Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

The rest of the week is uneventful. There’s not much happening at school. Football has moved almost exclusively to away games, and the hockey team is traveling this weekend, too.

The snow stuck to the ground, leaving an inch or two for a full day before melting away with the rain.

Caleb comes up to me when I’m at my locker on Friday. “Come to our scrimmage after school.”

I snort. “No.”

Once you get in the habit of standing up for yourself, it gets easier and easier to keep standing up for yourself. Not letting people run over you feels good. Great, even.

“We leave tomorrow.” He ducks his head toward me. “Half the school travels to the away games, but the half that doesn’t, goes to the scrimmage. And since you seem determined to stay here…”

“I’ve never heard of that being a thing. Half the school goes to the away games?”

He shrugs. “Ask anyone. They love hockey and they’re rich. Obviously they don’t mind driving their parents’ sports cars a few hours away, dropping a thousand bucks on a hotel room, getting absolutely blasted at a random party they find, and then heading back the next day.”

My gaze cuts to him. “What do you know about that?”

He smiles.

“You’re joking.” The idea of spending that much on a hotel, to see a silly sports team play a meaningless game, knots my stomach.

“So, the scrimmage,” Caleb continues. “It’s today after school. It’s just our team divided into two, but still exciting.”

“Good luck,” I say absently. I grab the last book I need and slam the door shut.

“Wait—”

I pause and turn back around. “What?”

“Why are you telling me good luck?” He gets closer, his expression sharpening.

“Are you even playing?” It’s fun to push his buttons. “I thought you were still suspended. So… good luck convincing your coach to let you play.”

He stares, but I hurry away. I make it to class right before the bell rings, slipping into my seat. It’s the one class I have with no one else. The teacher is talking to one of the students at the front of the room, so I open my messages with Riley.

Me

Caleb wants me to go to the scrimmage.

Riley

Is he playing?

That’s what I asked.

“Let’s get started,” the teacher calls.

Riley

Too late.

I stuff my phone into my bag.

Now… well, nothing I can do about it. Just a little way to dig Caleb farther into the pit with his hockey coach. Maybe it’s not a great time to be making an enemy of Caleb Asher, but I just can’t resist.

After all, this is a drop in the bucket compared to what he did to me.

Nothing happens the rest of the morning. I meet Riley at the doors to the library, and we eat in nervous silence.

Waiting for another shoe to drop.

We thought about targeting Amelie and Savannah, but I’m still unfortunately blanking. And Unknown has remained silent—for which I’m grateful.

The doors open, and footsteps approach.

Ian saunters toward us, a weird smile on his asshole face. “Caught you.”

I scowl. “Caught us doing what? Eating lunch?”

“I knew you were up to something fishy. Coach is on a rampage.”

Uh-oh.

“No one knows, yet,” Ian adds. “I just happened to be passing by his office when he started cursing. Rage like that doesn’t stay contained for long, though.”

His gaze switches to Riley.

“Do you ever speak? Or just shoot withering looks everywhere?”

She glares at him.

He sighs and picks at his nails. “I admire the way you get under Caleb’s skin so easily, Margo. It’s the kind of move I wish I had more finesse in. Because you were buried in there, and when you left, you damn near ripped his heart out.”

My mouth drops open.

“I don’t think you understand how cruel a hurting boy can be,” he adds. “And I’m not going to rehash everything, but let’s just say, he was a feral animal until Eli, Liam, and Theo came along. Somehow, they managed to get him under control.”

“They don’t control him,” I say. “They just…”

“They get it,” Riley says. “Eli⁠—”

“Oh, bore.” Ian pretends to fall asleep. “Save the psychoanalysis for someone who cares. I just wanted to let you two know that whatever you’re planning, it’s too late to stop.”

He leaves us to sit in silence.

“The people in this school are sick,” Riley murmurs. “I thought I knew the extent of it, but I had no idea.”

Right.

Suddenly, the library doors crash open again, and the hockey coach appears around the corner.

“You,” he barks at me.

I jump.

“With me. Right now.”

“I have to get to class…”

“I’ll write you a fucking note.”

I exchange a glance with Riley, then scramble to grab my bag and follow him. He doesn’t go toward the athletic wing, though. We head into the cafeteria.

The bell rings, and students suddenly stream around us.

Okay, around him. I do my best to stay right behind him. Did he see right through the note Riley put on his desk? And now he’s going to expel me.

Wait.

Can he expel me?

Maybe he’s just going to find the principal…

We pass the principal, whose attention locks on to Coach, then jumps to me. “Ms. Wolfe?”

“She’s with me,” Coach snaps.

Not something I hear every day. And that rules out my immediate expel theory.

We get into the cafeteria, where the only lingering people happen to be the cheerleaders and the hockey team.

They all go quiet at our arrival. Although it has less to do with me and more to do with Coach.

“Asher!” Coach roars.

Everyone stops moving—except Caleb. His brow is furrowed on approach. It’s the only indication that he’s not sure what’s happening.

Coach turns, and I trail after him. Caleb stalks behind me like a shadow. Down the hall, past students—including Riley, who stares at me with wide eyes. Into the athletic wing and right into Coach’s office.

“Shut the door.” He takes a seat behind his desk. “And sit down.”

