Damaged Elite (The Darlington Elite Book 2)

by Waverly Alexander

  14

  Zach

  Darcey was probably murdered, Cassandra might not wake up, the police are trying to frame us for shit we didn’t do, there’s a secret baby plotline that can’t possibly end well for anyone, and now Henry wants us to tell Tommy about his sex tape.

  Fucking fantastic.

  We have a game tonight, but I’ve never been so disinterested in hockey in my life. There’s too much on my mind, and it’s hard to get into the game when I’m not sure if Coach or his boys are going to ambush us at any moment. And just this morning Henry brought up our mandatory piss tests. Knowing him, he’s been concerned for a while but never said anything. None of us do any of that shit, but he thinks that might be Coach’s angle because he can’t get us for anything else. They’re getting more desperate, so I’m starting to feel like it could be any day now.

  I head down to the basement to get this sex tape talk over with because there’s no easy way to tell him. As much as Tommy talks about how many panties he’s dropped, I don’t think a nonconsensual sex tape is his idea of a good time. My head is pounding, and I think it’s from no sleep last night. Those cops really fucked with my head. They’re not some punks on campus we can threaten or beat the shit out of—they have connections, and could potentially frame us for shit we don’t even know about. So after our little tete-a-tete in the driveway, I didn’t sleep a minute last night. Some of that was probably due to the unexpected visit, but the way that one fucker was looking at Kennedy like he wanted to do some sadistic shit to her was what really bothered me about the whole encounter.

  I’m so lost in my thoughts about Kennedy that I don’t even realize I’ve already made it down the stairs until I almost run into Tommy. I sigh. I’ve gotta get shit sorted with Kennedy, because I can’t think straight. I need her to keep me sane, and I also need to protect her. I’m the last to arrive in the basement, and I can tell by the look on Tommy’s face that he knows there’s more bad news coming his way.

  “What is it?” Tommy asks, sighing and flopping down on the ugliest floral couch of the bunch, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. “Just tell me. I have twins? Triplets? I somehow got multiple women pregnant? What is it this time?”

  “Relax,” Patrick snaps, and then reaches out to pat him on the back, in an extremely uncharacteristic display of affection. Shit, after that Tommy is going to think we’re about to tell him he has a week to live or something.

  “Look, man, you’re not fucking dying,” Miles pipes up from the corner of the couch. He looks like shit, still sporting prominent hollows underneath his eyes. “It could be a lot worse, is all I’m saying.” He leans his head back against the couch and rubs his palms over his face. He huffs, “Sorry. The nurse who’s been letting me in to see Cassandra got fired, and I’m irritable.”

  I glance over at Henry, who is already watching Miles. I’m wondering what we’re going to do about the game tonight because we can’t leave him here like this, and he can’t play hockey acting like an extra from the Walking Dead.

  “Aw, shit, I’m sorry, man,” Tommy says sincerely because that’s who he is. Even when he’s sitting here waiting for the axe to drop, he’s worried about Miles.

  Patrick stands up and moves over to lean against the wall near the gym door, stomping to convey his agitation. “Henry, I get you’re trying to be delicate here, but I’m getting antsy and it’s not even about me.”

  “Those listening devices I found weren’t the only things planted in the frat house,” Henry says, leaning casually against the back of the chair facing the fireplace. He has fucking nerves of steel. “There were cameras, too. We think they’re not only making their own produced sex tapes, but circulating these undercover videos of us, too.”

  “Christ, Henry. Spit it the fuck out.” Patrick bangs his fist on the wall and gruffly says, “You’ve got a sex tape, Tommy.”

  Henry smirks, and I’m eighty percent sure he drew all of that out so Patrick would jump in and break the news.

  Tommy groans, throwing his head back against the couch.

  “We don’t know who’s seen it or who released it. It was sent to Henry anonymously, and we think they might have them on all of us and this was a warning,” I add, trying to soften the blow because sometimes when Patrick drops some news on you, it feels like a kick to the gut. And Tommy’s had his fair share of those lately.

