King of Regret: An Academy Surprise Baby Romance (Boys of Almadale Book 2)

by Jacie Lennon

  This night has been weird, scary, and strange, but I can almost understand the reason they are fighting. I don’t think that Brock is that worried about me. I think he underwent something frightening, and now, he has all of this adrenaline to work off. At least, that’s the point I want to believe. If I believe he’s pummeling his twin brother because of his fear for me, then we’ll have a different and serious thought process to work through.

  “All right,” I say, swinging my legs around in the seat and leveling the brawling men on the ground with a stare.

  Mooney is standing beside their forms, arms crossed and mouth set in a grim line. No one pays me any attention, and I glance over to see Corbin on his phone, not even watching his friends.

  “Guys,” I hiss. When they still don’t stop, I yell, “Stop being idiots and get in the truck. We have to get out of here.”

  I watch them stand, and Bodhi wipes under his nose while Brock touches his ribs lightly.

  “Damn idiots,” Mooney says again.

  I scoot back over in the center as he gets back behind the wheel. I don’t look at Brock as he climbs in on my other side, but I can feel his large thigh pressing against mine, and his breaths are hard and fast as he tries to recover from the fight.

  “How’s your foot?” he asks me gruffly.

  I look up into his intent gaze. It sends an odd sensation through me, like maybe I was wrong about why he punched Bodhi. But maybe not.

  “I’m fine,” I say, turning to face forward again and not giving in to the sudden urge I have to lay my head over on his shoulder and clasp my small hand around his large one.

  15

  Brock

  We get back to Mooney’s Bar with no one speaking about anything. I feel a pang of regret for launching over the backseat and laying into Bodhi, but some strange, almost-primal instinct came over me when I saw the blood seeping out of Peyton’s foot. I loved the feeling of holding her in my arms, even through the anger.

  As Mooney comes to a stop and parks in the back alleyway, I open the door, immediately sweeping Peyton into my arms again before she can try to get out on her own.

  “I can walk,” she protests.

  I don’t say anything as I stride toward the doorway, which is beginning to be a welcome sight. I wait for Mooney to open it and stalk inside, setting Peyton in the chair behind the desk and kneeling to take her bare foot in my hands.

  “Brock, I’m fine,” she says and gingerly takes her foot back.

  I look up into her flushed face, an unreadable expression in her eyes as she looks at me, and then she turns her gaze toward the others standing awkwardly behind me.

  “Do you have an emergency kit or something that I can clean her foot with?” I look at Mooney, and he scratches one cheek. I don’t like the assessing look he’s giving me, and I narrow my eyes.

  “Yeah, in the bathroom cabinet. I’ll get it,” he says, turning to retrieve it.

  I look back at Peyton. She’s not looking at me; instead, her attention is on the wall behind me.

  “Hey,” I say softly, tapping one finger on her sweatpants-covered kneecap until she looks at me. “Can I clean your foot?” I study her, the way her fiery eyes dim and shutter, making her look different than her usual confident demeanor.

  I glance behind me when she doesn’t answer, seeing Bodhi outright staring at me and Corbin standing on the stairs by the door, glancing outside.

  “Can you give us a minute?” I bark, and they freeze for a moment before stepping out into the alleyway.

  “You didn’t have to send them out like they are your royal subjects, King,” Peyton says.

  I would almost consider it demeaning and sarcastic if not for the smile that tilts up one corner of her mouth.

  “I did,” I reply. “You didn’t feel comfortable.”

  “My feelings aren’t your concern.” Her smile disappears, and I can feel her leg tense from where my finger is still touching her.

  “They are tonight. And maybe for a while,” I remind her, keeping my eyes on her face before a throat clears behind us.

  I turn, taking the kit that Mooney is holding out to me. His eyes dart between me and Peyton before he straightens up.

  “I’m going to go check on the bar. I’ll be back soon.”

  He pins me with a look, and I take it to mean no funny business while he’s gone. Even if Peyton wasn’t sitting here with a hurt foot, I wouldn’t dream of touching a hair on her head. Not after the week from hell she probably had. I open the kit and busy myself with sifting through the supplies.

  “You never answered me,” I say to Peyton and glance back up at her.

  “What was the question?”

  “Can I clean your foot?”

  “You have the ability, yes,” she says, the smile back, and I match it with one of my own.

  “Sorry, grammar police. May I clean your foot?”

  “Yes, you may,” she says, extending her leg toward me and rolling her sweatpants leg up.

  I reach out and slowly unwind the dirty bandage around her foot. Most of it isn’t even covering the cut anymore, and I can see dirt packed around from her running barefoot in the woods.

  “Are you—were you …” I begin, glancing away, not able to find the right words to say.

  “Spit it out, Montgomery,” she says, and I find her eyes again.

  “Did they hurt you? You were with them for a while.” I try to ask it delicately, but I need to know what we are working with here.

  “No, they didn’t touch me,” she says.

  The sharp stab of relief that blossoms in my chest surprises me. I didn’t realize that I’d been holding my breath.

