There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. It’s Cole, no question about it. I’ve been avoiding him since we got home from school, my head a jumbled mess since my conversation with Shane this afternoon. I don’t know the right thing to do in this situation, or what to even say.
“Gwen,” he calls, slowly turning the knob. “I know you’re in there. I’m coming in.”
Damn it. Why didn’t I lock my door?
His face is tight with concern, head ducked as he quietly closes the door behind him. He approaches my bed slowly, like he’s afraid to spook me. “Are you mad at me about something?” he hedges.
I don’t respond, my body frozen with anxiety. There are a lot of emotions flooding me at the moment, but anger isn’t one of them. I’ve got a big decision to make. And, no matter what I choose, Cole gets hurt.
He takes a seat on the end of my bed, sighing. “Well, you’re not speaking to me. I must’ve done something wrong. Can you just tell me so we can move on? I haven’t kissed you all day. I’m dying here.”
I hiccup a laugh, my eyes watering with tears. “Did you beat Shane up?”
He releases a long breath, his shoulders falling. “I thought we agreed it was best not to talk about that shit, Princess.”
“You decided that, but I want to know. Answer my question,” I demand.
His jaw tics, his green eyes studying me for a solid minute before he speaks. “No, I didn’t lay a hand on Shane.”
“But…you did something to him?” I press.
Annoyance darkens Cole’s face, his voice colder as he replies, “Is this really about Shane? The asshole who’s made your life hell for years?”
“Yes. No.” I rub at my throbbing temples. “It’s about you and all this Westbrook Three shit. You guys can’t keep going after people and not expect them to retaliate. It’s not safe.”
His anger is replaced with worry as he scoots closer. “Did someone do or say something to you?”
“No,” I lie. “Of course not. I just can’t stand the thought of anyone ever hurting you.”
That’s a hundred percent true. I would do anything to protect Cole. Even if it means breaking both of our hearts to do it.
A soft smile forms on his lips, and he takes my hands in his. “Let me see if I understand. You’ve been avoiding me for hours because you’re concerned about me?”
“It’s not a joke, Cole,” I choke out. “One day you’re going to mess with the wrong person and…”
I can’t even finish the sentence. Someday has come, and we’re both going to pay the price.
“Everything is under control,” he says, trying to reassure me. “I’m not afraid of any of the assholes in this town. Let them take their best shot. I’ll just hit back ten times harder. As long as I have you, nothing can touch me.”
My heart swells then shatters, Shane’s words from earlier echoing in my head.
“Cole’s an expert at finding people’s weaknesses, but I know his too. If you want me to keep this from him and the rest of our peers, you’ll have to do something for me in return.”
“What do you want?”
“Revenge. Your asshole boyfriend thought he could fuck with me and get away with it. Now, I’m going to take away the one person he cares for most in this world. You’re the key to his demise.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Present
COLE
The tension in my muscles grows tighter with each minute that passes by, my mind running a hundred miles an hour while I wait for Gwen on the hotel bed.
She was quiet on the way here, her mind seemingly somewhere else. Every time I asked what was going on, she’d give me a fake smile and tell me how excited she was to spend the night with me.
I tried to tell myself it was nothing more than paranoia—that I was simply trying to find something wrong because everything is so perfect. Yet I still can’t shake the feeling that something happened when she disappeared at the dance.
Until the game last night, Shane had been making himself scarce. It seemed like our little chat had an impact on him. Gwen stopped receiving texts, and he hadn’t so much as looked her way. But he didn’t seem like someone who learned his lesson when he was glaring at me from the top of the bleachers.
Thatcher and Arwen weren’t happy when they learned I handled that situation alone, though they’ve been helping me keep an eye on him since. None of us saw him at the dance, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t somewhere lurking in the shadows.
Gwen steps out of the bathroom in a black lace nightie and all my worried thoughts evaporate into thin air. I’m alone in this room with the girl I love, here and now. That’s what matters. All the other bullshit can wait. I won’t let any of that or my demons fuck this night up.
She looks at me shyly as I get off the bed and prowl toward her. “God damn, I love you.”
Her lashes flutter, her eyes widening. “You do?”
I chuckle, thrown by her confusion. “You act like this is news.”
Maybe we haven’t exchanged those exact words since we started dating again, but it doesn’t make it any less true. There are other ways to tell someone you love them.
“It’s just…that’s the first time you’ve said it since…”
She doesn’t need to finish her thought. The last time I said those three words to her is permanently etched into my mind. It was only moments before she broke my heart. Maybe subconsciously I’ve been holding out on saying it again because of what happened two years ago.
My hands land on her hips, and I connect my body with hers. “You haven’t said it back. Does that mean—”
“I love you,” she rushes. “I never stopped. Not for a second. There will never be a day when my heart doesn’t belong to you.”
“For keeps?”
Her lips curl into a warm smile, those maple syrup eyes swirling with love. “Promise.”
“Hey, sweet boy,” my mother greets me as I walk in the door. “How was your night?”
“Great,” I call over my shoulder, not bothering to stop on the way to my room.