  “Tapes of some of us,” Henry clarifies because he wouldn’t be so reckless as to let a random girl in his dorm room.

  “Who was on the tape with me?” Tommy asks quietly, and it’s never a good sign when he’s quiet. “I don’t want anyone thinking I agreed to that shit, or worse—released it myself.”

  “Jackie,” I say before Patrick can cut in with anything else. I know why he’s pissed, and it has everything to do with him not knowing if Everly was on one of the videos with him and if anyone’s seen it. I’d be pissed if a video of Kennedy was released that she didn’t want anyone seeing. But I think it will crush his entire soul if he can’t protect Everly from someone seeing what should only be his.

  “Fuck,” Tommy hisses, and almost simultaneously, there’s a rustling noise from behind the closed gym door. Before Henry can stop him, Patrick whips open the door and cocks his hand back, ready to punch whatever intruder he finds. Luckily, he redirects at the last moment when Kennedy spills into the room. His fist hits the wall and she squeals, covering her head as she falls to the ground.

  “What the fuck, Kennedy. You just almost got punched,” Patrick grits out, reaching down to help her up with a heavy sigh, as I cross the room to check her over and find out why she was hiding out in the dark gym.

  “You could have killed me!” She punches him in the stomach with what is probably all of her strength, but he doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabs both of her wrists in one of his now bloody hands and pushes her into my arms. She’s swinging at him again as soon as he lets her go, so I scoop her up, her feet dangling off the ground and ass pressed against my crotch. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love when she gets like this, like a rabid Chihuahua ready to fight a Doberman.

  “I’ll never hit her,” Patrick says, pointing at Kennedy, but maintaining direct, unblinking eye contact with me. “But I’m gonna shake the shit out of her one of these days,” he grunts, stomping over to the couch and flopping back down next to Tommy.

  I can’t help the chuckle that rumbles through my chest, because Patrick is just blowing smoke. I know if he’d accidentally hit her just then, he’d have felt really, really bad about it. He dedicates way too much time to their little games for him to actually dislike her.

  I set her down because I can’t take her struggling against my dick as she twists to get away from me and over to Patrick. I keep her tucked under my arm, mostly because I’ve missed this, and she’s too riled up right now to think twice about my proximity.

  “Why were you down here lurking in the dark?” Henry crosses his arms, studying her.

  “You’re really going to call me out for lurking?” She quirks an eyebrow, and she gets a laugh out of him because she’s right. That’d be like Patrick calling her out for her temper.

  “I was waiting for Patrick,” she snips, and instinctively I tip her chin up to look at me. I’m not her boyfriend, but it’s too deeply ingrained in me to care about why she’d be waiting in a dark room for another guy.

  “HE…” She points at Patrick, but glares up at me, saying, “put bacon in my pillowcase before I went to bed last night and then gave himself a point!”

  Patrick is belly laughing, and I’m not sure which he finds funnier—the prank or the fact that she thought she had a shot at ambushing him.

  “And you were going to what? Jump on his back and hope he fell down?” Henry’s amused by Kennedy too, and for some reason, that makes my chest swell. Henry doesn’t like anyone or anything except us. The fact that he likes her means a lot.

  “I was going to knee him in the balls,” she s
ays matter of factly, and I let her chin go because I can’t keep a straight face.

  “You’re a fucking psycho,” Patrick tells her, shaking his head, but at least he’s laughing.

  “Ridiculous,” I say with a laugh, moving her over to stand next to Henry. I tighten my arm around her again because I feel her leaning forward, like that will somehow make Patrick hear her more clearly.

  “I’ll just wait while you try to figure out why I have another point on the board,” she says calmly. Too calmly.

  “What did you do?” he barks, but she only blows him a kiss, which gets even Miles and Tommy to laugh.

  “Boys!” Everly yells through the open door at the top of the basement stairs. “You’re gonna be late for your game if you don’t hurry up!”

  “We’ll be right up, baby!” Patrick calls up, his tone softer and gentler than I’ve probably ever heard it.

