Wicked Promises

by L A Cotton

  I was at war with myself. Part of me knew I deserved more, knew whatever we’d once had was destroyed. But then my conscience, the part of me who loved Nick with everything I was, wanted me to give him a chance to explain. To try to fix this.

  Fix us.

  There wasn’t only me to think of anymore. There was a baby who deserved the best start in life; two parents who loved him or her unconditionally.

  My hands stroked my stomach as I sat there, staring out at the ocean, my thoughts a jumbled mess. Even if I did give Nick another chance, we were due to leave for college. I couldn’t start classes now, what would be the point? And could I really ask Nick to give up his dream of studying music production so he could take care of me and our baby? Did I even want that?

  God, there was so much to think about.

  So much I didn’t want to think about.

  But I knew I couldn’t hide forever. Sooner or later I was going to have to face reality. For now, though, I was content watching the waves crash gently onto the shore, dreaming of the future I’d always wanted, but would never have now.

  Chapter 4

  JB

  I watched her hurry away from me, as if I was some monster she had to escape.

  Fuck.

  What had I been thinking, checking her out like that when she was obviously upset? But I’d been surprised when I’d stumbled across the couple arguing, only to find Summer Stone-Prince standing there with tears in her eyes and pain in her expression.

  The youngest Stone-Prince sibling was all grown up now. How long had it been since I’d last seen her? Two years? Three? She’d always been the quietest of the bunch. Her eldest brother, Maverick Prince, wasn’t much of a talker, but he’d been a moody son of a bitch back when we were in high school. Then there was Kyle Stone, resident joker with a passion for life and football. We’d played for the Wicked Bay Wreckers together. He was the complete opposite to Maverick but then they didn’t share any DNA, so that probably explained it. I’d liked Kyle. Had kept my distance for obvious reasons—number one being the bad blood between me and Prince. Macey Prince was much like her brother, surly and mean with claws sharper than a tiger. But Summer... yeah, she’d never fit the Stone-Prince mold. Kept her head low and her nose clean. And until tonight, I’d never looked twice at her.

  My chest rumbled with laughter as I took a slow jog toward the ocean.

  Oh, how times changed.

  High school felt like a hundred years ago. But here I was, back in Wicked Bay, licking my wounds—and pride—and apparently rescuing blue-eyed beauties that were far too pure and innocent for a guy like me.

  I glanced back over to The Shack’s parking lot, hoping to catch another glimpse of Summer but she was long gone. Too bad. I wouldn’t have minded talking to her some more; finding out what her brothers were up to these days. I’d heard Maverick was playing basketball for Steinbeck University, and Kyle had just finished his freshman year with USC. The jammy fucker had already made waves in the NCAA. Tipped to be one of the best running backs the Trojans had ever seen.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, slowing to a halt. “Yeah?”

  “Son, is that really any way to answer a call?”

  “What’s up, Dad?” I gritted my teeth, anticipation rippling up my spine.

  “It’s good news. I talked to Coach Salamander and they’re giving you the month.”

  “A month...” Fuck, it wasn’t long enough. My shoulder winced in protest as if it heard every word coming out of my father’s mouth.

  “JB, this is good news. Stick with the PT program, keep your head down, let your body heal, and you’ll be ready.”

  “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe I should redshirt for the—”

  “Absolutely not,” he grunted. “Redshirting your junior year would be a mistake, Son.” He ended the call as if that was that. But it wasn’t his football career, or body for that matter, on the line.

  I’d torn my rotator cuff in a scrimmage at the end of sophomore year. Surgery had fixed it, but recovery was long, putting me out of all summer camps and practice. If I didn’t show up to the first day of official practice in September, I could kiss my football career goodbye. I knew. Dad knew it. We all fucking knew it. Coach was already pulling a huge favor, at the request of the President and my father.

  I rolled my shoulder back, focusing on the pinch that followed. Belinda, AKA The Sadist, my physical therapist, had given me a rap sheet of exercises to build my strength after almost two months out of action. But nothing cleared my head like jogging on the beach just as the sun began to set on the horizon.

  After doing a couple of laps of the shore, I pulled my Sabres jersey up and wiped the sweat from my face, before dropping down onto the sand. My muscles screamed in protest, pain radiating deep inside. But it was a necessary evil. While I was concerned I wouldn’t be fit enough once the season kicked off, it didn’t mean I wouldn’t work my ass off to give myself a fighting chance.

  My cell phone vibrated again, and I dug it out my pocket.

  Sasha: Any news?

  I dropped back onto my good arm and typed a reply.

  Me: I should make the season.

  Sasha: Thank God! Imagine if you had to redshirt...

  With a groan, I lay back in the sand and rubbed my temples. Sasha was my... well, it was complicated. She wasn’t my girlfriend, I wasn’t looking for that; but we did hook-up regularly and as far I was aware, she wasn’t seeing anyone else. And I was kinda over fucking anything in a skirt. But I wasn’t a fool. Sasha, being a cheerleader for the Sabres, liked the credibility fucking a football player gave her. It didn’t matter that we weren’t together, not really. She’d put her stamp on me and I’d kind of gone along with it because it was easier than dealing with all the other jersey chasers.

