The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels

by Christina Benjamin

  Plus, when he thought about Sam, he thought about their night together. And that made him think about his father, and how Devon should have been by his side instead of off selfishly chasing his desires. He didn’t regret his night with Sam, but he couldn’t separate it either. Everything was a furious, confusing mess and so far, drinking was the only thing that helped dull the pain. Devon was lost and broken, but he still knew enough to keep Sam safe. And he wasn’t safe. He wanted Sam to be happy. She deserved that. But Devon would never be able to bring her happiness now.

  From his perch on the Bentley, Devon saw Zander pull up in his BMW. Zander had moved into the house after the funeral. At least the bastard had the decency to wait until his father was in the ground, Devon thought viciously as he watched Zander saunter into the house. His house. His father’s house!

  Sometimes at night, Devon heard Cara and Zander laughing. Laughing for fuck’s sake! What in the hell was there to laugh about? If Cara had ever loved his father, she wouldn’t be laughing. She would never laugh again. She would be just as destroyed as Devon. But no, she was laughing it up with Zander and planning all the ways they would redecorate his house. Like the first thought in her stupid little head was how fast could she permanently erase Henry from existence?

  Devon wished they were dead—Zander and Cara. Why did his father have to die? It wasn’t fair! Henry wouldn’t do something like this to Cara if she had died. He’d probably have erected a statue in her honor. But life wasn’t fair. And Devon was stuck with Cara and no one left who gave a shite about him.

  His phone pinged and Devon stared down at a text message.

  SAM: I’m still here.

  His finger hovered over the reply button. Christ, he missed her.

  Devon slid the phone back in his pocket. He couldn’t talk to Sam—perfect, beautiful, Sam. He would just ruin her. And if he did that, he would have nothing left to live for. He was barely hanging on as it was. If he hurt Sam, it would kill him, and he’d probably end up doing the world a favor and killing himself.

  I could easily do it, he thought looking around at all the cars in the garage. The room was sealed up tight. It would be easy. Probably only take a matter of minutes . . .

  Devon hopped out of the car and quickly exited the garage before he got any other stupid ideas. He just needed another drink. Just something so he could sleep and not think for a while.

  Devon ran into Zander in the hall.

  “Jesus! You look like shite, mate,” Zander said. He was blocking Devon’s path to his room.

  “Fuck off,” Devon growled.

  “I talked to her today,” Zander said, not backing down. “She still asks about you.” He snorted. “Lord knows why?”

  “Did you tell her?” Devon asked.

  Zander shook his head and Devon felt his rage bubbling up. But then Zander spoke. “Yeah. I told her.”

  “Good,” Devon said pushing past Zander to get to his door.

  “She cried, mate. She fucking cried.”

  Devon stopped. But he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. Something inside of him was tearing and he couldn’t breathe.

  “Don’t ask me to clean up any more of your shite. From now on, if you have something to say to Sam, you say it yourself. It’s been three weeks, mate. It’s time to start picking up the pieces, or someone else will.”

  Devon snapped. It happened so fast, he didn’t even feel it at first. It barely registered that he was crushing Zander against the wall by his throat. Words were rushing out of Devon in a hot hissing voice that he didn’t recognize. “If you fucking touch her, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me, Zander. You’re dead!”

  But Zander wasn’t phased. He pushed back hard. He was shorter than Devon, but broader, built more like a pro rugby player than any teenager had the right to be. He laughed in Devon’s face. “Oh, so you do care about her, then? Because I wasn’t sure. It seems she’s not sure either.”

  “Leave her alone, Zander,” Devon growled. “She’s none of your fucking business.”

  “She is my fucking business when she’s crying on my shoulder every day about you. You’ve made her my business, making me deliver messages that you’re not man enough to. Do you know she walks to school every day, crying over you? And you don’t even care. You just sit around feeling sorry for yourself all day.”

  Devon felt pain shoot through his hand and Zander stumbled away from him, clutching his nose as blood spurted from it. Devon clutched his fist, realizing he’d punched Zander square in the face.

  Zander spit blood as he stumbled down the hall. “She’s too good for you, Dev.”

  Devon lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling. His hand was swollen and throbbing. He hadn’t bothered to get ice for it. He wondered if he broke something. It would serve him right.

  Eggsy whined at his feet. Devon rolled off the bed and opened the door, figuring the dog needed to go out. But Eggsy trotted across the hall and paced in circles in front of Sam’s door whining even louder.

  “She’s gone!” Devon shouted.

  Eggsy flattened his ears and settled on the floor, stretching out like he was prepared to stay there all night.

  “She’s not coming back, Eggsy! She left us. Everyone’s left us.”

  Eggsy lowered his head sadly and huffed out an obstinate breath.

  Devon sunk to the floor too exhausted to care that he was in a pile of dirty clothes, and he cried. He cried for his father, and how much he missed him. He cried for how much he loved Sam and for how scared he was of losing her. He cried for not being man enough to face her. He cried until he couldn’t feel anything at all.

  30

  Sam

  “Oh my God! What happened to your face?” Sam asked when she saw Zander at school the next day.

