The Resurrection of Us: A High School Bully Romance (Albany Nightingale Duet Book 2)

by Rachel M Raithby

  Turning on my heel, I march away, slamming my bedroom door between us, the sound vibrating through the walls as my mother replies, “You’ll go to that masquerade with him, or you will find yourself cut off. No more shopping, no more parties and late-night drinking. We will see how long you last as queen without a penny to your name.”

  I scream, pulling at my dress, trying desperately to reach the zip at my back to get the god-awful thing off me. Successfully managing to move it a few inches, I drag it off my shoulders, pulling violently at the neck until I hear a rip and it’s finally is wide enough to push over my hips to the floor.

  Stepping out of it, I pace the room, breath ragged, fists clenched. I can’t do it. I can’t play this game anymore.

  Pausing as I pace my dresser, my father’s letter catches my eye. Longing and pain expand my chest to the point that I cannot breathe, and I slump to the carpet and let the walls around my heart crumble and shatter.

  She’s hung a noose around my neck. Given me no choice but to obey.

  Climbing robotically to my feet, I find a pen and some paper and sit at my desk, pouring my heart out as I write to my father. I tell him everything—from my manipulating mother, to the heavy crown upon my head. My broken heart and desperate longing, my confusion over Grayson. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. I need someone out there to share the knowledge, to share in the suffering I’ve brought upon myself. He might be ashamed, upset even as he reads the things I have done, but he’s my father and if I can love him even as he resides in prison, he too should love me, even with the black marks to my name.

  Slipping into bed that night, I’m numb, empty, as if my mother’s actions have carved out my heart leaving me hollow, but as my phone chimes with a message, I’m reminded my broken parts can still feel hope.

  Ashton – I miss you, Rose xo

  I don’t reply, because anything I say will hurt us both more. We might miss and long for each other, but we can’t be together. Yet there is someone out their thinking of me. Wanting me and it’s enough to see me through. Falling to sleep, a smile warms my heart and his face lingers in my mind.

  It turns out I’m not alone.

  ***

  Waking and dressing early the next day, I escape the apartment before my mother has risen, and walk in Central Park to do something I haven’t done since I was here at age thirteen.

  The camera in my hand is the one I bought on the summer I spent with my grandparents—the summer I met Ashton. I used it often after I’d returned from Manhattan, but somewhere along the years, photography took a backstep to make way for climbing the social ladder. But when I woke this morning, I longed to pick it up and look at the world through a lens. To find beauty in the ordinary.

  It takes me awhile to relax into it. I’m awkward and uncomfortable, as if I’ve put on an old coat that doesn’t quite fit anymore. Yet as I take picture after picture, filling the SD card with various snapshots—the glint of dew on grass, birds in trees, dying leaves on the ground, the arch of a bridge, the reflection of the sky on water, and random people wandering central park—I find the pressure on my chest lifting. I find the coat does still fit and this feeling, the art of finding “interesting” amongst the everyday, of capturing a moment to remind me that in that heartbeat, the world was perfect, is going to be my saving grace.

  “Rose?”

  Turning, still looking though my lens, I find Ashton on the dirt track I’d wandered off to capture the way the light was shining through the trees. Sweat gleans on his skin, earbuds hang in his ears, attached to the iPod strapped to his arm as he bends over to catch his breath. Walking over, my finger clicks away, capturing a view I could never tire of.

  “I haven’t seen you with that thing since we first met,” he says as he straightens. A smile plays on his lips, his eyes turning amused as I take a few more shots. “Have you finished?” He arches a brow.

  Laughing, I drop the camera from my face. “You never did like my taking your picture, yet they are my favorite pictures from that summer.”

  “Do you still have them?” he asks. I bite my lip, feeling my cheeks heat. “You do, don’t you.” He laughs. “To be fair, I kept the pictures of you that you gave me too.”

  A smile breaks out over my face. “So, you jog?”

  “I run,” he corrects, as if I’ve offended him. “Playing football requires me to keep fit.”

