Endgame: An Ocean Bay standalone novel

by Chloe Walsh

  Fuck.

  Amelia strolled into the kitchen and studied me with a curious expression. Unperturbed by my sister’s smirking, I continued to pace and plot. I would have to up my game if I wanted to get somewhere with Six. I would get there with her. My brain and my dick had decided it was a matter of time.

  I’d have to woo the girl.

  Fuck, I wasn’t good at wooing.

  The girls in Ocean Bay didn’t exactly play hard to get.

  I had a feeling Six wasn’t playing either. She was hard to get.

  “I heard a rumor today,” Amelia announced. She slid onto one of the bar stools at our kitchen island. I didn’t care about rumors so I didn’t respond. “Word around school is you finally finished things with Brittany.” Word traveled fast around the halls of the Academy. Again, I didn’t care enough to stop and answer. “Is it true?”

  “It is,” I replied after a pause. “It’s over. For good, this time.”

  “Good.” Amelia sighed heavily. “I’m glad.”

  I nodded, still pacing.

  “Is it because of Mercedes?”

  I stopped and swung around to face her. “What?”

  “People are talking, Rourke,” my sister said in a suddenly serious tone. “The girls on my soccer team are saying you ended things with Britt because you’re secretly seeing Mercedes.”

  “Bullshit,” I growled, unwilling to tell my sister anything. “Ignore them.”

  “They’re saying you and Mercedes have been hooking up all summer,” she added with a concerned frown. “Is it true?” She swallowed deeply and blushed. “Have you two been hooking up?”

  Yes. “No,” I lied.

  “You’re a horrible liar.” My sister looked at me with a dubious expression etched on her face. “Do you think I’m blind? Rourke, I’ve seen the way you both look at each other.”

  “Nothing is going on.”

  “Is Britt the one who cut up Mercy’s face?”

  I flinched, but didn’t reply.

  “Rourke,” Amelia said wearily. “Come on.”

  “What do you want me to say?” I demanded then, feeling a sudden pang of anger. I didn’t need to explain myself to my little sister. “For fuck’s sake, Mills.”

  “Don’t break her, Rourke,” Amelia said then, tone soft. “I have a feeling there’s more to Mercedes than she lets on. I get the distinct impression that she’s fragile.”

  “Six, fragile?” I laughed at the notion.

  “I’m serious,” Amelia urged. Hopping down from the bar stool, she walked over to where I was standing. “Mercedes isn’t some random girl you can walk away from when it goes to hell.” Amelia placed her hands on her hips and glared up at me. “Cass is having Dad’s babies; you can’t chase this one off, Rourke. You guys messing around with each other could cause a lot of problems.”

  “You’re wasting your breath on this conversation,” I shot back. “I’ve already told you there’s nothing going on.”

  “And I’ve already told you that you’re a horrible liar,” my sister replied before walking out of the kitchen.

  Amelia’s warning fell on deaf ears though. I wanted Six and I wasn’t about to change my mind. And if I was being honest, I didn’t think anything could.

  Rourke

  “HEY GUYS, IF YOU listen real careful, I think ya’ll will just about be able to hear it!” Mason announced in a serious tone to the team after football practice on Tuesday afternoon.

  Reebo, who was slouched on the bench next to me, threw his towel across the room at Mason. “The fuck you talking about, Mase?”

  Mason caught the towel midair and grinned. “The sound of Rourke’s balls dropping.”

  “Stupid shit,” Daryl, who was on my other side, muttered. “Ignore him, Rourke. The fool’s clueless.”

  Waggling his brows, Mason added, “Sissy’s got the poor fucker all frazzled.” Encouraged by the sniggers of our teammates, Mason continued to fuck with me.

  He stood up on the bench and cupped his hand to his chest. “Lord have Mercy,” he chuckled as he rolled his hips and pretended to be slapping something in front of him. It didn’t take a fucking genius to figure out what. “Girl’s got an ass like a fucking porn star.”