  “Devon,” he grumbled, and then winced from the pain.

  “Devon did that to you?” she asked in disbelief. She’d never seen Devon lift a finger to harm anyone! “What did you do to him?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Zander replied.

  “No-sorry-I didn’t mean . . . it’s just—”

  “It’s alright. I guess I wasn’t totally innocent.”

  “Is he okay?”

  Zander grunted. “You see my face all black and purple and you ask how’s the other bloke? Real nice, Boston.”

  Sam’s face fell.

  “Ah, come on. I’m only teasing. He’s fine. I think it did him some good to get his frustrations out.”

  “Yeah, but on your face?”

  Zander brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal that his nose looked broken. “At least he actually did something rather than sulking around all day.”

  “Is that what he does?”

  Zander shrugged. “Who knows? All I know is I guess I’m not going to the Grad Ball, looking like this.”

  “You don’t think it’ll look better by then?”

  “By tomorrow? No. Not unless you got a dress ugly enough to outshine my face.”

  Sam laughed, “You never know. One might exist.”

  “In your closet?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Well, anyway, if ya change your mind, here’s my number,” he said, swiping her phone and typing his number in.

  “You can NOT go to the dance with Zander!” Megan squawked. “I forbid it!”

  “You forbid it?” Sam scoffed. “What are you, Queen Cersei now?”

  “Ew, no! Everyone knows I’d be Arya Stark. Game of Thrones aside, I’m serious. You’re not going out with Zander.”

  “I didn’t say I was, Meg.”

  “But you were thinking about it.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. You’re the one who’s always telling me to go out and have fun. You’re going to be here in three weeks and I don’t even know where to take you. I’ve been to Dublin twice.”

  “I don’t care! You’re supposed to go to the dance with Devon,” Meg whined.

  “Yeah, well he doesn�
��t want to go with me,” Sam said shortly. “He won’t even talk to me.”

  “But he’s in love with you,” she protested. Megan still didn’t know about Sam and Devon’s one night of romance, but somehow she didn’t need to. She was convinced they belonged together.

  “I don’t know, Meg.”

  “I do! Just admit you love him too! I’m not blind. I spent weeks video chatting with you both and I saw the way he looked at you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How did he look at me?”

  “Like he hung every star in the sky for you.”

  Sam burst into tears, because it was true. He had looked at her like that. And she didn’t see it until it was too late. And now, Devon was gone, and she didn’t know how to get him back.

  “Shit, Sam. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  “I know. But you’re right. And now he doesn’t look at me at all. He won’t even talk to me and I haven’t seen him in almost a month. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I know, Sam. I wish I could come right now and give you a hug.”

  “Me too.” Sam sniffled. “I just want to come home. I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Don’t give up yet, Sam. I know it’s going to work out. You guys are meant to be.”

  “You don’t get it, Meg. Maybe we were, but everything’s ruined now.”

  “Sam, it’s not ruined. Everything is going to be okay. You just need to give him time and then everything will go back to how it was before.”

  “Megan, it can’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I had sex with him! And now he won’t even talk to me. Nothing is going to be okay.”

  Megan was speechless as Sam sobbed uncontrollably.

  After a while, Megan finally spoke. “Listen to me, Sam.” Her voice was soft. “I’m so sorry it happened like this. But please don’t give up on Devon. I know you both love each other.”

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for love.”

  After Sam collected herself from her tearful conversation with Megan, she went downstairs to see if there was anything to eat. Her stomach constantly felt empty and raw, but whenever she tried to eat, she lost her appetite. Still, at least going downstairs to pretend to eat gave her something to do.

  Sam’s bedroom was on the second floor of the little cottage her father rented. It was fully furnished so they were able to move right in, but after a month, she still wasn’t used to it. She felt like a nun, living a silent life of exile. Okay that was a bit dramatic—but her father was always working so she pretty much felt like she lived alone. He had an office downstairs off of the kitchen. The only other rooms were his bedroom and a tiny living room. But Sam never went in either. They only made her feel more alone. She pretty much lived in her room, making brief escapes to the kitchen for food.

  She scrounged around in the freezer. The only thing that looked edible was a frozen pizza. But pizza made her think of Devon. Pretty much everything made her think of Devon. Hunger won out. She unwrapped the pizza and put it in the oven, sulking at the counter while it baked.

  Sam’s father walked into the kitchen smiling. “Hey, honey. I thought I heard someone down here. Whatcha making?”

  “Pizza.”

  “Enough to share with your old dad?”

  “Sure.”

  He sat at the counter next to her, giving her that look. The one that meant he was trying to think of something fatherly to say. “How was your soccer game tonight?”

  “It was last night.”

  “Oh. That’s what I meant.”

  Sure. “It was fine. We won.”

  “That’s great, honey.”

  Grand. Devon would’ve said it was grand that they won.

  Damn it! Now she was thinking about Devon again and her eyes welled up. She tried to get up before her father noticed, but she already felt his hand on her arm.

  “Sam,” he said quietly. “I want you to be happy. You know that, right?”