It felt incredible waking up next to Gwen this morning, but it made getting out of bed difficult. We stayed at the hotel until check-out time, getting in two more rounds of sex before going at it one more time in the shower. Then we went for pancakes, both of us ignoring our phones and the rest of the world.
But we couldn’t stay in our bubble forever. As soon as we left breakfast and Gwen checked her phone, that gnawing feeling that something was wrong returned. It was obvious whatever she saw on her phone upset her. When I asked what was going on, she quickly shoved the phone back in her purse. She seemed freaked, like she was worried I might find out why. She tried hard to cover it up though, providing me with more false smiles and lies.
My mom follows behind me, pausing at my bedroom door. “That’s all I get? Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah.” I toss my bag onto the floor and grab my laptop. “Sorry, I need to take care of this real quick.” She studies me with concern as I finally turn to meet her gaze. “I’ll come tell you all about it once I’m done. Promise,” I assure her.
A smile spreads across her cheeks. “Well, I don’t want all the details.” She gives me a wink before walking away.
Chuckling, I close the door and sit on my bed.
Once I get into Gwen’s phone from my laptop, it doesn’t take long to find the source of her tension. The first thing I see is a message from Shane. My head spins as I read it.
Satan: I’m so sad we didn’t get more time together last night. Your smell lingered on my clothes though. Made the visuals extremely vivid.
He was with her at the dance last night. And the motherfucker touched her—was close enough to get her smell on him.
This is the real reason she disappeared. Why didn’t she tell me? I thought we were past this bullshit. Why the hell would she let him do this to her again? Does she not trust that I’ll protect her? That I
’ll love her no matter what?
Another message pops up, this one a reply from Gwen.
Gwen: You’re a disgusting creep. Leave me alone or I will tell Cole. If you go to the cops, I’ll tell them you attacked me.
Attacked?
My stomach drops. Gwen had bruises on her this morning. She said it was nothing. Blamed it on being clumsy. I have no idea why she’d lie to me or cover up for that asshole. But I know it was Shane, and I’m going to kill him.
Satan: And what about the secret you’ve been keeping from him?
Satan: What do you think he’ll do when he finds out it was his real father who killed Nicolas Masterson?
All the air leaves my body, my head swimming with confusion.
Gwen: If you were going to tell him, you would’ve done it by now.
Satan: I already did. You just don’t realize it yet.
I slam my laptop closed, feeling the contents of my breakfast churning in my stomach.
This can’t be true. My real father killed…
No. No. It’s a lie.
I’m up and walking out of my room before even being fully conscious of it, my steps carrying me toward the sound of humming coming from the kitchen.
“That didn’t take long,” my mother says as I walk in the room. “Are you hungry? I’m making a sandwich.” When I don’t answer, she focuses her attention on me. “Cole? Are you all right, baby?” She rushes over to me, concern puckering her features.
“What’s my father’s name?”
All the color drains from her face, her eyes widening with horror. “What?”
“Was my father Nicolas Masterson?”
Her stare drops, taking my stomach with it. “I—” She gives a slight shake of her head as she meets my gaze again with watery eyes. “He was your daddy.”
“But he wasn’t the man who got you pregnant?”
Tears fall down her face as she reaches out to comfort me. “Cole, honey, I…”
I put my hand up, not wanting to be touched. “What was his name? The man I share DNA with.”
She places a trembling hand over her heart, shame and guilt darkening her features as she answers, “Brody Kenton.”
That’s a name I know well. One I’ve despised since the first time I heard it over a decade ago.
Rising country star Nicolas Masterson was beaten and stabbed to death outside of a Nashville honkytonk Saturday night by Brody Kenton. Police aren’t releasing any details about the case, including the Louisiana man’s ties to Masterson.
What Shane said was true. My mother has been lying to me my entire life. Gwen knew and didn’t tell me. How could she do that to me?
My mother chases after me as I walk away, heading for the front door. “Cole, where are you going? Please sit down and let me explain.”
I scoff. “You’ve had nearly eighteen years to tell me the truth, and you chose not to.”
“You have to understand, baby. I was only trying to protect you.”
I come to an abrupt stop, turning to face her. “Why? You didn’t want me to know Dad is dead because of me?”
And there it is. The real reason this feels so fucking awful. My dad loved me, and it cost him his life.
My mother gasps, her head adamantly shaking. “Oh god, no. Brody killed him to hurt me. If anyone deserves the blame, it’s me.”
The pain in her voice kicks all the anger and hurt out of me, and I pull her into my arms as she begins to cry. “Why did he do it?”
She leans back to meet my stare. “Come sit down with me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
I nod and follow her to the couch, taking a seat next to her.
“Who was he to you?” I ask, part of me terrified to hear the answer.
“He was my high school boyfriend. As you know, my parents died when I was young. Your aunt and I grew up in foster homes never knowing what it meant to truly be loved.”
I bob my head, though she’s never told me much about what life was like for her growing up. Then again, I never really asked. It’s one of those things you don’t give a lot of thought to. As if your parents didn’t have a life before you were in it.