  As the words leave his mouth, my eyes can’t help but roam the body that has so benefited from the exercise. Muscles lean and sculptured cover him, and while sweat rolls down his face and dampens his hair, I find my mouth going dry, fantasizing about licking his golden skin.

  “My face is here, Rose,” Ashton interrupts with a laugh.

  “Sorry,” I mumble.

  The smirk on his face tells me he wasn’t overly bothered about my ogling. “What brings you out so early? Or have you been doing this the whole time?”

  “I kinda gave it up after our summer,” I say. “But this morning, I had the burning desire to pick it up and start again.”

  “I take it last night didn’t go so well?” His face shuts down, words becoming gruff.

  “Declan said sorry actually, but then I somehow got coerced into agreeing to be his date to the masquerade ball.”

  Rage flares his nostrils. “Tell Declan to fuck off. Better yet, I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

  I don’t answer right away; instead, I take a few seconds to imagine I live in a world where Ash can do just that and we can finally close the last few feet hovering between us. But then my mother’s parting words echo in my mind, reminding me this queen doesn’t get her fairy tale.

  “You can’t. My mother’s threatened to cut me off if I don’t follow through.”

  Silence falls between us as Ashton’s stance turns rigid before he eventually curses under his breath and runs a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “It’s just money, Rose.”

  “Says the guy who’s blackmailing his stepfather in his mother’s divorce.”

  “That’s different,” Ashton argues. “You’ll still have a roof over your head and your tuition paid for, and what I’m doing is for more than money.”

  Studying him, self-loathing fills the empty space my mother made inside me. Am I being shallow? Holding onto the superficial things that don’t matter?

  “And when Pen and the girls ask me to go shopping? Or I turn up to the latest party in last week’s dress? Yes, clothes and dresses don’t really matter, but they do if I’m to stay where I am.”

  “Is the crown that important?” he asks quietly.

  “I gave up a lot of things for that crown, Ash. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, but if my other choice is to go back and be that girl Sophia made me, then yes, the crown is important.”

  “It won’t be like that this time. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Closing the space between us, I cup his face, wishing his words were true. His arms come around me, and with a sigh, I nestle my head to his chest. If only a camera could capture this moment, hold the relief and peace being in his arms gives me so that I could go back to the photograph time and time again to relive it. But there are some things in life not even a photo can immortalize, and as much as we want each other, fate seems to keep throwing more things in our way.

  “How long do you think it will be before Sophia tries to reclaim what I stole, or someone else sees an opportunity to strike? You don’t hold that much power, Ash.”

  “We have Grayson on our side too.”

  I smile. Does the dark prince hold that much power…? Not anymore. I made sure of that. “After his father’s deeds, I don’t think Gray holds as much sway as you might think. It’s just a couple of weeks. I’m pretty certain Declan knows I’m not a fan of the idea.”

  “But I miss you, Rose,” he says, holding me tighter.

  Stepping from Ashton’s hold, I meet his haunted eyes. “Then you’ll miss me a little longer. There’s nothing stopping us from being friends.”

&n
bsp; His gaze tips to the sky, returning to me a moment later. “Play the game. Act your part.” He repeats his words from the previous day. “But remember, the crown is upon your head and not even your mother gets to tell you exactly what to do.” Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss to my forehead. “Don’t give away too much of yourself, Rose. You’re worth too much for that.”

  He jogs away, leaving his words floating in the air around me. I watch him until he’s a dot in the distance and then, lifting my camera, I hold it over my face and search through the lens for more beauty. But even a lens can’t alter the reality of my life. And the only beauty I want is running away in the opposite direction.

  Chapter 30

  Grayson

  After the final class of the day, I pull up my phone to find I’ve a missed call from my investigator, Dickson. At one time in my life, I relied on my father to fix my problems, but as I grew older, I realized for every problem he fixed, I owed him double what he’d given me. It took a while to find someone who’d find information I needed and stay loyal to me. The first two ended up more loyal to my father, but the thing with powerful men is there’s always a line of people waiting in the wings for a chance to stab them in the back. Derrick Dickson is one of those people. Dickson is my man and he’ll never be bought.