  My cell vibrated again, and I smirked at her insistence.

  Sasha: Will you be back for orientation?

  Me: Unlikely. My old man pulled some strings so I can finish up my PT here.

  Sasha: What about classes?

  Me: I’ll figure something out.

  In other words, Dad would call up San Diego University’s President and smooth things over with a fat cheque and a ‘have a nice day’.

  Sasha: I miss you.

  My fingers hovered over the screen. It was shitty not to reply, but Sasha knew the deal. Knew I didn’t want anything more and she said she was cool with that. I shoved my cell phone back in my pocket and stared up at the sky. The clouds looked like cotton candy streaked with pink from the sun.

  One month.

  If I was going to be game ready, I had my work cut out for me.

  THE HARD WORK STARTED the next afternoon at my appointment with The Sadist.

  “Stretch, JB. You’ve got to stretch,” Belinda groaned, her hard eyes offering little in the way of encouragement as I tried to lift my arm from its outstretched horizontal position and raise it above my head. Sweat beaded across my forehead, my teeth clenched behind my lips, as I tried desperately to push beyond the wall of pain crippling me.

  “That’s it, go on, you can—”

  My arm dropped to my side, a huge puff of air slipping from my lips as I sank back into the chair. “It’s no fucking use.”

  “Language,” she snapped, shooting me her trademark death-stare. “Are you a quitter, JB?”

  “Shit, Belinda, I’m trying.”

  “Your father isn’t paying me for you to try; he’s paying me to get results.”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I grumbled, running a hand over my shoulder and down my back. I’d overdone it. I could feel it. The deep burn, the tenderness when I smoothed my fingers over the site of my surgery.

  “Go home and ice it. That’s an order.”

  “You mean ice doesn’t come included with your hefty price tag?”

  “Get out of here, before I change my mind and pull out the resistance bands.” A slight hint of a smile played on her lips.

  I fake shuddered,
smirking at her, despite the knot in my stomach. I hated those fucking things. Give me a weight bench or chest press any day of the week. But as she kept reminding me, I wasn’t ready for that.

  “I’d be lying if I said I look forward to seeing you in a couple of days.”

  “Goodbye, JB,” she called out, busying herself with some paperwork. A full report for my father, no doubt. He was more invested in my recovery than I was, but then he had a reputation to uphold. I just wanted to play football.

  I left Belinda’s place downtown and pulled on my ball cap. Mom would be expecting me home for dinner, but I needed to walk, to keep busy, because Christ only knew it had been a mind-numbing few weeks. Before I realized where I was, The Shack came into view, and beyond it, the Bay. And sitting there, in the same spot as yesterday, was little Summer Stone-Prince.

  Going over there was probably a bad fucking idea, but my legs had a mind of their own. “Can I sit?” I asked.

  “JB?” She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as she stared out at the ocean.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine,” she said without looking at me. “You can sit.”

  “I’m guessing from your grim expression, you and your guy didn’t work things out?”

  Summer glanced at me, doubt glittering in her eyes. “You really want to know?”

  Shrugging, and immediately regretting the small action, I said, “Try me.”

  “Are you okay? You seem... hurt.” Her voice fell away at the end. So unsure and uncertain. Nothing like the feisty girl I’d stumbled across yesterday. This was more like the Summer I remembered.

  “Shoulder injury.”

  “Oh, is it bad?” She finally gave me her blue eyes and a strange sensation hit me square in the chest.

  Shake it off, man, she’s hurting. But I was only human, and she was fucking gorgeous. Not to mention I hadn’t fucked anything but my left hand in a really long time.

  “I had surgery before the summer, but it’ll heal.” Hopefully.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. These things happen. You were about to tell me—”

  “I don’t think I can forgive him.”

  “But you want to?” My chest tightened.

  “Honestly?” She ran her fingers through the sand, and I wondered if she realized she was tracing a heart over and over. “I don’t think I want to. I mean, he basically ruined everything we had. How am I supposed to trust him again? To be sure he won’t... do that again?”

  What was that saying? Once a cheater, always a cheater. But somehow, I didn’t think she wanted to hear that right now, so I said, “I sense a but somewhere in all of this.”

  “It’s complicated.” Summer let out a little sigh.

  “Isn’t it always?”

  Silence washed over us. I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was doing. But the second I saw her sitting there, I’d felt a pull. Maybe it was because we were both lost.

  Yeah, that was it.

  “We’re supposed to move to college together next week.”

  “Shit.”

  “And...” she let out another soft sigh, swallowing whatever it was she had been about to say. “I know why I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself, but what about you, JB?”

  Fuck. The way she said my name... I needed to get laid and fast. Maybe I was too hasty cutting Sasha off. Maybe if I asked really nice, she’d drive down here and—

  Ah shit, who was I kidding? That would only lead to all kinds of complications I didn’t need right now.

  “I’m the first-string quarterback for the San Diego Sabres and we have a real shot at the championship this season. It’s kind of a big deal.”

  “Do they think you’ll be healed in time?”