“When Brody started paying attention to me, I felt special for the first time in my life. But not long after we began dating, he became controlling and jealous. I told myself it was only because he cared so much about me. By the time the bruises became harder to hide, I was in full denial.”
My chest tightens at the thought of my mom young and afraid, covered in bruises with no one to turn to. I didn’t think it was possible to hate that man more than I already did.
“When I got pregnant with you, it was like someone flipped on a light switch. I might’ve let him beat me for the rest of my life, but the thought of him hurting you…”
Her words trail off as tears spring from her eyes again, and she takes my hand. “I loved you from the moment you were conceived. There was no way I’d let him or anyone else hurt you.”
The lump in my throat cuts off my air supply, my own tears falling now.
“So, I packed up my suitcase and caught a bus to Nashville. That ticket cost me every dime to my name, but I stayed in hostels and found a job waiting tables at a bar downtown. That’s how I met your daddy.”
Dad used to tell me the story all the time, about how he met my mom. The tale of a young musician who was on the wrong path until he fell in love was his favorite bedtime story. Though he clearly left out some important details.
“Nicolas would come in once a week for open mic night, and every week he’d ask me out,” she says, a warm smile lighting her face as she remembers him. “I finally told him I was pregnant, thinking it would put a stop to it. But he got me to agree to a friendship, and eventually that blossomed into something more. When he asked me to marry him, he said he wanted to be your daddy. For us to be a family. And that’s what I wanted, too.”
My parents went to the courthouse to get married. Didn’t have any official wedding photos. But I’d seen a couple of my momma wearing a white dress, her hands holding a bouquet of flowers and her belly round.
“Things were wonderful the first few years. Until your daddy got some notoriety.” Her features darken with sorrow again, causing an aching in my chest. I know how this part of the story goes. “All it took was one person snapping a picture of you and me with your dad for my world to come crashing down around me. I never told Brody about being pregnant, but he took one look at you and knew.”
People used to tell me I was handsome like my daddy, but I knew they were only being polite. We didn’t look anything alike. His dark hair and brown eyes were a complete contrast to my blond hair and bright green eyes. Still, it never occurred to me that he wasn’t my biological father.
“Brody showed up, making demands and threats, wanting me to come with him. Your daddy protected us though, and his friends in the police department ran Brody out of town. Or so we thought. And, well…you know what happened from there.”
Yeah, I know all too well. The bastard killed him. Waited for my dad outside of the bar where he was playing a gig. Brody had beaten him so severely, it had to be a closed casket funeral. My dad had walked out of our house that night whistling, promising to take me fishing over the weekend.
I never saw him again.
My mom’s eyes fill with panic as I stand. “Cole?”
“Thank you for telling me,” I manage, running my antsy hands through my hair. “But I…I’ve got to go.”
“Go?” she screeches, chasing after me as I head for the door. “It isn’t good to drive when you’re upset, sweetheart. Please don’t go. I wouldn’t survive losing you too.”
Her words stop me in my tracks, and I turn to give her a quick kiss on the head. “It’s going to be okay,” I try to reassure her. “I’m fine. I just need to clear my head. To process all this. I’ll check in with you later.”
She opens her mouth to protest again, but I’m out the door before she can stop me.
Cha
pter Thirty-Six
15 years old
COLE
It’s like a thousand bees are swarming in my head, a fire in my lungs from the lack of oxygen. This can’t be happening. I couldn’t have heard her correctly.
For keeps. She promised.
“Cole?” she tries, her voice shaky and unsure. “Did you hear me?”
I sit at the end of my bed and shake my head, refusing to trust my senses over my heart.
It was obvious something was bothering her. She’d been acting funny all week. But she wouldn’t do this to me. To us. She loves me. I know she does.
She sighs, placing a hand over her stomach. “It’s not a good idea for us to keep seeing each other. Not right now. We just need to cool it for a while.”
“No,” I bark out, and she cringes at my tone. “That’s not happening.”
“Cole…”
I run my hands through my hair, holding her gaze with mine as fury heats my veins. “What the hell are you even talking about? Is this some kind of joke? Because it’s not fucking funny.”
Tears roll down her face, but it only makes me angrier. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, no?” I grit. “But you would stomp on my heart by breaking up with me?”
She swallows, taking a deep breath before responding. “I know you can’t see it right now, but this is for the best.”
For the best? How can she say that?
This room is where we shared our first kiss and had sex for the first time. It holds so many good memories, and she’s tainting them all right now.
“You’re right. I don’t see that.” I chuckle through my grinding teeth.
She chews on her bottom lip, fear etched into her features. She’s freaking out about something. Maybe I just need to reassure her everything is going to be okay.
I come to my feet again, ignoring the way her body stiffens when I pull her into my arms. “Are you still worrying about your parents finding out and my mom losing her job? I told you, I’ve got it all worked out. Give me a little more time.”
The Princess and The Jester: A High School Bully Romance (Westbrook Three Book 3) Page 19