s saying, so that he won’t figure out what I was just looking at.
“Because when Wesley came along, you quickly forgot all about Daddy Dearest’s rules. That was clearly only an excuse you wanted to use with me, not with the great and powerful Wesley.”
I try my best to look sympathetic, while trying to devise a plan of escape in my head that will give me enough time to distract Christian and get away from him.
I’m glad that he just continues talking. He must be oblivious to the knife’s existence. I’m beginning to realize that Christian isn’t the most observant guy. He only likes to focus on himself. And I can definitely use this fact in my favor.
“At first, I figured that Wesley would dig his own grave quickly enough. He’s always good at screwing things up for himself. And sure enough, right away he changed the coach’s call. He was disobedient and disrespectful. But did your dad care? No. Somehow he seemed to like Wesley even more.”
That’s Wesley, I think.
“So then, I had to get a bit more involved. I tried to screw Wesley over by pretending to help him on his math test but really only setting him up to fail.”
He announces this act in a bragging voice.
What an asshole.
“But that didn’t work either. He got yet another chance. Golden Boy can do no wrong. So I had to get even more involved. And now I have him where I want him— caught red-handed with a bunch of drugs in his locker.”
I just stare at him.
“I bet you’re wondering how I accomplished that feat,” Christian says, still bragging.
I wasn’t but I have no choice but to listen to his explanation anyway.
“It wasn’t very hard. I just told him I’d forgotten the key to the lock on my locker one day and asked if I could put some stuff in his. When he said sure and gave me his key, I made a copy of it so that I could plant the drugs later. What an idiot.”
You’re the idiot, I want to tell him, as I think about the knife on the ground that he completely missed.
“I’d like to see him wiggle his way out of this,” Christian continues. “And now Mandy is in a coma because of a drug overdose, and everyone thinks that Mandy bought them from him.”
I can’t believe how cold he is.
“The coma was just a surprise bonus,” he says. “Sure, I sold Mandy drugs— it was easy. Just get her drinking and she’ll try anything. But I didn’t know she was so clueless that she’d mix up a bunch of them together and put herself into a coma. Apparently it was her first time and my mistake was assuming she was a pro.”
Poor Mandy.
“I wanted her to get drugged up enough to where I could have her call your dad and say she was on drugs that Wesley had sold her. Instead she just passed the fuck out. But fine. Now people will just think Wesley caused her coma. And then people will hear about poor Chelsea too, but in the context of being just another of Wesley’s victims.”
So that’s his plan. To set Wesley up as the perpetrator of my demise. This guy sinks even lower than I thought anyone could sink.
“But first I’m going to take what was supposed to be mine. You.”
He takes a step towards me, and my heart pounds with fear. But then he pauses, looking around.
“Fuck. Where’s the other rope? I know I just had it. To tie up your other foot, so there’s no way you can get away from me. It was right here…”
This guy should be on one of those episodes of Stupid Criminals.
He walks backwards, retracing his steps, and finally turns around to look behind him and find the rope.
Here’s my opportunity.
It’s now or never.
I stand up, bringing the chair with me since I’m attached to it. Then I pull one of my wrists out of the rope. Luckily, it comes free.
Obviously this idiot didn’t go to boy scouts— or fishing camp— and he has no idea how to tie a good knot.
“What the—?” Christian begins, coming back over to where I am, without having found his other piece of rope.
I do a quick side lunge and grab the knife. I never thought my gymnastics classes and cheerleading moves would come in handy to this extent.
I slice the rope that was holding my ankle to the chair so that I’m free. Then I hold the knife up in front of Christian.
“Woah. Hey there,” Christian says, backing up from me. “Take it easy. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Of course we don’t,” I mock him, leveling the knife right in front of his face. “But I’m g
oing to need you to switch places with me. All I’ll do is tie you up the way you were trying to tie me up, but I’ll do a much better job of it.”
“Chelsea, please…” he begins, but I slap the tape over his mouth.
“No more talking. You’ve done enough of that.”
He lunges at me and I instinctively lower the knife, making contact with the top of his thigh.
He makes a muffled scream underneath the tape and tears spring to his eyes.
“Oh you’re fine,” I tell him, sitting him down on the chair and wrapping his wrists with the same piece of rope that he had inexpertly used on me. “It’s just a surface wound.”
He moans, but I ignore him as I tie up one of his ankles.
What a drama queen.
“You really will be fine. Which is good because you need to go to jail now,” I tell him.
I bend down and scoop up something else I’ve had my eye on the whole time.
“Oh, and by the way, your other piece of rope is right over here where you left it. It’ll be perfect for me to use on your other ankle.”
Chapter 49 – Wesley
It’s been a long drive to the lake house with Coach Thompson. We haven’t said much, but my mind has been racing with fear and worry, and I know that it’s been the same way for him.
As we finally pull up to the cabin, he says, “There’s her car.”
It’s eerily quiet, with no one around that I can see.
“There’re no other parked cars,” I say. “That’s good. Doesn’t look like anyone else is here.”
But when we walk into the cabin calling Chelsea’s name, there’s no answer.
It’s so weird for me to be here again, in the place where Chelsea and I first started. I miss her and I really hope she’s okay. I have the horrible realization that if Christian is here and is out to get her, then he could have taken her anywhere— even down to the lake.
But then as if on instinct— or maybe memory— I look out the back window.
Out of Line: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance Page 30