Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

“Incoming,” Liam warns. He nods toward the benches.

He wouldn’t warn me about Coach. When I turn around, I spot Amelie.

I clench my jaw. We’re at hockey practice, waiting on Coach Marzden to appear, and Amelie trots down the steps to the bench. I skate toward her, anticipating that she’s only here to say something stupid to me about Margo.

I feel Theo at my back. He’s my only silent shadow—the other two are a bit more obvious about it.

“Fuck off,” I tell Amelie when she gets to our level.

She scowls. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” I raise my eyebrow. “Unless you’d like Theo to remove you from my sight?”

Our practice is going to start any minute.

Nothing Amelie can say will make a difference about Margo. The lost lamb is mine. I know it. My friends know it. The whole school fucking knows it, no matter what she or Amelie say. The only one who isn’t convinced is Margo Wolfe.

And what a little wolf she’s becoming.

Theo moves forward, his arm brushing mine. A show of force.

Amelie steps back, glaring at him. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you later.”

“No, you won’t.”

She scowls.

When she’s finally out of sight, I glance over at Theo.

He’s scowling, too. Glaring back down the aisle the way she came. “What the fuck does she want?”

I shrug.

Liam stops with a shower of snow over our skates. “She knows she can’t have you, Theo, so she’s trying to get in Caleb’s pants instead.”

Theo laughs, and I shove Liam. Asshole.

“All right,” Coach calls, blowing his whistle. He skates onto the ice. “Get over here, you lazy gits.”

As captain, it’s my job to keep the team together. To set an example. But my mind keeps straying back to Margo.

“Asher!” Coach snaps.

I jerk. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re not alone in doing sprints today.”

I suppress my sigh—but everyone else doesn’t. The groans are audible, and Coach just chuckles. For every complaint, another sprint will be tacked on. Or two.

We line up on the goal line, at the ready, and wait for the whistle.

When it goes off, we skate down and back. My ribs and stomach hurt, the exertion pulling at my bruised muscles, but I force it out of my mind.

Down and back.

Again.

Again.

Again.

My lungs are on fire by the time he pauses, but no one complains again.

“Not bad,” Coach says. “Take two minutes, then we’ll get started. Asher, Alistair, with me.”

Theo and I trade a look, but we follow Coach to the bench. I grab a water bottle and squirt it through my cage into my mouth. Beside me, Theo does the same.

“I’m making Theo your alternate,” Coach says without preamble.

I lower the bottle. “Why?”

“Because your head is up your ass,” Coach answers. “I got a call from your uncle yesterday. He thinks you need a little incentive to pay more attention. Besides—you’re still suspended, and the team needs a leader.”

I grimace.

Theo shakes his head. “I don’t want it.”

“You take it or I’m picking Ian—and he won’t be an alternate, he’ll be captain. Period.” His gaze switches to me. “Attitude adjustment, or I’ll strip that ‘C’ off your chest faster than you can say sorry.”

Fuck, he’s serious.

Theo looks at me, then slowly nods. Yeah, it’s a blow to my ego, but I can suck it up. I would rather have Theo in my corner any day over Ian fucking Fletcher.

“Back to your sprints, Asher,” Coach says. “You’re not out of the doghouse yet.”

Naturally.

While the rest of the team works on passing and shooting drills, I skate back and forth until my legs want to fall off… and then when they don’t, it’s because I’ve completely lost feeling in them.

I make it back to the goal line for what feels like the seven millionth time, and Coach stops me.

“Coach?” I question. Sweat pours down my face, drenching my undershirt. I take my helmet off and slick my hair back.

Gross.

“Practice is over, Asher.” He appraises me. “Tomorrow we’ll be back to normal.”

I glance around, only to discover the rink completely empty.

How did I miss that?

“Where’s your list of schools?” he asks. “We discussed this the other day.”

Fucking hell. I’m so tired I can barely think—and that’s probably why he’s chosen to bring it up now.

“Did my uncle call to ask about that, too?”

He glares at me. “I mean it, Caleb. Get your head out of your ass and think smart. Deadlines are approaching.”

“That it?”

