Endgame: An Ocean Bay standalone novel

by Chloe Walsh

  My mother may be impulsive and drawn to his lifestyle, but her heart was in this guy. I didn’t want to see it get broken. Not now there was a baby involved.

  “Rourke left for football practice a few minutes ago,” he offered. “He was dropping Amelia to the King’s place on his way. You just missed them.”

  Thank god! “That’s a shame.”

  “Your mom’s staying in bed for a little while longer.” Gabe smiled knowingly as he disposed of his spoon in the sink. “Morning sickness.”

  “Oh joy.” Placing my mug in the sink, I wiped the corner of my mouth with my finger and flashed a false smile. “So. Will I do, Daddy?”

  Gabe flushed bright red. “Let’s not.”

  “What?” I feigned innocence, while enjoying making the man squirm.

  “Just stick to Gabe, okay?” he muttered before taking a sip from his mug. “And you look perfectly fine.” He frowned as I sauntered out of the kitchen, blue eyes raking over me once more in obvious disproval. “Perhaps a longer skirt?”

  “It’s the uniform,” I called out as I headed outside to my car, thankful to have scored myself a job so quickly.

  Rourke

  “WE COULD TAKE THE boat out at the end of the month. I’m tied up with work until the last week of August, but after that, I’m all yours. We could make a honeymoon out of it. What do you think?”

  “Oh, Gabe! That sounds wonderful.”

  “Anything for you, sweetheart, and besides; we haven’t had a proper honeymoon yet.”

  “But the children?”

  “Sweetheart, Rourke and Mercedes are both seventeen. Amelia’s fifteen. I would hardly call them children...”

  Slamming the front door loud enough so they would hear me coming, I stalked into the kitchen, ignoring my father and his latest squeeze as I went.

  “Hello, Rourke,” Blondie chirped out with a fake as fuck smile.

  I grunted in acknowledgment. It was the best I could do. I didn’t like Cassidy James, and her trying to be nice to me only irritated me further. Besides, she was sitting on my father’s lap; that alone was enough to make me hurl.

  “Where were you, Rourke?” Dad demanded then, wrapping an arm around his tiny wife. “It’s almost midnight.”

  “Running,” I shot back as I scoured the fridge for something to eat. My gaze landed on a cellophane wrapped plate of chicken legs. I smirked to myself as I retrieved the plate and quickly disposed of the wrapping. Our housekeeper, Fran, was good like that; she always tucked away protein crammed meals for me during training season.

  Tearing into one of the legs, I ignored my Dad when he said, “Running? At this time of night?” choosing to answer the calling of my stomach instead. It was only when he said, “I was worried about you,” that I deemed it appropriate to respond. And only then it was with a snort. Fucker wasn’t worried about me.

  Shaking my head, I walked over to the sink and picked up the last remaining chicken leg before tossing the grease stained plate inside. “Where’s Millie?”

  “Your sister’s in bed,” Dad replied. “Which is where you should be.”

  Turning to face him, I leaned against the counter and cocked a brow. “Where I should be?” Did he think I was ten years old again? The sound of a car engine outside distracted me and I glowered when I realized who said car belonged to.

  “Mercy’s home from work,” Cassidy chirped with a glimmer of relief in her eyes. “Thank god.” She turned to my dad and smiled. “I was so worried about her being out this late.”

  My brows shot up in surprise. I thought Step Mommy didn’t care about anything except my father’s money, but nope. Looked like she had a soft spot for Six.

  “I told you she’d be fine, sweetheart,” Dad said, soothing his little doll. “Although, there really is no need for Mercedes to be working. School is right around the corner. She should be spending her last few weeks of freedom enjoying herself.”

  “Try telling her that,” Cassidy shot back in a weary tone. “My daughter is ferociously stubborn, Gabe.”

  “Yeah.” Dad smirked at me. “I have a son with that same problem.”

  The door of the kitchen opened inwards then and in walked my living nightmare looking like my walking dream.

  Goddammit.

