Brawl: A Bully Romance (King of Castleton Book 3) Read online

  So is that what had changed since moving here?

  Grandma’s not around constantly to put a strain on the relationship?

  Mom and Dad were arguing less, being more love-dovey. They’d acted like hormone-crazed teens the night of the homecoming dance, clustering together at the windows and watching Drake and I outside.

  Dad had pinched mom’s butt when she was making hot chocolate and she’d not snapped at him at all. She’d liked it. Okay, that one made me cringe a little.

  Yet, I really loved it too. River Valley was having a good effect on my family and the job was better pay, so maybe the money was helping things too.

  Not that money and an absent grandmother and a new town could solve a couple’s problems.

  I wondered why I hadn’t really given the change in my parents much thought before now…

  “Moving here wasn’t so terrible after all,” I murmured to the empty bedroom, half-expecting a buried stuffed animal in the closet to answer back. I’d once thought my parents were the exact opposite of what I wanted out of a relationship. It’s funny how things change, and you never really know what’s going on with loved ones unless you’re one half of the whole. Some things are hidden, and should be hidden. Inside jokes. Secrets whispered at midnight. The dark places that only the other half can touch.

  I read in bed for a while, until I smelled fresh coffee brewing—the heady, earthy sent wafting its way up the stairs. Dad was awake now. When I padded out of my room, I saw my parent’s bedroom door was cracked. Mom was tossing and turning still, her patented snore mingling with the dark roast scent and making me feel so very home.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Dad greeted me when I entered the kitchen. He was making toast, decked out head-to-toe in the plaid pajamas I’d gotten him last Christmas. Matching robe belted tightly around the button top. Mom actually bought them. I’d have gotten him something infinitely more practical… like a cell phone. Or, heck, a beeper. We could go old school. Maybe he’d agree to that.

  “Morning,” I responded, sliding onto the nearest bar stool and making grabby hands at him. His mouth quirked and when the toast popped up, he placed the two slices on the plate and made it the way I liked it—butter and a generous slather of blackberry jelly. He placed the food in front of me and I thanked him with a quick smile before shoving the first piece into my mouth.

  “So… what’s new with you?”

  My eyes widened and my mouth gaped, breakfast forgotten and crumbling from my lips. “Erhm. Did you just ask me what’s going on… with me?” I put the half-eaten toast down on the plate. “We don’t really do that. I mean, you talk to me and tell me things.”

  “Well, not a lot of time before graduation. No time like the present.”

  “Um… things are okay,” I stammered out, feeling a bit uncomfortable. I picked up the toast for comfort. It was cold now. Toast always had a cardboard-y taste when it cooled down.

  “Now, I know you mostly talk to your mom, but give me more than that.” Dad laughed, sipping on coffee.

  “There’s a guy I like,” I spat out, blush setting in immediately.

  “The Castleton boy?” Dad gave me a knowing glance as he added more sugar to his mug.

  I nodded, saying nothing and forcing down another bite of cold toast. At least the jelly and butter tasted good.

  “He seems like a good kid. Certainly comes from a decent family. Not that we should judge a person that way.” He leaned against the counter, holding the coffee cup with both hands.

  “He is a good person,” I said it a little too quickly, making Dad’s eyebrow quirk.

  “Guessing there are a few flaws beneath the perfect boy exterior?”

  Dad was way more astute than I gave him credit for… “Something like that,” I confirmed, pushing my plate away.

  “Toast cold?” He asked, turning to grab the bread and make more.

  “Yeah, but I’m full.”

  He dropped the bread. “That was enough? Enough to keep you feeling okay?”

  I laughed. “Dad, I’ve been dealing with my hypoglycemia for a long time. I’m a pretty good judge.” It wasn’t a lie, but he didn’t need to know that I did sometimes under-eat and not catch things before they got all woozy. It was totally fine, as long as there was a golden boy King of the school around to snag a confiscated candy bar from a teacher’s desk.

