Wicked Promises: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Fallen Royals Book 3)

by S. Massery

  “I’ve seen your reckless tendencies. I don’t even want to know what that’d be like with you behind the wheel,” she says, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s teasing.

  Lenora.

  Teasing.

  Who would’ve thought?

  I cough over my laugh. “I wouldn’t be that bad.”

  “You sure?”

  She giggles, and it breaks the dam. I laugh, too. We both howl with laughter, clutching our stomachs. Tears—happy ones, I think—stream down my face. My abs hurt by the time we finally stop.

  “Oh god,” I say, the happiness draining away like someone just pulled the plug on it. “We’re laughing while—”

  “Stop right there,” she says, reaching out and taking my hands.

  For the first time, probably ever, I hold her hands back.

  “We’re allowed to laugh. He’d probably be happy we weren’t crying without cause.”

  “But…” He could still die. It’s late, almost six o’clock. That alone shocks me, since I got here so early in the day.

  Hours or minutes. Time swung away from me when I wasn’t paying attention.

  I lost a whole day to this limbo.

  I’m still contemplating that when Riley appears, breathless. She looks between Lenora and me. We must be quite the sight—red-faced and winded ourselves—but she doesn’t comment. She beelines for me and squeezes the daylights out of me.

  I grasp at her back, letting the rib-crunching hug put me back together.

  “I came as soon as I could. Caleb is on his way, too. He wouldn’t let me leave without interrogating me. Are you okay?”

  “Um…”

  “Sorry, stupid question.” She releases me, then gives Lenora a hug. “Anything I can do for you? What’s going on?”

  “Robert had to be rushed into surgery,” Lenora says. “We’ve been waiting…”

  Riley nods. “Got it.”

  I grab her hand. “I don’t think Caleb should be here.”

  She blinks at me. “Um, why?”

  “I just…”

  Lenora smiles. “You’re avoiding him, huh?”

  “Looks like I’m getting my dose of therapy in today, anyway,” I say under my breath. To my foster mom, I add, “Yes. Unequivocally.”

  “Because he rescued you from Matt?” Riley asks, scowling. “I mean, what’d he do that was wrong?”

  “I’ve been hurting everyone.” I shake my head. “He got arrested because of me. Did you miss that part?”

  “They just held him,” Riley says. “And if you ask me—which I know you didn’t, but you should because I’m your best friend and I love you—he makes you happier. When you’re both not brooding, that is.”

  Lenora snorts.

  “So, I guess you can call him up and tell him not to come…” Riley waves her phone at me.

  I sigh. There’s no way he’d listen to me.

  “Exactly.” She’s smug.

  I’ll just have to escape before he gets here.

  14

  Caleb

  I cast one look at Margo’s window before we get down the street. She wasn’t awake when we were getting ready for school, but I had hoped she would come down…

  “Lovesick, dude.” Eli laughs. “I’ve never seen it so bad.”

  “I’m not…” Lovesick. It would explain why my chest doesn’t feel quite right. Missing pieces and all that.

  “Whatever. Hey, try not to give everyone hell at school.”

  I set my jaw. “I won’t if they don’t fucking say anything about Margo.”

  It’s my first day back. From eavesdropping on Eli’s parents this morning, I know Margo has a full plate herself: going to see Robert and then therapy. She didn’t seem too pleased at the idea of talking to a stranger, and I don’t blame her.

  “Get through it and then lacrosse practice—”

  “Fuck.” I groan. “Coach is gonna ream me out for getting arrested.”

  Eli shrugs. “Probably.”

  Coach Marzden wins the jackass of the year competition every time. When we were freshmen, we admired the way he commanded a room.

  He was a role model for both of us.

  However, it appears that even role models have a temper.

  “Riley didn’t come over,” I say. “Last night? Would’ve thought she’d be like glue on Margo’s skin.”

  He frowns. “She’s avoiding the house.”