  “That’s the first time tonight you haven’t sounded like you were going to bite someone’s head off,” I say. Kennedy shifts next to me, leaning her forearms against the corner of the chair. I let my hand rest on her lower back, and I don’t miss her reflexive stretch into my touch. She misses this too—the cuddling, the caressing. My hands on her.

  “How much did you hear?” Tommy changes the subject, and now he looks like he might be sick.

  “All of it, considering Patrick was yelling right on the other side of the wall,” Kennedy says, giving Patrick a pointed glare, but then softens when she looks at Tommy. “I’m so sorry all this is happening.”

  He waves her off in an “I’m okay” gesture and slouches back on the couch.

  “Are we showing up for the game or no?” Patrick asks standing and stretching his arms above his head.

  “I think we should respectfully sit this one out,” Henry says, and he glances at Miles.

  “If this is because of me, I’m fine.” He sits up but doesn’t make it a few seconds before yawning.

  “I say we tell Coach and the college to go fuck themselves,” Tommy says, standing up and reaching down to grab his phone out of his pocket. “Hockey isn’t even fun anymore. It used to be the best part of my day, and now I can’t stand even going in the ice house.”

  “Same,” Patrick agrees.

  “Oh, this is great!” Kennedy claps her hands together. “I know exactly what we can do tonight instead. Meet me upstairs in ten minutes!” Before I can stop her, she’s halfway up the stairs, yelling, “You too, Patrick, no bullshit!”

  “It’s hard to complain on nights like this,” Tommy says with a long, tired sigh as we sit in the front living room on the non-floral couches. It’s amazing to me that with everything he’s going through personally, he’s thankful for what he has.

  “I could think of a few fucking things to complain about,” Patrick growls, and I have to turn my head to keep from laughing because he’s itching to fight someone, and it’s not going to be me.

  “Oh, hush, it’s good for you! Maybe it’ll extract some of the grumpiness out of your pores,” Kennedy chirps as she leans over Miles, applying a puke-green face mask on his forehead with what she told us was a vegan brush—apparently, it wasn’t made from animal hair. I never even considered that brushes could be vegan before. Everly already coerced Patrick into letting her put one of the jet-black concoctions all over his face, even in between his eyebrows. I learned enough from watching Kennedy play with all that shit to know that it’s one of the peel-off ones, and I don’t want to be around when he figures that out. She got me with that shit one time last year, and never again.

  Everly walks back in, taking a swig of a Corona and handing another unopened one to Patrick before sitting down on his lap. Just her presence seems to calm him, and it makes me wonder if maybe that’s the difference between him and my father—and between my father and me. Patrick needs Everly, and that’s what keeps him from doing something he can’t take back when he’s angry. Is what I feel for Kennedy enough to keep me from turning on her? From losing my shit and beating her so badly not even her parents would recognize her? That’s what happened with my mom. After he was finished that last time he lost it, she needed so much facial reconstructive surgery that she didn’t even look like herself anymore.

  I rest my chin in my hand and use my fingers to cover my mouth as my eyes bounce back and forth between Patrick and Kennedy. She’s really something else. A wide smile spreads across my face as I watch her lose her balance and kneel on Miles’s thigh.

  “Watch it, Ken.” He rights her and she shrugs like it’s no big deal as she slathers his face in more goo. It hasn’t escaped me that she’s focusing on everyone except for me, and I’m fairly certain it isn’t because she’s angry at me over what’s his face. Tim. I make a face just thinking about him, but quickly brush it away. I think she’s avoiding me to let me know that whatever happens or doesn’t happen between us is going to be on her terms, and I’m starting to realize that’s a huge part of what makes her different from how my mother was with my father. She followed his every command, even if that meant letting him take his anger out on me. Kennedy would never let that shit slide. I can say that confidently. She’d run someone over before she let them hurt her child. The thought makes my heart jerk in my chest. Kennedy will be a good mom, albeit embarrassing during their teenage years.