  “Alright then. I suppose you’ve opened up enough for now. Good father-daughter bonding talk.” He winked, and we both laughed loudly.

  “Awesome. I’ll be better prepared for next time, if you plan to make this a common occurrence.” To make Dad happy, I pulled my plate back to me and took another bite of cold toast. “See. Plenty of fuel to keep me going vroom-vroom.”

  “You make an old tired dad happy.” He quipped, raising his coffee cup as he nodded appreciatively.

  “I’m going on a quick run. I’ll take my phone.” I blew him a kiss as I hopped out of the room.

  As I changed into my running clothes, I checked my cell half a dozen times, as if a message from Drake would magically show up in the seconds since last time I brought the black screen to life. I’d told my dad I’d take the phone, but now I didn’t want to. There was no way I’d relax if I had it with me, and I needed to get my mind off of Drake Castleton.

  “Come on, Drake,” I murmured, “At least let me know you’re okay.” I held the phone for a moment, willing him to message me or call me, right the hell then. But he didn’t. The phone stayed dark, stayed silent.

  I tossed it on the bed before leaving.

  2.

  T A R R Y N

  The town felt deserted when I hit the sidewalk. No cars were driving on the road, no neighbors were out in housecoats grabbing their dew-soggy newspapers.

  It wasn’t that early. People should be awake.

  The absence of activity just made me feel lonelier. If only Drake would call or text or anything. I felt in my gut that something was wrong. As my feet hit the ground, I couldn’t stop myself thinking about last night. About Tabitha and the phone and what Drake had been saying. She’d recorded it all. Drake wasn’t as strong as he acted. He was a little boy inside, brittle and broken.

  I paused, muscles tightening to the point that I knew I was about to cramp. Stupid of me not to stretch. I knew better. I dropped to the grass, wincing when dampness started seeping through my black leggings. But I couldn’t ignore the lactic acid that was building. I pulled my feet inward, flattening the soles of my shoes against one another as I leaned forward. I stayed that way for a moment, then released the pose to pull one leg out and straighten it. I tugged on the toe of my sneaker, feeling the burn in my hamstring and calf.

  A honk pulled my attention to the road. My heart skipped a beat when I looked up and saw the neon green of Drake’s car. I stood a little too fast, stumbling to regain my footing. His name slipped from my lips as he pulled to a clumsy park at the side of the street. When he got out, I was taken aback at how tired he looked. Dark circles beneath his eyes dulled the gorgeous blue of his gaze. His golden hair was greasy, his forehead sweaty. He was in different clothes than last night. These weren’t his usual style—faded torn jeans, jacket a little short in the arms, a graphic shirt with a talking slice of pizza. How could a person change so drastically overnight?

  “Are… are you okay?” I took a step forward, but then fell back as Drake slumped against his car, door still open and engine idling.

  “Fine,” he mumbled, crossing his arms and closing his eyes.

  He looked so small against the large sports car. I swallowed, then made myself move forward despite the fact that my legs were still screaming. “What happened when you left me last night?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Drake turned his face away from me. I was close enough to touch him now. I reached a hand upwards, pinching his chin gently between two fingers. He let me turn his head back in my direction.

  “What happened, Drake?”

  He swallowed hard, the
blue of his eyes darkening more. “Let’s go for a drive.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere… anywhere.” He reached down and took my hand, pulling me towards the passenger side of the car. When he opened the door, I hesitated. He was hurting. There was pain under his skin. The Drake I knew could be reckless. “Please, Tarryn. Come with me.”

  I nodded, biting my lower lip. “Okay, Drake.”

  I slid into the car, shifting awkwardly when I realized my pants and underwear were still wet from the grass. “I’m getting your seat wet. I sat on the ground to stretch and—”

  “I don’t care.” He smiled sadly, closing the door. “It was already wet anyways.”

  He pulled away from the curb slowly, both hands on the steering wheel, none of his normal bravado showing. He didn’t want to talk. I wouldn’t make him right now. He’d open up when he was ready. I hoped.