  Calling him back, I speak as soon as he answers, “Tell me you have something?” I’d expected him to come back to me sooner with some dirt to bribe Declan away from Rose—the guy just rubs me the wrong way and usually it’s because they’ve got skeletons in their closest worse than mine.

  “I do. Took some digging though. This was buried deep never to see the light of day again,” he answers in his gruff tone.

  “Excellent, the good stuff is always buried deep.” I’m already picturing Declan’s moronic face as I deliver my blow.

  “In this case, I’m not sure you’re going to be happy, Grayson,” Dickson tells me.

  My stomach drops, and walking out of the school doors, I step to the side away from the flow of students heading out. “What’s he done?”

  “Raped someone, start of his sophomore year.”

  “Fuck. Who was it?” My gaze scans the crowds of students leaving Albany, wondering if one of the girls is Declan’s first victim.

  “Alisha Barrett. Declan’s parents made it go away. She dropped the charges before it even got anywhere. The evidence was flimsy, and Declan had a witness willing to back him up and say he wasn’t anywhere near the girl at the time of the incident.”

  Alisha Barrett, Alisha, Alisha…. Her name rattles around in my brain as if repeating it might suddenly draw her face from the back of my mind, but I don’t know her. She’s not in with the royal crowd; therefore, not important enough to remember. I instantly feel like a prick.

  “Does she go to Albany?”

  “No, she moved states and now attends an all-girls school,” Dickson explains. Well, at least that’s a good enough excuse for not knowing her. “Shall I send everything I have to the penthouse?”

  “Yes, and thanks, Dickson.” I’m already moving, searching for Rose.

  “No problem. I’ll send my bill with the info.”

  I register his words absently. “Yeah, listen I’ve got to go.” I end the call before he has chance to utter goodbye. Rose has just walked through the gates onto the street, heading for the car that will take her home.

  Pushing my way toward her, I hit the street and jog to catch up, putting my hand on her door to stop her from closing it and slipping quickly onto the leather seat beside her.

  “Gray,” she gasps, hand pressing to her chest. “What the hell?”

  “Sorry, but we need to talk,” I explain, looking toward her driver and saying, “You can drive now.”

  The driver hesitates, gaze flickering between us in the rearview mirror before Rose sighs and instructs him to go.

  “What’s going on, Gray?” She leans her head back onto the seat and closes her eyes. She looks tired, drained. I’ve been avoiding her because being around her causes feelings to stir in the chambers of my long-ago dead heart.

  If it wasn’t for my stepbrother, I might explore where they’d take me, really spend the time to analyze the strange, wonderful flutters, but I do have a stepbrother, and the girl who happens to cause my heart to beat again is in love with him. Even if she still insists on carrying on with the insane façade she has with Declan Moor.

  It’s been a week since she went to dinner at Declan’s house, a week since she said it would be over, yet the asshole is still circling her like a vulture. I’ve asked Ashton about it, but he wasn’t in much of a mood to explain.

  “This Declan farce ends today,” I demand, which probably isn’t the best way to start the conversation as anger flares over her features making her even sexier.

  “I’m sorry, I forgot I took orders from you,” she bites back, pulling a devilish smile from me. “And you can wipe that smile from your face, Grayson Bishop. I’m not falling for your bad-boy charm anymore.”

  “But you were falling for it though?” I wink.

  Her eyes close for a beat, then two, before her lids lift, revealing reluctant amusement. “I’ve missed you, Gray.” She laughs.

  Slipping an arm around her shoulder, I pull her close. “Missed you too.”

  “Why have you been avoiding me?” she asks.

  “I’d rather not get into that. Plus, watching that dipshit with you was going to drive me to violence.”

  Her head falls to my shoulder. “I’m tired of arguing with Ash over this. Don’t you start too. Can’t you just be my friend without giving me your opinions?”