  “What’s going on?” Narrowed grey eyes landed on my face for the briefest of moments before returning to our parents. “Mom?” Dropping her backpack on a chair, Six sauntered past me, not giving me the time of day, and headed straight for the fridge. “What are you doing up so late?”

  The white t-shirt with Madame Jory’s logo and tight, black mini skirt did nothing to hide that fucking fabulous figure I knew was underneath her clothes and immediately I was burning mad at her. For being here. For being so fucking sexy. For representing a bad fucking memory…

  “I was waiting for you to get in before I went to bed,” Cassidy replied, smiling. “How did your first day go?”

  Retrieving a can of coke from the fridge, Six slammed the door shut with her hip and leaned against the fridge. “It was fine.” Snapping open the can, she took a long swig before sighing. “We were doing inventory and stock take after closing tonight so I’m a little tired.”

  Dad frowned. “Mercedes, you know you don’t have to –”

  “I want to work, Gabe,” Six shot back, casting a warning glare at my father.

  I smirked at the sight of this tiny, five feet nothing girl giving my father hell. Dad loved being in charge. His controlling nature and attention to detail were what made him such a success in the business world. A property developer, my father had made a steady fortune – on top of my mother’s already established business – throughout the United States by buying up derelict homes and apartment buildings before turning them around and selling them at a major profit. Watching Six shut him down over something as lame as a part time job in a coffee house made me ridiculously happy and, if I didn’t hate her so much, I’d be sort of proud. But then I remembered that I did hate her, and my smirk transformed into a grimace.

  “Maybe you should roll out a pay-your-own-way rule with your kids,” Six added, casting a glare in my direction. “A part-time job never killed anyone.”

  I smirked at her obvious dig.

  I had a job; getting our team to state this year. That was my fucking job, and I had a lot of guys’ futures counting on me. I might not need a scholarship, my momma had left me well provided, but Bear did, and Mason, too. Fuck, I had enough in the bank and in trust funds to sit on my ass for the rest of my life if I felt inclined. Of course, I wasn’t going to do that; I had plans on following in my momma’s steps and going for a career in architecture, but Six had a fucking nerve.

  This house was mine. That fridge she was leaning against? Mine. The bed she slept in every night? Also mine. She and her momma were in this house right now because I was under the legal age to live alone and my Dad couldn’t exactly abandon me. Not that he had much choice in the matter. Dad wouldn’t have shit without my mother and he knew it. The cars, the houses, the boat he talked about bringing Cass on? They were all funded from the property empire my mother built, not him. Dad’s fortune was tied up in me. I was the heir to her fortune; Dad just happened to be the one controlling the purse strings – my fucking purse strings.

  Yeah, I was my father’s meal ticket and he was theirs, which meant I was unintentionally funding this fucking marriage – and every one that had come before it.

  “Now that they’re both here, Gabe, we could discuss the boat trip?” Cassidy interjected, drawing me back to the present, as she looked up at my father like he hung the fucking moon.

  “Yes!” Dad turned to us and smiled. “As you both know, Cass and I haven’t had much time together since the wedding.”

  I snorted.

  So did Six.

  We both glared at each other.

  “I’ve cleared my schedule so we can take a boat trip.”

  “Boat?” Six frowned. “What boat? I’m not going on any boat
trip.”

  “Who said anything about you being invited?” I countered, unable to stop myself from snipping at her. “They don’t want you on their honeymoon, Six.”

  “Rourke!”

  “When I want your input, I’ll ask, Prick,” she shot back, grey eyes flashing with anger.

  “Mercy!”

  “Blow me.”

  “Rourke!”

  Turning her attention back to our parents, Six crossed her arms and asked, “When are you leaving?”

  “The end of the month,” Cassidy replied.

  Six’s eyes widened. “But that’s right before school starts.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve already ordered your uniform, books, and supplies. They’ll be here later this week. Everything is organized.”

  “But, Mom, I really wanted you to be here.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’re too young to go to school on your own?”

  “Because!” Six bit down on her lip and glared. “Nothing. Forget it. It’s fine.”

  “Thank you, baby,” Cass cooed. “Gabe and I really need some alone time.”