  He drove slower than normal, winding around curves. I didn’t recognize where we were heading until we were already there—the clearing in the woods, and not too far off would be the lake. I thought back to that party, to sitting with Aiden and thinking how nice it was to like a guy who liked me back, and how nice it was to sit and talk to someone and kiss someone and…

  Before I found out he was Drake’s puppet.

  Drake pulled the car to a stop and shifted into park. He leaned back deeper against the driver’s seat and sighed, eyes closing for a moment. I opened my mouth to ask him what happened, or if there was something—anything—I could do, but just as my lips parted, his eyes flashed open and he opened his door with a violent jerk.

  “I’ve got to get some air.”

  I didn’t point out that we were sat in a convertible, top down, surrounded by fresh air. Quietly, I turned the car key and pulled it out of the ignition. He’d left it running in his haste to exit. Something was really wrong.

  He waited for me at the front of the car, gaze blinking lazily as I held the keys out to him. He didn’t seem to focus on them, to realize what I was trying to hand to him.

  “The keys?” I questioned stupidly, though of course it wasn’t a question at all. I knew what I was holding.

  But Drake seemed lost in his own little world. Finally, he took them from me, stuffing them into his jean pocket and grabbing my hand to pull me towards the trail. We moved in silence, cutting between trees and smashing down leaves that were damp from overnight dew.

  “Drake, talk to me,” I urged. He released my hand, but continued moving through the woods and towards the rippling water ahead. I followed slowly, watching the tense set of his shoulders and the way his head drooped. His hands were at his sides now, swinging gently while he walked, his fingers flexing in and out of fists.

  When he got a few feet from the bank, he fell to the ground, one leg tucked up near his body, the other stretched out in front of him. Moments later, I sat down beside him. A gentle breeze stirred and reminded me that I was still in sweaty running clothes. I shivered, and for some reason, this reaction pulled Drake out of his stupor.

  “You cold?” He pulled off the too-small jacket and draped it over my shoulders before I could respond.

  He looked too young now, sitting there in the pizza shirt, staring out at the water with baby blue eyes.

  “Drake, what happened to your clothes?” There, I’d start with a simpler question. Easy to explain.

  “I went to her house last night. After Tabs… taking that video,” he ran a hand through his hair, voice trembling slightly.

  “Her house?” Again, a stupid question. One I didn’t need to ask. Because I already knew.

  “I saw a light on, so I drove up and got out. But I couldn’t bring myself to go to the door. The house should have been empty.” He kept talking, almost mechanically. He didn’t answer my question, maybe because he also knew that I didn’t really need it answered. “It rained last night.”

  I waited for him to keep talking, but he fell silent. His four last words hanging in the air. I looked up at the sky. A few stray clouds flitted through the blue expanse. It hadn’t rained last night. Not here.

  “It didn’t rain last night.”

  “It did a few towns over. It rained, and my clothes got fucking soaked. And that’s when she came out. That’s when she saw me. She was just standing there, staring at me.”

  “Lane,” I said her name, and it tasted bitter in my mouth.

  Drake gave the slightest nod.

  “Why is she back? I don’t understand?”

  “Her house sold. She came back to finish cleaning it out and sign the paperwork.” Mechanical still, no emotions. Drake was a shell of a boy right now… and it was way worse to me than when he played the bully.

  I reached for him, hand hovering above his shoulder. Maybe he didn’t want to be touched. Some people didn’t like to be coddled when they were upset. I liked to be comforted, but lately I’d been keeping things to myself more than I used to… I wanted my parents to be happy.

  Finally, I let my fingers fall to touch the shirt he wore. He stiffened at first, but then softened, his body leaning slightly towards me.

  “I thought I was past all of that, Tarryn. I thought I’d gotten over it. God, I’ve fucked half the school since then. It shouldn’t hurt this much anymore.”

  “You numbed the pain, Drake. Sex doesn’t heal you. Sex was never going to heal you.”