  “Why?” That’s not like her. Once Eli got her in his clutches, she seemed into it. But maybe something happened.

  “This isn’t a fucking psychobabble session,” Eli snaps.

  I don’t comment, and we hurry into the school.

  “Smells like snow.” I scan the hallway automatically. No one’s this close to the doors, but it’s habit to search for Margo. Even though I know exactly where I left her.

  Or, where she left me.

  “That’ll just make for a more miserable lacrosse practice, if you ask me—”

  Coach appears at the top of the hallway, glaring at us and silencing Eli.

  “Shit,” he mutters. “I’m out. I’m gonna…” He ducks down a random hallway, leaving me to travel toward Coach on my own.

  Anger rolls off Coach in waves. He’s practically vibrating with it.

  When I reach him, he turns and walks away. I follow him, staying a few steps behind. He’ll probably start the berating before we reach his office, just so some kids can hear that the great and terrible Caleb Asher has finally fallen.

  Newsflash, I want to yell at them. It takes a lot more than one stalker to dethrone me.

  Yet… I’m definitely losing my grip.

  “In,” Coach orders, holding the door open.

  I sigh, then go to my usual chair in front of his desk.

  “Did I fucking say you could sit?”

  I sprawl in it, forcing my body to relax. This isn’t like a meeting with my uncle, where it could end with a glass thrown at my head. Coach may threaten and bluster, but he wouldn’t even go so far as to remove me from the team. He just needs to yell.

  It gives him some control he craves.

  Then again, I like to fuck with control.

  So I stay sprawled and watch him out of the corner of my eye. He circles around his desk and drops into his own chair.

  “Really made a goddamn mess of everything,” he says. “Arrested. Arrested. What am I supposed to do with that? Let a felon stay on the team?”

  “I’m sure Mr. Black would be happy to explain the difference between being read my rights and being held as a person of interest,” I say dryly. “Oh, wait, you should know. Didn’t you major in pre-law? Before your life fell to shit.”

  He glares at me.

  Coach, the original golden boy of Emery-Rose Elite, is as much of a walking disaster as I am. He just hides it better.

  “Is that what you think?”

  I shrug.

  “You’re a fool.” He rubs at his eyes. “Honestly, Caleb. We all make choices. My life didn’t fall to shit. It just changed.”

  “And you weren’t angry about it?”

  He sits back. “I was at the time. Now, not so much.”

  He’s a self-proclaimed bachelor with a well-hidden thirteen-year-old daughter.

  “What’s your plan, son? You going to put this on your college applications?”

  I grit my teeth. “Does it matter? I need to get into any shitty old school. Dad—”

  “Dear pops.” Coach laughs. “Yeah, left you a fuckton of money. Buy your way into any old school and tell me how it feels.”

  I smile. “I’ll tell you exactly how it feels, Coach. Happily.”

  The bell rings, and I stand. I’ll be late to first period if I linger any longer, and I know a certain someone is counting on me to bring her schoolwork back.

  “Sit,” Coach growls.

  My smile falls away. “Why?”

  “Because we have a visitor.” And then… he smiles.

  The door opens.

 
; My uncle fills the doorway, looking down his nose at me.

  Subsequently, he blocks all the escape routes, too.

  He closes the door behind him and takes his sweet time removing his coat, hanging it on the coat tree in the corner. And then he reaches over and shakes Coach’s hand.

  He doesn’t so much as glance my way when he sits, slinging one leg over the other.

  I have to admire the way he takes over a room. Dad would be proud.

  “So, Caleb, I have to hear through social media that my nephew was held in a jail cell for two days?” His fingers twitch, like he really wants to hit me.

  At least here, he can’t. Coach wouldn’t let him.

  I resist the urge to touch the back of my head, which has finally closed up. The bruises have mostly faded, too. Time heals most things, but it hasn’t healed his sick head.

  “You’re keeping me from class for this?” I ask Coach.

  “I was the one who requested the meeting,” Uncle says. He adjusts his tie.