Sometimes I make him mad enough that I think he’s going to take a swing at me. Now’s one of those times. The flippant attitude… I mean, it doesn’t matter where I want to go to school, does it? My uncle is going to put me wherever he thinks I need to go.

My mother apparently wants me to go to Harvard… but why the fuck would she want that, unless it’s something my uncle spoon-fed her?

“Go on.”

Most of the team is done and gone by the time I get into the locker room. To clarify—a different one than where I fucked Margo earlier. The arena is down the street from the school. A different building entirely.

A quick, hot shower warms my bones. But I can’t shake the feeling that pressure is creeping up on me. My uncle, my mom. They’re prying.

Liam waits for me by my cubby. His gaze drops to my torso, and his eyes widen. Not much can surprise him, but… “Holy fucking shit. What the hell happened?”

I glance down at the bruises from my uncle.

“Nothing good.”

He just looks at me, and I force myself to hold his gaze. My friends don’t really know. I don’t think I’ve ever openly admitted what my uncle does for sport. But they do know that as soon as Eli’s parents offered me the room in their basement, I jumped at it.

And on the topic of my conversation with Coach, I’m not about to tell Liam about college. About the prestigious route my uncle and mother have laid out for me. Liam seems to think it’s iffy he’ll even make it that far, unless he gets a scholarship. Which is totally possible—he plays hockey well enough to play on the college level. A division one school would be lucky to have him.

Coach is all about the sport. No time for lust or mind games. No time for drinking, partying, girls.

No fighting.

“How’s Marg—I mean, Amelie?” Liam snickers.

I shake my head. “I’m not touching Amelie. She’s fucking delusional.”

“You may not be touching her, but she sure as hell wants you to.”

I roll my eyes, grabbing my bag. We walk out together. “That’s the problem. She’s got an issue with Theo and wants me to save her from it.”

Liam shakes his head. “Not gonna comment on that.”

“And you? No girls you’re chasing?”

“Nope. I’m free as a bird!”

He’s a lying bastard. All of us are. It’s the glue that holds us together. That and undying loyalty. I might want to punch Liam’s face in sometimes, but I’d kill for him. I know he’d do the same for me.

“You seem… off.”

“Maybe I am.” I shrug on my coat and follow him to the parking lot.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

We get to my car. His is in the shop—it’s always in the shop—so Theo and I have been taking turns giving him rides. He lives in the middle of nowhere, which isn’t terrible. I don’t mind the drive. It gives me time to think.

But I’ve been thinking too much, holding on to things I should really get off my chest. It’s no wonder Liam’s picked up on something no one else has.

“I found something,” I tell him once we’re on the road. “A note.”

“A note,” Liam repeats. “What did it say?”

“Just shut up and fucking listen, would you?”

I haven’t told anyone this. I’ve scarcely been able to think about it, let alone bring it up in conversation. I learned early on that secrets only remain such if they’re held with one person.

“After Margo went missing, I broke into her room at the Bryans’ house. I was going to take a picture of the family because it piqued my curiosity, you know? After I told them that Margo’s mom was responsible for giving their daughter drugs. But…”

“Isn’t that what happened?” Liam eyes me. “You did tell them that, which is why Margo ran away from you.”

“Amber didn’t leave town like I told her to,” I admit. “I was going to take the photo of the Bryans—including their daughter—and I was going to ask her if she recognized any of them.”

“Fuck, man. That’s a terrible idea.”

“I threatened her to leave, but she hasn’t. So she’s here for something.” I hate not knowing.

“Okay, so what did the note say?”

“It was actually kind of morbid.” I frown. “The Bryans’ kid was essentially apologizing for being a fuck up, said she hoped that when they took down the photo and eventually found it, that she had earned their forgiveness by then.”

Liam whistles.

“Obviously it doesn’t prove anything either way. Just a bit of weird foreshadowing.”

We sit with that.

And then there’s the fact that I took it with me, which…

“What about Margo?” Liam asks.

“Her mom might try to reach out,” I allow. “But after what Margo did… I don’t think that’s why she wants to suddenly reconnect with Keith. I gave her cash, and she still didn’t go.”

“And you don’t know where she is.”

I grind my teeth. I haven’t even had time to look for her again—and not only that, but my mother is on the job, too. My mother and Margo’s… Uncle David knows Amber is here. The whole family knows, which means my leverage has vanished.