I hurry to one of the two chairs, perching on the edge of it. Caleb follows more slowly, shutting the door and dropping into the seat next to me. He kicks his legs out, then leans back. His arms fold over his chest.

Now is the time to act like my life depends on it—but there’s no need to fake nerves. I’m so anxious, I might throw up.

“Not sure what this is about, Coach,” he says.

I glare at him. “And you think I do?”

His eyes cut to me. “Well, you were chasing after him⁠—”

“Quiet.” Coach leans forward. “Do you know what I had on my desk today? Hmm?”

Caleb pauses. “No, sir.”

Coach looks at me, and I shake my head quickly. It’s a lie, but I’m hoping my sudden terror—I wasn’t supposed to be dragged into this—masks it.

He throws a picture across the desk. Caleb grabs it before it slides off and hits the floor, taking one glance at it. He winces. He doesn’t even show me—he just tears it in half, and then in half again.

“I got rid of this,” Caleb says in a low voice. “Where⁠—”

“A note,” Coach says. He holds up the piece of paper that accompanied the picture. “I’ll read this out loud, and you can tell me what sort of bullshit we’re dealing with.”

He clears his throat.

“Coach Marzden,” he reads. “Your teams are held to a high standard. I, along with the rest of the school—faculty and parents included, I’m sure—find this admirable. We’ve watched the determination and focus of your football and hockey teams go to national championships because they avoid distractions.

“Parties. Girls. Drinking. You understand best of all how detrimental this is to our athletes.

“I’m disheartened to report that your star hockey player, Caleb Asher, has been seen indulging in all three of the aforementioned distractions. His scandalous fling with Margo Wolfe was even caught on camera, as seen by the evidence. This photo was passed around the school, right under the administration’s noses.

“If this is what student leadership is, then I am ashamed to attend Emery-Rose and be represented by such monstrous boys. Get your team under control, Coach.

“Sincerely, Unknown.”

Caleb scoffs. “They didn’t even sign their name?”

I swallow. It sounds worse read out loud, my name coming out of Coach’s mouth. The foul accusations…

“What do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Wolfe?”

I am going to pass out. My chest is tight, my mouth dry. I am pretty sure I’d rather face the principal and Ms. McCaw and the Bryans in a room together before I ever considered putting myself back in front of Coach Marzden.

Honesty is the best policy… right? Especially when it comes to lying.

“I’ve been harassed by someone via text messages for months. Their number showed up as Unknown. It seems fishy that this person would sign their name as Unknown, too…” I lift one shoulder, my gaze staying firmly on the desk.

“You’ve been getting harassed?” Caleb whispers beside me. “What the fuck, Margo?”

“Language,” Coach snaps. “Show me.”

I bite my lip and find the thread. I hand my phone over, and he scrolls through the messages. His scowl deepens.

“What happened with Ian?”

I jerk. “What?”

“They say, ‘this is the only time I’ll help you,’ with a photo of you and Ian Fletcher.”

“Um…”

Caleb’s gaze is on me, too.

I suppose I dug myself into this hole. “Ian…”

“Beat her in the woods,” Caleb finishes, not looking away from me. “And I found her.”

I blink back tears. This, at least, I don’t have to fake. Caleb’s hand lands on my knee, squeezing slightly. I shift away and use my sleeve to catch the tears before they fall.

Coach grunts. I have the feeling he doesn’t often deal with girls, much less crying ones.

“The note is a lie,” Caleb says. “The photo⁠—”

Caleb’s coach sighs and slides a travel pack of tissues to me.

I grab one and blow my nose.

“This type of thing will not get you into Harvard,” Coach says.

I go still.

Harvard? He’s going to Harvard? Or—no, he didn’t say he was going. Just that he wouldn’t get in with this behavior. Shit, he wants to go to college in Massachusetts?

I don’t know why that’s unsettling. It shouldn’t be.

He and I are not endgame. We are not going to end up living happily ever after with kids and a picture-perfect life. I’ve got trauma, he’s got anger issues. Our past makes the water between us murky.

As soon as I turn eighteen, I’m out of here. That wasn’t always the plan, but it sure as hell is now. Less than three months to go.

Caleb refutes his coach’s words, though, with a shake of his head. “I don’t party. I don’t drink. And Margo⁠—”

I glance at him. Margo, what? What lie is he going to spin now?

“We’re dating,” he finishes smoothly. “What happens outside of that is our business.”

Coach Marzden appraises us, and it’s hard not to squirm.

“Could’ve sworn I heard a rumor that you two broke up.”

Caleb raises his eyebrows.

I take a breath.

“We did break up, sir.” I stand, straightening my skirt. “I’ve told him repeatedly, and he doesn’t get it. Frankly, he borders on stalkerish sometimes.”

Coach’s mouth drops open.

I slide my phone back into my bag and stride out of the office. The door sounds with a solid click behind me, and I check just to make sure Caleb didn’t chase after me.

The situation didn’t unfold the way I imagined, but I still accomplished something. Still bit away at his coach’s trust in him, just like he’s been doing to me for years with my foster family.

Will Caleb believe that this mystery stalker is the one who sent the note? If he doesn’t, I’m afraid I might be on the receiving end of Caleb’s anger once again.