  Looks like he’s going into the office for once. Crisp white shirt, a navy-blue tie and sports coat. He’s the picture of perfection, and just as deadly.

  “Why?” I’m immediately wary of his plan. Because I’m sure there is a plan hidden in there.

  “I’ve come to request Coach remove you from the lacrosse team.”

  Silence.

  My jaw drops open, and Coach… well, to his credit, seems equally flabbergasted.

  I snap my mouth closed at the same time that Coach seems to shake off his surprise. He straightens in his seat, eyes narrowing at my uncle.

  Well, this should be interesting.

  “I hate to tell you this, David, but you can’t come in here and demand—”

  “Request,” Uncle interrupts. “Very politely. You see, I think lacrosse is a bad influence on Caleb. He’s following in your footsteps, after all.”

  “How’s that?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  Uncle glances at me. “Falling for a girl, acting ludicrously… it’s only a matter of time before the girl turns up pregnant and ruins everything the Ashers have worked toward.”

  “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Dad ruined everything he worked for when he sold the company. Right? Your name isn’t on the door, even.”

  Uncle’s hand twitches. If we were home…

  Well, I’ll pay for this later.

  Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, Dad whispers in my ear. Besides the points of inexplicable rage, he was actually a good dad. He taught me some valuable lessons before he was taken from us. Did I fear him?

  A decent amount. Especially at ten.

  Did he hit me?

  No worse than Uncle… and there was always a reprieve, where good things happened. It was almost better when he hit me and got it over with, because the following week was bliss.

  Uncle has no such calm period after the storm. With him, the storm is always raging.

  “You are under my supervision,” Uncle snaps. “And I think—”

  “Well, technically, the Blacks were awarded guardianship in court,” Coach says. His eyes go back and forth between Uncle and me, and…

  My stomach flips.

  Does he see what a monster my uncle actually is?

  Worse than I’ve ever been. Worse than how Coach has ever acted.

  “They sign all of Caleb’s permission slips and are his emergency contact. Have been since…” Coach shrugs, but his eyes are gleaming. “Well, I suppose you know the catalyst of that decision better than most, right, David?”

  Uncle leaps to his feet, his face turning a mottled red. “I will not be outdone!”

  He storms out of the room.

  A sick feeling coils in my gut.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Coach demands.

  I stare at him. “I thought you knew.”

  For a while, Uncle’s abuse was a rumor that flew over Emery-Rose like a flash fire. Everyone was talking about poor little Caleb. I had bruises and a cracked rib at fourteen years old. I’d already been living with the Blacks for a while, but it didn’t matter.

  Uncle picked me up from school one day. He had discovered my adventures all over the county.

  And honestly, as much as I don’t want to admit it, that day is branded in my memory.

  Past

  Uncle David waited for me at the curb. It was the first week of school at Emery-Rose Elite. The high school version of it anyway. I was expecting to go home with Eli and his parents, but they were nowhere to be found.

  “In,” he ordered.

  I slowly climbed into his car. The door shut, and I just knew it was sealing my fate. He had a vicious temper, and I knew exactly what he had managed to find out.

  He was quiet. He didn’t drive away, not yet. He wouldn’t until he’d said his piece. But right now, the silence was thick and cloying.

  “Another home,” he finally said. His fist lashed out, connecting with my mouth.

  It surprised the hell out of me, but it also hurt.

  Blood filled my mouth.

  “You think we don’t keep track of Ms. Wolfe?” he taunted. “Don’t know every fucking move she makes?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  He hit me again, and the blood sprayed out of my mouth. My whole body whipped toward the window. He grabbed my shirt collar, bringing me back toward him.

  There was a dangerous look in his eye. Mostly crazy, but also… calculating.

  “Because of the social worker?” I asked.

  He released me.

  I slumped against the door, watching him warily.