  “And for how long?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a couple of weeks.”

  “A couple of weeks?” Six cocked one of those finely shaped brows.

  I watched in confusion. Why was this bothering her? It wasn’t like Cass or Dad spent any time at home with us. Why did she care if they left or not?

  “Have you thought about your upcoming doctor’s appointments?” Six continued. “Or your morning sickness? You do realize that it could get ten times worse out on the water? Two weeks on a boat is not a good idea, Mom.”

  “There’s no need to speak to me like I’m a child,” her mother shot back, turning red. “I’m the parent here, Mercedes.”

  “Oh, you are?” Six shot back, feigning surprise. “Wow. Could have fooled me, Mom.”

  “Mercedes! Show some respect,” Dad snapped. “Don’t speak to your mother like that.”

  “Dad.” Something erupted inside of me then, something fucking strange, because I felt a burning urge to defend Six. I didn’t want to feel it, but it stung like a bitch. “Leave her alone.”

  “Stay out of this, Rourke. I don’t need your help,” Six hissed at me before turning her attention to my father. “This has nothing to do with you, Gabe.”

  “Your mother has everything to do with me and I won’t tolerate you speaking down to her under my roof, or telling her what to do a minute longer.”

  “Telling her what to do?” Six threw her head back and laughed harshly. “Oh my god. You have no clue, do you?”

  “Mercedes, please,” her mother began to interject, but Six wasn’t having it.

  Eyes locked on my father, Six growled, “You might want to advertise for the position of a nanny because when that kid comes, you’re going to need one.” She laughed harshly once more. “Because your darling wife sure as hell needs some pointers and I’m not sticking around to help. I already raised myself.” Having said that, Six shoved past me and stalked out of the kitchen.

  “She’s right, Gabe,” Cassidy sobbed. “I let her down. Mercedes had to grow up faster than any child should have to.” Hiccupping, she added, “No wonder she hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you, darling,” he soothed, wrapping his arms around his wife.

  Shaking my head, I left the room, choosing to go check on the one person in this house that deserved my time and attention. When I reached her door, I knocked twice before slipping inside. “You okay?”

  Amelia was sitting cross-legged on her bed, reading some old dog-eared paperback. “I’m fine, Rourke.” Placing the book face down on the bed, she looked up at me and smiled. “Are you?”

  Immediately, I was consumed with my guilt, and every time I looked at my sister, that guilt grew. “I’m good, Mills.” I wasn’t. Not even close. But she didn’t need to worry about my bullshit. Walking over to her bed, I sank down on the edge and exhaled heavily. “Dad’s planning a trip with Barbie. Apparently they’re leaving at the end of the month on a last-minute honeymoon.” Christ, even the word made me sick. “It’s not permanent, Mills.” I dropped my head and studied my hands. “Barbie and Six being here? I’ll fix this. I promise.”

  “Her name is Cassidy, Rourke, and I like her.” Amelia corrected, before crawling over to sit beside me. “And I like Mercy, too.”

  I stiffened. “Tell me you’re joking.” I turned and looked at my sister. Her small, heart shaped face and blue eyes, surrounded by a halo of golden hair, burned through me, making me feel worse than normal. “You don’t mean that.” How could she? How could she sit here and offer second chances? Goddamn, my baby sister was a better person than me.

  “Cass is okay, Rourke. And I really think she loves Dad,” Amelia insisted. “And Mercy? She’s about as happy to be here as you are to have her here.”

  “Good,” I snapped, jaw clenched. “Maybe she’ll take the hint and fuck off.”

  “Oh, really? And where is she supposed to go, Rourke?”

  “Anywhere that’s not here.”

  “Cassidy is the only family she has.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “It’s not their fault, Rourke,” my sister whispered. “And it’s not your fault either.” Leaning her head against my shoulder, she sighed sadly. “You need to stop blaming them and yourself for what he did. Hating them won’t change the past. It just makes life harder for you. I don’t want you to be bitter, Rourke.”

  “I can’t, Mills,” I squeezed out. It was my fault. I didn’t protect her. I took my eye off the ball and my sister paid for it in the worst kind of way. Trust had gotten me nowhere and fast. I would not make that mistake again.