It’s all just a clusterfuck that I need to keep Margo as far away from as possible. Which means sticking as close to her as I can, to steer her in the right direction.

Liam’s driveway is long and winding. We finally get to his house on a hill, and I kill the engine.

“You’ll find her,” he says. “If you need to.”

“Not without asking.” And I’m definitely not asking anyone who’ll know. With the way Amelie is behaving, any gossip she overhears is out. Same with Ian fucking Fletcher.

He climbs out of the car. “Wanna chill?”

I shrug and get out, following him into the house. It’s old. Their security system is the front door hinges that squeal, and little else. Liam’s family used to be made of money like the rest of us, but that changed a few years ago. He’s still at Emery-Rose because Coach helped him get a scholarship, and he’s one of only a few students who received it.

It’s hush-hush, though.

He casts a single glance down the hill to his neighbor’s house, which stands still and silent, before entering his.

“That you, Liam?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he calls. We kick off our shoes. “Caleb brought me home.”

His mom rounds a corner and grins. She has flour on her cheek, and she wastes zero time pulling Liam in for a hug and kissing his cheek. She does the same to me, as if I were one of her boys. Liam swipes at the flour on her face, and she laughs.

“I was just making bread,” she explains. “Are you staying for dinner, Caleb?”

With Eli’s family out of town, I’ve been on my own. It hasn’t been half bad, actually. But someone offering to cook for me…

“I’d love to,” I say.

Mrs. Morrison is always quick with the smiles—something I find truly impressive after such a devastating financial loss. But their family was able to stay intact, so… maybe that’s all that matters.

Or maybe it’s all that matters now.

“Wonderful. Colby will be home soon.”

Colby is Liam’s younger brother. He goes to the public school, and the bus will deliver him.

I follow Liam up to his room. “How is she?”

He grunts and drops his bag on his desk. He motions for me to take the chair, and he flops onto his bed. “She’s stressed as always. Colby just got his license, and our parents splurged and got him a car. I think they forgot about the insurance rate for new drivers. He’s going to have to get a job if he wants to keep it, otherwise…”

“He’ll get there.” It might be a lie—I have no fucking idea how much car insurance costs.

Liam nods sharply. “What’d Theo say about the alternate captain thing?”

“Not much.” I drop into his desk chair and kick out my legs. “He deserves it. I can’t even play, although Coach hinted that I’ll be rejoining regular practice again.”

“Wow, the magnanimous Caleb Asher. Kind words, seeing as how you’ve held on to the captainship with a bloody grip since the beginning of junior year.”

I roll my eyes. It’s true, though. If it was anyone other than Theo, I would’ve been pissed.

And everyone would’ve known it.

My phone rings, pausing my retort. I flash the screen at Liam, and his eyebrows jump up.

“Didn’t know your mom remembered your number.” He hops up and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

“Yes?” I lean back in the chair, and the front two legs lift off the floor.

“Caleb?” my mother asks. Like she’s not sure.

“What can I do for you, Mother?”

She huffs. “What a greeting. Where are you?”

“A friend’s house.” I focus on the ceiling. Talking to her is painful, like going to the dentist to have a cavity filled. She’s out of touch with reality most of the time.

“But not the Black’s? Eli’s mother called to check in, said they were going to be in Chicago for another few days.”

Silence.

“You didn’t say they were out of town,” she finishes.

“I didn’t know you cared.” My chair’s front legs slam back down.

“We’re having family dinner at David’s tonight. Six o’clock.”

I glance at my watch. It’s almost five. “Thanks for the short notice. I already have dinner plans.” They’re at least a forty-five-minute drive from Eli’s—longer from Liam’s. Besides already telling Mrs. Morrison I’d be having dinner with them, I’d be late—even if I left now.

And that would be worse than not showing up at all.

“Caleb Asher,” she starts.

“Sorry, Mother. If you want to get on my schedule, maybe you should book farther in advance.”

I hang up and toss my phone across Liam’s desk. There will be consequences for this. Not from Mother Dearest, of course. Uncle David will take it as a personal offense. And unfortunately, he has a bit more sway in my life than she does.