  I lean forward in my chair, studying her, not really caring if anyone notices. She makes me a better person in so many ways. Sure, I still act like an ass sometimes, but she’s always there to tell me when I need to rein it in. And the thought of upsetting her is enough to make me stop whatever I want to do that’s a bad decision. The other day I wanted to beat Tim to a pulp. Partly because of how Tommy said he’d treated her, and partly because of masculine pride. He was teetering on the edge of the territory that I’d unfairly marked as my own, and I didn’t like it. But I didn’t act on it. I didn’t take him outside and beat him until he couldn’t remember her name. That’s the funny thing about what I’m discovering. Kennedy is the reason for every goddamn emotion I have. She brings out the aggressive side of my personality like nobody else can. But she also reins me in and makes me watch my step because I don’t want to hurt her.

  “What on earth are you thinking about?” Tommy waves his hand in front of my face. “I don’t even zone out that much when I’m thinking about Mrs. O'Conner and that tight green sweater she’s wearing in her Facebook picture.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and he looks even more ridiculous because of the avocado smeared all over his face.

  “Shut the fuck up, I’m not in the mood.” Miles sounds nothing like himself, and Kennedy must sense he’s on the verge of snapping because she hops off the arm of the chair he’s sitting in and makes her way over to me. It always seems to be that way. When she’s unsure, she seeks me out, whether it's consciously or not, I’ll probably never know. But I do know that it makes me feel better than when I score a game ending goal.

  “Fuck man, I was just trying to lighten the mood with all this heavy shit,” Tommy snaps back.

  “Shit hurts, man, let it out,” Patrick chimes in, and Everly rewards him with a hair tousle. “All I’m saying is, if you feel something, say it. Because you could wake up one day, and it’s already too late.”

  Well, fuck me sideways. She is domesticating the sonofabitch, and I think my jaw must be on the floor.

  Miles ignores Patrick, looking down at his phone like he seems to do a lot lately. I wonder if he’s hoping that Cassandra will wake up and text him, the way I check my phone throughout the day, wondering what weird meme Kennedy will send me just to make me tell her I think she’s ridiculous.

  Kennedy moves to stand in front of me, brush in hand, looking down at me with a soft, amused expression. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking, that I’m trying to be better for her. I reach out to rest my hand on the back of her thigh, just wanting to feel her soft skin against my fingertips. But she’s still not having it. She sidesteps quickly and begins painting my face with the avocado clay bullshit. She�
��s leaning down, and all I can smell is her bodyspray and that shit would make me sell my fucking soul. Her top drapes slightly with the way she’s leaning, but I’m the only one with the view of her cleavage.

  She smiles gleefully, and it’s clear to me then that she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. She’s flipped my own game around on me. I don’t have the cards or the pieces, and the board is on fire.

  15

  Kennedy

  “Tell me what the extra point is for,” Patrick demands when he picks me up from class, but I just cock my head to the side, giving him a dimpled smile. He got stuck picking me up today because Zach went to the hospital with Miles to try and finesse their way in to see Cassandra.

  “You haven’t figured out what I did yet?” I start to walk away toward the ice house, but he grabs me by the backpack and halts my steps. “You’re gonna be pissed when you find out,” I taunt as Patrick gives my backpack a little shake before letting me go. We’re supposed to be meeting up with Everly and Henry in the library, but I’m not sure what for. Henry is the king of cryptic texts, and I’ve learned to just go with it at this point.

  I hold onto his forearm and practically jog to keep up with his long strides. “When are you going to stop giving Zach a bunch of shit?” he asks, and the fact that he thinks I’m the one keeping us apart makes me laugh.

  “When he realizes what a fucking catch I am,” I say in a singsong tone, causing him to glance down at me briefly, and his eyes are practically dancing with amusement.

  “Okay, champ,” he says, clearly trying to placate me.

  “Ohh, who’s that? She’s pretty.” I tug on Patrick’s arm. He stops abruptly when we see Tommy standing outside of the ice house, speaking to a woman with long brown hair and a scowl twisting her delicately beautiful features.