  Mercedes

  I WORKED THE next four days straight at the coffee shop, learning the ropes and the million different beverages they offered. I was grateful for the extra shifts Alec had offered me. I needed a distraction from the house and everyone in it. Working at Madame Jory’s gave me a much-needed break.

  I had the day off work on Friday and I planned to spend it in my room, locked away from the bullshit family I’d been dragged into. Mom and Gabe had left early this morning with Amelia in tow. Mom had popped her head in my door first thing to let me know they were going shopping and I zoned out. I wasn’t interested in shopping and didn’t care enough to pretend to listen.

  I couldn’t seem to look at my mother these days without feeling acutely annoyed. And hanging around the house just to end up being on the receiving end of Rourke’s angry glares wasn’t exactly appealing either. I always gave as good as I got when it came to Rourke Owens, but I’d be a liar if I said he didn’t make me feel nervous. He looked at me like I was a threat; like my mere presence was causing him tremendous distress.

  It didn’t make sense and I resented my mother for bringing me into his house. It was her fault I was the sole focus of this angry, fucked up, beautiful man-child.

  Rourke wasn’t eighteen yet, but calling him a boy sounded absurd, especially considering I’d seen him shirtless and there was nothing boyish about his ripped stomach and bulging biceps.

  By lunchtime, I reluctantly gave into my stomach’s noisy protests and fell out of my bed. Trudging downstairs, I headed straight for the kitchen, ignoring the sound of the television blaring coming from the living room.

  Of course, since it was my one day off this week, Rourke would have to be hanging around the house.

  Biting down on my lip in frustration, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk and then grabbed the container of cereal on the counter. Fetching a bowl and spoon from the dishwasher, I sank down on a stool at the breakfast bar and fixed myself a huge ass bowl of cereal. I wasn’t familiar with this particular brand, but I wasn’t fussy either. The honey glazed, bean-shaped cereal tasted delicious and I scarfed them down.

  “Christ, you eat like a pig,” Rourke commented dryly, walking into the kitchen.

  Not bothering to answer his snarky jibe
, I merely flipped him the bird and continued to ‘eat like a pig’ as he had so kindly phrased it. I didn’t give two shits what Rourke Owens thought about me or my eating habits.

  Unlike him, I hadn’t been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth and caviar on my side plate. He was probably one of those people that cut their burger into bite sized pieces before eating it. Me? I was a blue-collar kind of girl with the basic knowledge of a fork, knife, and spoon and not a lot else. Stuck up prick.

  “I was joking,” Rourke shot back in an amused tone.

  “Don’t care,” I muttered between bites, eyes focused on the half-eaten bowl of cereal in front of me. “Did you want something?”

  “Not from you,” he shot back cruelly.

  “Then what do you want?” I slammed my spoon down on the counter and glared at him. Rourke’s brows rose in surprise. I didn’t care if I had shocked or surprised him. I didn’t care if I was being rude, either. “This is my only day off all week. Forgive me if I don’t want to spend it swapping shitty comments back and forth with you.”

  Rourke narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck’s gotten into you?”

  You, I wanted to scream.

  I didn’t.

  “Nothing,” I snapped, refocusing on my late breakfast. “Nothing at all.”

  “Then what’s with the tone?”

  Tone? Was he serious? I inhaled several deep breaths before attempting to answer him. “You don’t like me,” I finally said. “You’ve made that perfectly clear over the past two and half weeks. But news flash, Rourke. I don’t particularly like you either.” Glaring, I added, “My tone obviously mirrors my feelings of disgust and possible hatred, though that I’m still undetermined of.”

  Rourke smiled at me.

  Why the hell was he smiling at me?

  “You don’t hate me,” he replied with a grin.

  “Are you asking me if I hate you, or are you just adding to the already laden down list of reasons why I should?”

  His smile widened. The deep dimples in his cheeks that appeared when he smiled were beautiful. I was instantly angry with him because of it. Why did he have to be so nice to look at? Ugh.