  She wiped her eyes. “Of course, Dad.”

  “I really thought you were starting to like it here. But lately . . . I just haven’t seen you like this in a long time. And it makes me think . . .” he stopped and pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “It makes me think I did the wrong thing by bringing you here.”

  “Dad,” she whispered, praying her voice would hold out. “I really, really want to go home.”

  “Boston?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, sweetie.”

  “Okay? Really?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d try and you did. You’ve gotten straight A’s and you’re graduating next week, right?”

  “Tomorrow, Dad. Graduation is tomorrow. I’ll have my diploma.”

  “I’m proud of you, Sam. I know coming back here wasn’t easy. I guess I just hoped we were ready to come home. But maybe it was stupid to think Ireland could be home without Elizabeth.”

  Sam’s eyes spilled over. He actually said her name. Her father never spoke her mother’s name. “It wasn’t stupid, Dad.”

  He pulled her into a hug and she let him. “I love you, honey.”

  “I love you too, Dad.”

  “I swear to God, Meg! He said I can come home whenever I want!”

  Megan looked concerned. “You’re gonna wait ‘til I come to visit though, right?”

  “Yes, of course, but isn’t that the best news? I never thought I’d be so happy that Eddington murdered us with classes for their stupid early testing. But I’ll have my diploma tomorrow and after you come visit I can fly home with you!”

  “Sam, that’s amazing!”

  “I know! I’m so happy.”

  “And that’s really what you want?”

  “Yes. I just need to leave this semester behind me. It’ll be the four months we don’t talk about.”

  Megan smiled tightly. “The term-that-shall-not-be-named.”

  “Exactly!” Sam smiled. “I feel like I can breathe again.”

  “You’re sure about leaving Ireland, and everything in it?” Megan asked.

  “Yes, Meg. It’s for the best.”

  “You know you’re going to have to tell him.”

  “I know. But I don’t want to think about Devon right now. I just want to be happy. And I know you think I shouldn’t, but I might go to the Grad party thing. At least for a little while. Just to celebrate that this is finally over and I’ll have my life back.”

  Meg forced a smile. “You should. You deserve to be happy, Sam.”

  31

  Devon

  Devon felt twitchy and hollow as he drove himself to school Friday morning. The headmaster had sent a note home to Cara requesting Devon show up for final exams today if he wanted to be eligible for graduation. Apparently, even Eddington thought Devon should be done mourning by now.

  He hadn’t kept up with any of his course work even though Zander had been bringing it home. Devon didn’t see the point in returning to Eddington. His fate was sealed. He didn’t need a diploma to be chained to his father’s company for the rest of his life. He tried arguing with Cara about it, but she told him attendance today was mandatory and threatened to have Thorton drive him to Eddington if Devon wouldn’t do it himself.

  Devon gave in. At least if he drove himself he could leave as soon as exams were over, or maybe even sneak out early. Once Devon pulled onto campus he knew he’d made a mistake. He should’ve taken a different car. Everyone recognized his Defender and a group of girls were already pointing and whispering.

  He sighed and took another sip of liquid courage in the form of his father’s best whiskey. It would take all the strength Devon had left to get out of his car. One sip wasn’t enough. It didn’t even keep his hands from shaking anymore. If anything, the whiskey just made his pounding headache even worse.

  Devon waited until the bell rang and the parking lot was empty before heading inside. He shielded his eyes from the bright morning light when he got out of the ca
r. He hadn’t been outside much these days and he’d stupidly forgotten his sunglasses. He glowered up at the cloudless sky. It was a rare blue-sky morning, just like it had been on the last morning he’d spent with Sam. A flicker of anger for everything he’d lost flared up within Devon’s chest as he thought about that day—the day everything he loved had been stolen from him.

  Why? Why had he been given those few short hours of bliss if it was all going to be taken away? He’d rather have had nothing at all, than been left with an ashen husk where his heart used to be.

  Devon glared up at the bright sky in disgust and shook his head.

  Even the sun is against me, he thought as he trudged toward the school, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets.

  Devon was surprised he was still standing by lunch. He’d bombed his first exam and skipped the second one because he knew Sam would be there. Instead he hid in the lavatory and drank the rest of his father’s whiskey.

  He hadn’t even meant to go to lunch, but somehow he ended up in the cafeteria by habit. It was like his body was just going though the motions.

  Devon was following the flow of students filing past rows of tables in a trance until something vivid caught his attention. Laughter. But not just any laughter—Sam’s laughter. Devon honed in on the sound, his feet carrying him toward it. But what he saw stopped him dead. He was a boulder in a stream—students parting on either side to get by him, jostling him in the process. But all the while, Devon stood stone still and watched Sam—his Sam—laughing with Zander.

  And then, he broke.

  The last remaining thread that had been holding Devon together finally frayed beyond repair. And when it snapped, Devon lunged.

  Sam

  Sam was standing next to Zander’s lunch table, which consisted of half the boys’ soccer team. She was listening to him talk animatedly about plans for Grad night. Ever since she told him she wanted to go, he hadn’t stopped talking about it.