  The room erupted in laughter and Bear, who was getting changed beside Mason, shook his head and sighed wearily. “You ain’t real smart, are you, Mase?”

  “Aw, Rourke knows I’m only messing around.” Laughing, Mason jumped down from the bench and smirked. “It’s all good.”

  I did know he was joking around, but that wouldn’t prevent him from getting his ass kicked.

  I stood up, unsmiling, and walked across the room.

  The moment Mason’s gaze landed on mine, all humor in his eyes faded fast.

  “It was a joke, dude,” he offered, holding his hands up in retreat. “I was just screwing around.”

  I didn’t say a word as I approached. I just smiled, knowing I was about to bust this fucker’s nose.

  “Rourke,” Mase warned, taking a step back. He knew the drill by now. Mason and I had a lifelong friendship where any issues that came up were always resolved in a fight. “Chill out. It was a joke.” When he realized I wasn’t about to chill out, Mase groaned. “Aw fuck,” he choked before taking a swing at me.

  I ducked, easily dodging Mason’s fist, before rearing my head back and lunging forward. The moment my forehead connected with his nose, a loud crunching sound filled my ears.

  “God fucking dammit, Rourke,” Mason howled, staggering backwards. “That’s the third fucking time you’ve broken my nose, fucker.” Covering his face with his hands to stem the loss of blood, he mumbled. “Always the fucking nose.”

  “Make one more fucking comment about her and I’ll break your goddamn legs,” I warned him, tone low, eyes locked on my friend. “Mercy James isn’t a topic of humor or conversation for you or anyone else. You keep her name off your lips and her face out of your perverted fucking minds.” I looked around my teammates in warning. “Ya’ll got that?”

  No one said a word, making it clear to me that these fuckers got it.

  I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the changing rooms, not wanting to wait around and explain to coach why his first string tight end had a broken nose two days before game night.

  I walked through the quad towards the student parking lot with my fists clenched tightly.

  Listening to Mason talk about Six back there had been the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.

  My proposition last night had gone down like a lead balloon and Six had been avoiding me like the plague ever since.

  School sucked ass today, mostly because Six wasn’t talking to me. She just walked through the hallways with her nose cocked up in the air, ignoring the hell out of me.

  I’d been watching her from a distance at school all day and it was driving me bat shit crazy. What was pushing me closer to the edge was having to watch the guys at school ogle her and watch her every move when she walked past. I personally wanted to kick the shit out of every guy that looked in her direction.

  Nothing was calming me.

  Absolutely nothing.

  No amount of running or training helped. I was burning inside. Bristling with this unyielding thrum of energy buzzing inside of me.

  Everywhere I went today, I either saw her or heard someone talking about her.

  Yeah, Six was big news around the school – I’d known she would be. You didn’t look like her and go under the radar. Not that she seemed to give a damn about any of the attention. I liked that about her. She was completely unfazed by how she affected the guys around her. it was as if she didn’t care.

  Maybe she didn’t.

  Maybe she was used to it.

  Had to be.

  I thought about Mason and Daryl and how easy it was for them. They could promise a girl whatever she wanted to hear and not give a damn about the consequences or the aftermath.

  Why couldn’t I be like that?

  Becau
se I read too much into shit.

  No, I read too damn much into my mother’s fucking letters.

  Promise me, Rourke, that you’ll never intentionally hurt a girl.

  Always tell the truth, my boy, it’s much easier to remember.

  Following your heart’s desire is a beautiful thing,

  but don’t leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake.

  You’re better than that. I’m writing this down because

  I’m not going to be around to tell you this when you come of age...

  Stupid fucking words on a stupid fucking journal.

  Words I followed.

  Yeah, I was a prick and probably a million other things, but I didn’t lie to girls. I told the truth to my fucking detriment. But it was times like these that it would be so much easier to lie.

  It wasn’t like I was short on offers.

  If I wanted sex, I could have it.

  But I didn’t just want sex. I wanted it with Six. I wanted a lot with her.

  Dammit.