He should’ve mentioned it when I was at his stupid house this morning.

My phone immediately lights up with an incoming call from my uncle.

I leave it in the room and go downstairs, joining Liam and Colby at the table. They’re playing cards while their mother bustles around the kitchen, and I try to ignore the swooping feeling in my gut.

They used to live in the Bryans’ house until Liam’s dad got laid off. Suddenly, their whole family was put on a shoestring budget. No more fancy house in Rose Hill with an expensive mortgage, and no more private school for their son—until he got the scholarship, that is. Colby wasn’t so lucky, even in that. He doesn’t play hockey, so…

Still, this family has done the best they can. They converted their basement into a game room to keep the boys from going out and spending money, and they’ve always welcomed me, Eli, and Theo. The Morrisons are a blessing on lost boys like us.

Mr. Morrison got another job, although not one that pays well, and they stay afloat.

Somehow.

Barely.

“Your father is working late.” Liam’s mom places a pot of soup in the center of the table. “If you could pause the game, boys, we’ll eat.”

We each get our own oval loaf of bread to carve out, and then we dump the tomato bisque into the bread bowls. The love that went into this meal makes me uncomfortable. I eat with Eli’s family most nights, but they have a chef who prepares most of the food.

This was… There’s more flour on Liam’s mom’s cheek from the breadmaking. Not the loaves in front of us, but I suspect more dough for a future meal similar to this one.

Colby looks up and notices, his eyes softening. Liam worries about his brother, but as long as he’s treating his mom okay…

I should know. It’s the golden benchmark nowadays.

I’m lucky Margo doesn’t know how I treat my mother—and hers.

Colby leans over and brushes the remnants of flour from her cheek.

She smiles, touching the back of his hand for a brief moment.

I shift in my seat. Affection is something that’s been a little sparse in my life… except Margo. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone care as much as she does, even if she tries not to. Even if she pretends otherwise. Even if she’s fucking pissed at me.

That’s one thing I’ll continue to be jealous about: Liam has a mom who gives a shit.

“The soup is delicious,” I tell her.

“Thank you, dear. Old family recipe.”

She asks Liam and Colby about school and sports. Colby goes on a rant about some offense one of his football teammates committed, while Liam snickers into his soup and his mother nods along sympathetically.

When he’s finished, and Liam brushes off the subject, she turns her attention on me. I answer her questions the best I can—how I’m getting on and dealing with school and whatever. Every answer, I’m mindful of the bruises across my stomach and the bracelet on my wrist.

“Sorry about the interrogation.” Liam says after dinner, back in his room. He picks up a roll of white tape—for his hockey sticks—and tosses it from one hand to the other.

“It’s nice that someone cares,” I mumble. “I gotta go.”

My phone has three missed calls—one from my mother and two from Uncle David.

Once I’m in the car, I call him back.

“My house. Now.”

I sigh. “I was invited to dinner by my friend’s mom. I’d already accepted by the time Mother called to ask⁠—”

“It’s perfectly acceptable to tell them that your presence has been requested⁠—”

“Request makes it sound like a choice,” I interrupt. “If it was an order, it should’ve been delivered as such from the outlet. Not sending Mom to ask nicely.

“Let me remind you who your legal guardian is until you’re eighteen,” he growls. “Do not make me⁠—”

I hang up on him and finish the drive to Margo’s house in silence. Riley’s car is out front, but neither Lenora’s nor Robert’s cars are in the driveway.

If they don’t try to teach Margo to drive soon, I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands. Not that I want to give her more independence, but… well, she should know how.

I park down the street, where hopefully my car will go unnoticed by Riley when she leaves, and slip across the front lawn. I scale the trellis up to the second floor. After the day I’ve had, every muscle is sore. But I keep going until I peek into her window. The light is off in her bedroom, but the window unlocked. Almost like she’s expecting me.

I pull my leg through just as the front porch light flickers on and girls’ voices drift toward me. Talk about good timing.

“See you tomorrow,” Riley calls.

“Bye,” Margo answers.

I sit on her bed and pick up the sleep shirt she left on her pillow. She might hate me, but I can’t stay away.

I’ve tried—but life is so much more exciting with Margo around.