Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

“Where’s Lenora?” Riley asks.

She’s sleeping over tonight, which is a first for me. She came over a little while ago with her own pillow and a bag slung over her shoulder, grinning like a fool. Robert welcomed her in, told her to make herself comfortable, and has so far left us alone in my room.

“There was some work emergency,” I tell her. “They asked her to come in today, but I think she’s coming back tonight.”

“What does she do again?” Riley pulls books from her bag. Not textbooks—romance novels. I stare at them, but she doesn’t seem to notice until she has four spread out around her.

“What?” she questions.

I just shake my head at her. “She’s some sort of corporate liaison for merging companies. She explained it once, but it kind of went over my head. There’s a lot of legal stuff she deals with, but also I think she acts like a therapist for the CEOs losing their jobs.”

Or, as Robert once said, a rich adult’s mother.

“Did she work with Caleb’s dad’s company?”

I blink. “Huh?”

“When it was bought out.” Riley leans forward. “I was looking into it the other night. Was she the one who helped negotiate the Ashers’ jobs?”

I don’t even remember the company selling. “I don’t really know what happened with that. When did it happen?”

She clears her throat, sitting up straighter. “I’ve done my research. Prepare to be blown away. Okay, so, Benjamin Asher was a big insurance and real estate mogul. He basically had a foothold in most of Rose Hill. His insurance company was bought out by Prize Industries, but they kept him on as a vice president of something or other after the merge. Some articles made it sound like a sympathy job. As if they didn’t really want him around, and he didn’t do shit, but they couldn’t get rid of him.”

“So Caleb’s dad sold the company and negotiated to keep a well-paying job, on top of a payout?” I ask.

“You didn’t know about that? I think it happened when you were still around.”

“I don’t remember my parents talking about it,” I say faintly. I’m sure they must’ve discussed it. The Ashers would’ve rocketed from wealthy into billionaire status, right? A personal chef—ha, they could’ve hired four personal chefs.

“I don’t know what to believe about the past or the present. It’s all just so confusing.” I rub my temples. “I keep having these dreams, and Caleb kind of inferred that one was actually a memory…”

My head hurts. Literally. The pulse of pain is right behind my eyes. All I want to do is climb into bed and pretend none of this is happening.

“What about your dad?” Riley asks.

I jerk back. “What about him?”

“I mean, your mom left, right? She was a drug addict. It’s what people at school say.”

“That’s true,” I admit.

“And your dad’s in prison.”

“What’s your point?”

She holds up her hands in surrender, and I realize… I’m snapping at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s a sensitive subject.” I frown. “I know you’re not asking to be cruel.”

“What did he go for?” she asks. “There’s a chance he didn’t want to leave you.”

I think back. I wasn’t allowed to go to his trial back then, and I only remember snippets of what I picked up from my foster family watching the news. Even then, they’d turn it off if they realized I was there.

“He went to prison for something to do with drugs. My case worker said he was dealing and probably got my mom addicted.”

Riley doesn’t reply, but there’s pity smeared across her face.

“Don’t, please.”

“It isn’t⁠—”

My glare stops her short.

She hangs her head. “I’m sorry. It’s a shitty situation, and I don’t know how you deal with it all without being a mess. I admire you for it, but as your best friend, I ache for you.”

I soften. That is incredibly sweet of her.

I take her hand. “I’m sorry, too. I’m just used to pity… not sympathy. Or even worse, empathy.” I smile.

She laughs. “Never pity.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, so, what are these books about?”

She smiles and goes through the synopsis of each one. On the last book, she confesses she hasn’t read it and reads the blurb on the back aloud. When she recites that the heroine has cancer, Riley’s face goes carefully blank for a moment. She keeps reading, then clears her throat and sets it down.

“What was that?” I ask.

“What?”

“The book mentioned cancer, and you reacted weird.”

She chews her lower lip. “Oh, that? Mom had it. But she’s fine now. In remission.” She forces a smile. “She has six-month checkups, but for a while it was a big thing.”

I sit next to her. “The school knew?”

“I missed a lot of school my freshmen year. Someone found out and spread it around that Mom was going to die.”

She pauses.

“Eli, actually.”

I wince. “He told people…?”

“He wasn’t very nice. But she didn’t die, and that humiliating moment faded.”

“Still,” I say under my breath.

“I’m not feeling any of these books. How about a movie and popcorn?”

“Deal.”

And that’s just what we do. We finish off a carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream with Robert. Lenora comes home and joins us, murmuring how glad she was to finally be back, and catches the end of the rom-com.

Riley goes to the bathroom, and I step into my room. The curtains are closed, the window firmly shut.

Unexpected disappointment coasts through me, and then relief a moment later.

He had texted me that something came up. Don’t go to the scrimmage game, he said, and then promised we’d do something fun. Then, his something.

His see you Monday.

Did he do that just so I would die of curiosity? Not knowing where he is or what he’s doing tugs at my brain. It has since Friday afternoon. A full twenty-four hours of Caleb being off the radar.

Me

Are you okay?

A single text. Just to check.

He can’t sneak in tonight, not with Riley sharing my bed. Unfortunately, this won’t be the first time I’ve been let down by him not breaking into my room.

Stupid heart. Stupid childhood.

Stupid bracelet, glaring at me from my dresser.

I pick it up, intending to put it in my drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. But once it’s in my hand, I can’t let it go. He really did find someone to do a good job. The threads are protected by the cage. For the first time, I think of the irony.

Did he get it?

That we’ve imprisoned each other in a life sentence of heartache.

I keep the bracelet in my fist when Riley finishes in the bathroom, and we trade places. I carefully set it down to brush my teeth and wash my face, but it’s right back in my grip again when I head to bed.

My heart and my mind are at war—to love him or to hate him. How can I possibly choose which one is right?