  She had some fucked up hold over me. I didn’t like it, feeling out of control, but I was also sort of hooked on the fantastic fucking way she made me feel. That buzzing feeling I got when I was around her was addictive as fuck. One look from her and I was undone. I honest to god felt like I had been sucker punched in the chest whenever she looked up at me with those big silver eyes.

  And when she gave me shit?

  It was so fucking hot.

  I didn’t understand any of this, either. I couldn’t make one bit of sense of my feelings or actions. I only knew that I had to have her…

  “You staking claim on her now?” I heard Mason calling out in the parking lot. Seconds later, he was by my side. “Mercedes,” he confirmed with an impish grin. “She yours now?”

  “She sure as shit ain’t yours,” I shot back with a growl as I stalked to my truck. I needed to get out of here. I felt agitated and unpredictable. Bad fucking combination.

  “You serious about her?” he asked, holding a bunch of blood soaked tissues to his nose.

  “Not your business, Mase.” Unlocking my truck, I tossed my bag in the back seat before rounding the truck. “You should go ice that,” I added before opening the driver’s side door.

  “Thought so,” Mase replied with a knowing smile. “Knew you wouldn’t put that mess with Britt to bed if you weren’t hung up on another girl.”

  “I’m not hung up on anyone,” I shot back, lying through my fucking teeth. “I’m…”

  “You’re what?” Mase asked, grinning when I didn’t finish my sentence.

  Ruined. I’m fucking ruined. “I’m leaving,” I muttered before slamming my door shut and cranking the engine.

  Mercedes

  “HOW WAS SCHOOL TODAY, Mercy?” Amelia asked me the moment I got home from work on Tuesday night. She was sitting at the breakfast bar, looking intently at me. Her blonde hair framed her face like a halo of gold, making her look much younger than what she was.

  “It was fine,” I told her. “I didn’t see you anywhere though.” I thought that was pretty weird. Amelia was a sophomore. In any of my old schools, I would bump into kids from different grades all day long. But then again, Ocean Bay Academy was the first private school I had ever stepped foot inside. Maybe it was different here.

  “Our lunch schedule is different to the seniors,” she informed me with an easy smile. “And most of my classes take place in the west wing of the school.”

  “The west wing?” I raised a brow. “How many wings are there?”

  “A lot,” she chuckled. “The Academy is pretty big.” Understatement of the century. “You know, if you joined the girls soccer team, we would see more of each other.”

  “Pass.” I fought back a shudder. “I’m not into sports.”

  She looked at me in surprise. “Any sports?”

  Does eating count as a sport? “Not a one.”

  “Oh.” Amelia looked at me with a thoughtful expression.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” she was quick to reply, a little red faced. “I was just thinking about something.”

  “Care to share?”

  “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Now I really want to know.”

  “I was just remembering something I heard at soccer practice today,” she told me with a sheepish expression. “Something a few of the girls were saying about you and um… Rourke.”

  Now I was the one to blush.

  “What about me and Rourke?”

  Amelia stared at me, her expression unreadable. “Some of the girls at school seem to be under the impression that you and Rourke are…a thing.”

  “A thing?” I paled and quickly shook my head. “Why would anyone think that?”

  “Because Rourke finally ended things with Brittany Beckitt yesterday,” Amelia supplied, intelligent blue eyes scanning my face. “For good, this time. And according to Sami Davidson – a senior on the cheerleading team – Britt went ballistic.”

  He did?

  Rourke really ended his screwed-up relationship with Britt – the girl he liked to fuck?

  Ugh.

  “What does any of that have to do with me?” I asked with a shaky voice. My palms were sweating, my heart racing erratically in my chest.

  Why was I nervous? I didn’t need to feel nervous.

  In fact, I shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.

  Not about Rourke freaking Owens.

  You see, I had a new resolve; do not succumb to my stepbrother’s charms.

  Rourke could prance around the house half naked all he wanted. He could wink and flirt with me, and brush against my body with his to his heart’s content.

  It wouldn’t affect me.