  “You piece that together on your own, hmm?” he asked. His mouth made a straight line. “Smart boy. Maybe you’ll be smarter and leave the girl alone. Someone is bound to get suspicious, and Ms. DeVine said she can’t keep covering for you.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” I laughed to myself. “Her name is literally divine.”

  Uncle fisted my collar again, pulling me forward and slamming me back. My head hit the blood-streaked glass, and white spots popped like fireworks in front of my vision.

  “You’re going to cut the shit,” he ordered.

  “Dear Uncle,” I said, biting back a groan. “I’m just doing what you drilled into me.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Hating her,” I sighed. “Hating her so fucking much, she can’t be happy.”

  He reached around me, opening the car door. I fell backward, my back hitting the curb. Pain lanced through my torso, and a moan escaped me. Everything was flickering between numb and pain.

  I picked myself up in time for him to chuck my book bag through the open door.

  Then… he left.

  And me? I was found by Norah Black. I had a loose tooth and split lip. Bruising across my jaw. A cracked rib. Fixable things.

  Minor things.

  I refused to say what happened. We’d already been over it—Uncle and I, that was. If I spoke out, I’d be painted a liar. I’d never see a drop of my inheritance. He’d move me to the most remote boarding school he could find, just so that I’d never have the chance to get my hands on Margo Wolfe.

  That was all I wanted. All I could focus on.

  She made this my reality.

  But… no one ever thought to stop my uncle. Not even the Blacks were successful, although they sure as hell tried.

  He had my entire inheritance to use on lawyers, and he liked to threaten to drain it before I turned eighteen. He had the upper hand always.

  I picked myself up just as Eli’s mom pulled into the school driveway. I did my best to wipe the blood from my face, but my jaw and lip were hot to the touch.

  “Caleb!” she yelled. She left the car and racing toward me. “Oh my god. What happened?”

  I was living with them, and it was a small blessing. Nothing more.

  She touched my cheek, and I winced.

  “Uncle David had some choice words,” I mumbled.

  She clucked. “He had
more than some choice words. This is ridiculous. We’ll fight it.” She nodded, bolstering herself up. “You’ll be safe with us.”

  Doubt it.

  Guardianship would be as far as Uncle let the Blacks take it. I knew it already.

  Up against him, it would always be a losing battle.

  15

  Margo

  I feel him before I see him.

  This time, at least, I know it’s him. My neck prickles, and goosebumps race up the backs of my arms. I straighten with the pack of candy in my hand and turn to face him.

  He walks toward me with his hands in his pockets. His dark hair is brushed back from his face, and his light eyes are tracking my movement. I scan his body just as he does the same to me.

  White shirt, black jeans, a black shell jacket.

  All that’s missing is the aviator sunglasses to be considered a cool kid.

  When my eyes get back to his face, I realize he’s smirking. I shiver, suddenly wishing I was back in the waiting room. There are witnesses there, and…

  He’s been weird.

  I’ve been weird, too, I know. I slept in his bed like a stalker, had sex, and then…

  “You okay?” He stops in front of me. Close enough to touch, but not. His smirk fades, leaving only worry. “You’re pale.”

  “Robert is in surgery,” I say.

  I touch the knife in my pocket, hoping it’s an inconspicuous movement. I grab his hand, threading my fingers with his. I wonder, when I get up the courage to look at his knuckles, if they’ll be bloody.

  What would Caleb say if he knew that I knew?

  I already know he didn’t get much information out of him. Liam said as much. But there are so many more mysteries, and under all of it?

  Hatred.

  Why does Caleb get to beat up Matt for something that happened to me?

  “I can’t do this right now,” I murmur, retreating behind my mental wall.

  His hand tightens on mine. “You’re running away.”

  “Just mimicking you.” I glare at him and tug.

  He releases me. “It’s because I don’t know how to help you.”

  I blink.

  “You’re hurting, for fuck’s sake, and I don’t know—” He turns away and runs his hand through his hair. “I’d like to think I know you. That you don’t want coddling. But if not that, what?”