  Friend… I both love and hate that word. “He’s dangerous, Rose. I had my guy do some digging.”

  “Your guy.” She shakes her head. “Sometimes you sound like a mafia fixer or something. We’re high school juniors, Gray. We shouldn’t have guys.”

  “Shut up and listen,” I grumble. “Declan raped someone, Rose. You need to stay away from him.”

  “What?” She pulls away from me and twists in her seat to fully face me. “Who, when?”

  “Beginning of sophomore year. Her name was Alisha. She’s moved away now. The charges were dropped, then buried.”

  Slumping back in her seat, Rose runs a hand over her face. “That’s messed up. What am I going to do now?” she asks, her tone empty, detached.

  “Tell him what you know and threaten to leak it around school if he doesn’t back the fuck off.”

  “And my mother? What am I supposed to do about her?”

  “What about her?” I ask.

  “Hasn’t Ashton told you? She’s threatening to cut me off unless I go to this bloody ball with him.”

  A sound slips from my throat very much like a growl. Rose’s mother and my father are cut from the same cloth. “Tell her what you know. Surely she’ll change her mind then?”

  Tipping her head to the side, she studies me. “Honestly, Grayson, I don’t think she will. She’s so hell-bent on getting out from under my grandfather’s control that she’s willing to do anything to complete this event and solidify her name as Manhattan’s top event planner.”

  The car comes to a stop outside of her building, but neither of us make a move to climb out.

  “I don’t like this, Rose.”

  “Neither do I, but it’s only a little over a week, and then I’ll be free of the obligation anyway.”

  “A lot can happen in that time.”

  She shrugs, her expression sad. “I’ll make sure I’m not alone with him. Quit drinking when he’s around. There’s a party at Camilla’s Saturday, but I’ll just be vigilant.”

  “Ashton and I will be at the party. We’ll make sure he doesn’t touch you,” I grind out, hating the predicament we’ve found ourselves in.

  She smiles, strained. “See, I’ll be fine. With two bodyguards, nothing can go wrong, but just remember, if he kisses me in public, you’re not allowed to kill him.”

  “It will be Ashton who k
ills him,” I reply, reminding myself she’s his, not mine.

  “I’m not sure he’s too happy with me at the moment,” she admits. “He’s avoiding me too.”

  “Can you blame him?”

  Features hardening, Rose crosses her arms. “Gray, I watched him with Sophia while he gave me crumbs of himself on the sidelines. He can learn to deal.”

  “Good point.” I shrug.

  “Are you coming up?” she asks, hope sparking in her baby blues.

  I shouldn’t… and yet. “Sure, why not.”

  Getting out first, I hold out my hand for her and she takes it, allowing me to pull her to her feet, but we only get two steps before my father’s voice severs our connection.

  “Get in, Grayson. We need to talk.”

  I eye his car, anger finding its way to the surface. “You followed me?”

  “I’d planned on talking to you outside of school, but then you inconveniently jumped into a car with her.”

  The way he says her has my hackles raising. “Get lost, Arthur, I have nothing to say to you.”

  He bristles at the use of his name instead of Father, and then Rose is slipping her small hand back into mine and tugging me toward her. “Come on, Gray,” she murmurs. We turn together, heading for the door of her building.

  “How far you have fallen, son? Allowing a woman to control you, but you know I won’t stop following you until I’ve said what I have to say, so why don’t we quit the games and get it over and done with?”

  I pause; he’s right. Arthur Bishop always gets his way.

  “Ignore him,” Rose whispers.

  “I can’t,” I answer. Leaning down, I press a kiss to her cheek. “Be careful, okay. I’ll message you later.”

  “Okay, bye, Grayson.”

  “Good choice,” my father says as I step away from Rose and head for his car.

  “Say what you have to say, but I can guarantee I won’t be listening.” He disappears back into his car and I follow him, closing the door and locking myself inside the confines of his limousine. “So, what threats do you have for me today?”