  As if to prove me wrong, Drake turned towards me, coming up on his knees to look down at me. I dropped my hand away, eyes going wide at the fierce expression he now wore.

  “It made me forget.” His head tilted down, and I knew what he was about to do. I tried to shuffle away, not wanting to be kissed by him out of desperation. I wasn’t something to be used to make him feel better.

  But his arms wrapped around my body, pinning my arms to my sides, and he pulled me closer. When our lips met, it was a hard clash of mouths. He moved, trying to get me to give in to his touch, to what he wanted, to what he thought he needed.

  I pressed my hands against his chest and pushed him hard enough to make him rock back away from me. “This isn’t the answer. Don’t use me, Drake. I’m not like Tabitha.”

  His entire body crumpled in on itself, the little boy was back. Hollow like the tin man, with an empty chest and nothing to love.

  “I thought the letters were bad. I thought knowing the baby didn’t make it was bad. But… seeing her was like a knife through my goddamn chest.” He balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it against his body. Over his heart. Again and again. Beating himself whilst his breath came in jerky, hiccupping gasps.

  “Stop it, Drake!” I shouted, alarm flooding my body. I moved towards him, both hands wrapping around his wrist and trying to keep his hand from making contact again. “Hurting yourself doesn’t help anything.”

  “It helps me feel. It helps me feel something, goddammit.” He pulled away from me hard, my fingers not strong enough to keep hold. He stood in one swift motion, leaving me down on the ground. He began to pace, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say.

  I stood hesitantly, wanting to both step closer to Drake and move further away. My gaze moved to the lake, the floating dock a hundred feet or so from the shore. Not giving myself time to debate, I stripped off my sweaty running clothes, dropping them into a haphazard pile on the ground. I stood, in my underwear, looking at Drake. His gaze was wide now, confused. He didn’t know what I was doing.

  It was something unexpected. Something to pull him out of his darkness.

  “Come on.” I gave a small smile. And then I raced towards the water, splashing into the chilly wetness with a gasping giggle. I didn’t look back to see if Drake followed me, but halfway to the floating dock, I heard splashing in the near distance.

  Whatever had happened, he’d tell me when he could.

  I wouldn’t push him.

  I’d just let him know I was here.

  A distraction in the storm.

  3.

  D R A K E
r />   The past is bitter.

  Sometimes I want it back.

  I can ruin myself inside of it all over again.

  I let the engine idle, staring at that light in the window. No one should be here. The house was sold. It should be empty.

  I’d just come here to soak in the memories, to try and understand what had gone wrong—aside from my fucking father who’d driven her away with threats and money. Why had he bothered to keep in touch with her?

  The baby.

  Of course, he’d keep a watchful gaze on the Castleton bloodline.

  But then the baby had died.

  And her letters had stopped coming.

  And his financial support had dried up.

  Now, here I was outside the house that once only held pleasure for me. I’d loved her. I’d thought I’d loved her. I missed her. No, I still miss her. Lane.

  I needed to know who was in the house.

  Driving slowly, I navigated the curves of the long driveaway. When I shifted into park near the wide, freshly-painted stairs, rain began splattering against the windshield of the convertible. The rain, though I generally enjoyed it, did nothing to comfort me. All I could do was sit, top to the convertible down, and get soaked whilst I stared at the house. The porch used to be green, but now it was white. The bench swing used to be stained wood, but now it was also painted. Everything was washed-out, as if a snow storm had arrived to cover my memories and make them unrecognizable.

  I remember coming to her house for the first time and standing on those stairs. She was a riser above me, bare feet against the wood, and I’d kissed her gently. It wasn’t the stolen passion in the classroom. Here, we were freer. There were no watchful eyes to force us to hurry our movements.

  Depressing a button, I continued to sink into memories, now joined by the whine of the hardtop arching up from the trunk to wrap over the vehicle. The passenger seat was wet, and so was everything else. I didn’t have any towels, no way to suck up the moisture. I didn’t care.