  I wouldn’t allow it to.

  Not since the words “I’m offering to fuck you,” came out of his mouth last night.

  Whatever lunacy that had possessed me these last six weeks had taken a back seat to common sense. The desires and urges I felt towards Rourke were now repressed and safely locked away in my brain somewhere, in a big box with the words don’t touch, he’ll fuck you up scrawled over it.

  Amelia raised her brows and gave me a ‘don’t treat me like I’m stupid’ expression. “I’m not blind, Mercy,” she said with a small frown. “I don’t know what it is, but there is definitely something happening between you and my brother.”

  “There really isn’t,” I lied, feeling the burn all the way down to my toes. “Anything between us, I mean.”

  “I know how Rourke presents himself to the world,” Amelia continued like I hadn’t spoken. “A foulmouthed asshole who doesn’t give a damn about anyone, but it’s not true. Don’t believe the act. Look beyond it. There’s a broken boy screaming out to be loved underneath that hard exterior. You just have to scratch at the surface.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I see something between you two,” she replied honestly. “A connection.”

  Thankfully, I didn’t have to respond to her statement because Rourke chose this exact moment to saunter into the kitchen in nothing but a pair of navy sweatpants.

  Immediately, my traitorous heart decided to jackhammer in my chest; the sight of my stepbrother the cause of my body’s violent reaction.

  “Mills,” Rourke acknowledged with a nod before turning to wink at me. “Six.”

  “Rourke,” Amelia replied evenly.

  “Did Fran leave anything for dinner?” he asked as he padded over to the oven and peeked inside. “I’m fucking starving.”

  “What the hell happened to you?” Amelia demanded before I could. Both of us were gaping at the bruising on the left side of Rourke’s body.

  Rourke looked from her to me before shrugging. “Got my ass kicked at practice this morning.”

  “You got your ass kicked?” Amelia asked incredulously.

  “It happens.” Closing the oven door, he moved towards the fridge, obviously unaffected by the look of horror on both
of our faces. “Fuck yeah,” he muttered happily. “Quiche.”

  “Not to you, Rourke,” she was quick to point out. “You never take hits like that.”

  I remained silent, watching Rourke as he grabbed a fork from the drawer and quickly shoveled mouthfuls of quiche into his mouth.

  God, he was so freaking sexy even when he was wounded.

  Actually, the bruises only added to his sex appeal.

  There was something primal about this boy…

  “You want a piece of the quiche or a piece of me, Six?” Rourke asked with a double dimpled grin. “You’re staring real hard, girl.”

  The dimples, I decided, must have come from Rourke’s mother. Neither Gabe nor Amelia sported a single one.

  Mortified, I cleared my thoughts and flashed Rourke a glare. “Neither.”

  “You sure you don’t wanna try a bite?” he shot back with a wolfish grin, holding out his fork towards me. “You never know; you might like it. You might even think it’s the best you’ve ever had.”

  “Ugh.” Amelia cleared her throat loudly. “You’re so gross, Rourke.”

  “I know I won’t,” I shot back firmly, forcing my features to remain impassive, while inside I was burning up. “I’m very selective in the quiches I taste.” Smiling sweetly, I added, “I’m sure yours tastes just the same as every other quiche in the world.”

  Rourke smiled darkly in challenge. “Why don’t you come over here and check for yourself?”

  “I…uh…have a lot of homework to do,” I blurted out, retreating from the kitchen, my face a deep burgundy color. I needed to get away from this guy. His mood swings were too much for me to handle. And he was too damn tempting!

  Rourke threw his head back and laughed. “Rourke Jr. waiting for you upstairs?” Asshole. “Well, you know where I am if you get hungry.”

  That bastard!

  “Thanks,” I sneered. “But I’d rather starve.”

  Rourke

  “WHAT THE HELL ARE you playing at?” Six demanded, storming into my bedroom an hour later. Normally, I would have been mad as hell at anyone walking into my bedroom without knocking, but weirdly, I didn’t have a problem with this girl busting in on me.