  “It’s about fifty-fifty right now. I’m fit, that’s not the issue. But a rotator cuff injury can be complicated. A lot of players never get the full range of movement back and it’s my throwing arm.”

  As if a shoulder injury wasn’t bad enough, of course it had been my fucking throwing arm.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I picked up a stone from the sand and rolled it between my fingers before throwing it toward the shore. It landed but was quickly washed away by the tide. Just like my hopes of a career in football.

  “What will you do if you can’t play football?”

  “I’ll have to redshirt the season, probably lose my spot to another player next season. It’s a clusterfuck.”

  “So, what’s plan B?”

  “Plan B?” My eyes slid to hers, the air leaving my lungs as she gazed over at me, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips.

  “Yeah, what do you want to do if football doesn’t work out?”

  I sank back into the sand, dragging a hand down my face. It was the question I’d pushed to the back of my mind ever since hearing the doctor say I’d torn my cuff.

  “I’m doing a kinesiology degree. If the dream goes up in smoke, I can always be a fitness trainer or physical therapist.”

  “Well, I hope you’re healed in time to play.”

  “Me too.” Me fucking too. My stomach growled and Summer smothered a laugh.

  “I think you’re hungry.”

  “I could eat a horse. Hey, I don’t suppose you want to...” My head flicked in the direction of The Shack, and I was already imagining the double cheese and bacon burger I could be eating. But when my eyes moved back to Summer, she’d gone pale.

  “I, uh... that’s probably not a good idea.”

  My stomach sank. “Yeah, no. Of course,” I choked out. “I just thought—”

  “You know.” She smiled wistfully. “You’re nothing like I remembered.”

  “Oh yeah, and what do you remember?” It came out far gruffer than I intended.

  “I remember my brother hated you. He said—”

  “Okay, let’s not go down memory lane.” My expression was tight. “I don’t think we’ll find anything good there.” I forced a smile when her eyes narrowed a little. “We were young and stupid. But me and Maverick buried the hatchet.”

  Okay, that was a stretch. But after I’d helped him and Lo out of a tricky situation a couple of years ago, we’d called a truce.

  “And Caitlin?” Summer went on. “Are you two still close?”

  I winced, the small action shooting bolts of pain through my shoulder.

  “I’d rather not talk about my sister.” We’d always be related, yeah, but I couldn’t deny I was relieved when she’d moved to Florida for college last year. Caitlin had caused a lot of heartache for a lot of people, Maverick and Lo included.

  My stomach rumbled again, and Summer laughed. An honest to God laugh. It sounded good on her. “I think you should probably see to that.”

  “You sure I can’t tempt you? It’s on me.”

  “Thank you, but I should probably head home.” She got up, and I found myself searching for something to say to keep her here.

  What the hell?

  “You know,” she smiled down at me. “You’re a good guy, JB. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  And then she was gone, and I was sat there wondering what the fuck had just happened.

  Chapter 5

  Summer

  I walked away from JB feeling relieved and disappointed all at the same time. Relieved not to have his eyes staring into mine, silently asking me questions I didn’t have the answers to. Disappointed that, with every step, I felt more alone than ever. Which was crazy. I was pregnant with another guy’s baby. The guy who was supposed to be my forever. No amount of charm was going to change that.

  But sitting there with him, a guy I’d never talked to before, was kind of freeing. He didn’t know about me or my situation. He had no vested interest or opinions. I didn’t feel like I was lying to him, withholding some great secret, because JB was nothing to me.

  No one.

  And that was what I needed right now.

  My cell
phone vibrated, and I dug it out of my jean short pocket. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” Lo’s voice filled the line. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t do that,” she sighed. “Not with me. Maverick isn’t here, he’s at the gym. I’m alone. We can talk.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.” I unlocked my car and slid inside, dropping my head back against the rest.

  “I still can’t believe he—”

  “Believe it. It hurts, Lo. It hurts so much.” Tears spilled out of my eyes, running down my cheeks. “We had our whole lives planned out.”

  “I know, Sum, I know. Do you need me to—”

  “No, no. I’ve got this.”

  “Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now.” When I disagreed, she went on. “Have you decided what to do about college?”

  “I’m not going, I can’t.”

  “Oh, Summer. Don’t make any hasty decisions. This is your entire future—”

  “It was my future. I can’t even think about being there, knowing he’s there too. I can’t do it.” I sniffled, fighting the urge to break apart.

  “Shit, I hate him for this, you know. For doing something so bloody stupid.”

  I smiled at her British slip. Lo had lived in Wicked Bay for three years now, but her accent was still obvious.

  “Maverick said you fainted. I know you’re upset, Sum, but no guy is worth making yourself ill over.”

  “I didn’t... it wasn’t like that.” The words danced on the tip of my tongue. It would be so easy to tell her the truth. To say the words I’d not yet said to another. But I knew she would eventually let it slip to Maverick and he’d tell Kyle and the two of them would kill Nick with their bare hands. And then my baby would grow up without a father.

  God.

  What was I going to do?

  “Summer?” Lo’s voice was laced with concern. “Is everything—”

  “I should go,” I said, suddenly unable to breathe. “But I’ll call you, okay?”