  I swiftly stand and reach down for her again, picking her up as she gasps.

  “You’ve got to quit doing that,” she murmurs, latching an arm around my neck again.

  “Your wound is too dirty for the plain alcohol swabs in the kit. I’ve got to clean it in the sink.”

  I carry her through the doorway of the bathroom Mooney went in earlier, off to the side of the office. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the counter is large enough to set her down onto it.

  I turn the water on, checking it until it’s warm, and then I move her foot underneath the stream.

  “Is that comfortable?” I look up to see her focus completely on me.

  As close as we are standing, I can see the flecks of green in her brown eyes, and then my body takes over before my mind can catch up. Without thinking, I hook one hand behind her neck, dragging her face to mine, and capture her mouth with my lips.

  The kiss in the woods wasn’t enough, and I know now that it might never be enough. I was so blind that night all those months ago, standing at that party, thinking it would be a one-night stand. Thinking that I would forget about her. Thinking she didn’t matter. I don’t know that we were ever destined for one night together, and fate made sure of that.

  Peyton doesn’t move for a moment as I slant my lips over hers, pressing in harder and touching my tongue to her closed mouth. We stand frozen, only the sound of my harsh breathing and the water trickling over her foot as our background noise and it’s deafening to my ears. I can’t explain what has come over me. I’ve never acted like this before. It’s no doubt the reason the guys couldn’t stop staring at me.

  Finally, she parts her lips, and it’s all the invitation I need to sweep in with my tongue and devour her. I can’t help myself. I’m unhinged, crazy. The excitement of the night comes crashing down over me, and I have to hold her, touch her, and convince myself that she’s okay, that the baby is hopefully okay, and that we are still here, together.

  I feel her tense up and draw her mouth away, her forehead resting on mine for a second. I extend one hand, brushing a lock of her dirty-blonde hair behind her ear, and then search her face, letting my hand run down her cheek as I lower it.

  “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  I watch as she can’t meet my eyes. She stares at her foot in the sink, worryi
ng her bottom lip, and I hook a finger under her chin.

  “Hey. Look at me.” I turn the water off.

  Her brown eyes meet mine, and they flash with some emotion that I can’t decipher.

  “What are we doing?” She exhales a long breath as she continues to meet my gaze.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But I want to continue doing it.” I turn the water off.

  She’s smiling when I look up, and this time, she pulls my head to hers. Her fingers wrap around my neck, pushing tendrils of my hair back.

  She meets my mouth with the fire I have come to expect from her. Hell, this girl broke out of her prison and ran into dark woods, not knowing where she was going. That takes balls. I rest my hand on her thigh and cradle her neck with my other, relishing in the hot flesh underneath my skin and the way she’s working me over with her mouth and touch. I flashback to that night we fucked, which set my life on a very different course than I’d thought it was on.

  A knock on the doorframe has me stepping back from her and looking over my shoulder.

  “Yes?” I say gruffly, frowning at Bodhi, who leans against the wood, not giving us an ounce of privacy.

  “Sorry to mess up … whatever this is,” he says, glancing between the two of us, not looking very sorry at all. “But we should probably be heading out soon. We’ve got class tomorrow.”

  “Shit. Okay.” I jerk my head, indicating for him to leave, and after a chuckle and shake of his head, he does.

  I reach for Peyton’s ankle, lifting her foot out of the way of the water as I turn it back on, waiting for it to warm up again. I crouch down, looking for some soap, and find some antibacterial stashed underneath the sink.

  I can feel Peyton’s eyes on me as I take her foot in my hand and tilt the bottom of it toward me, putting it under the warm water. She flinches as I touch the soap to the cut, gingerly dabbing around the wound and a little on top. I have no idea if that’s how I’m supposed to clean a wound, but it seems to be getting the job done.

  Once it looks free of dirt and debris, I turn the water off and dab a paper towel over her entire area, drying it off. The wound has clotted, and it’s an angry pink slash on the bottom of her foot.

  I lean down, scooping Peyton back into my arms as she sucks in a breath. Guess I should have warned her first. Once I set her back in the chair behind the desk, I finish caring for her foot, smearing ointment on it and wrapping it in gauze. After a final touch to her ankle, one that isn’t medically needed, I glance up into her eyes, which are pinned on me. I let my gaze drop to her lips for a moment before I stand and pick up the medical supplies.

  “Hey, thank you,” she says softly, a smile on her lips, one that reaches her eyes, and I could drown in those beautiful brown circles.

  “You’re welcome,” I say, my voice not sounding like it belongs to me.

  Mooney picks that moment to walk back into the office, his presence snuffing out any weird feelings I was putting out, and we turn to look at him. He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at us, and I swear he knows I sucked her face in the bathroom.

  My fierce need to protect her kicks in, and I glare at Mooney, a little angry that he wasn’t able to keep her safe even though I know it’s misplaced. “Peyton is coming back with us.”

  His eyes widen, and I hear a strangled sound come from behind me, where Peyton sits.

  “Excuse me?” she says, planting both hands on the armrests and pushing herself to standing, keeping her weight off her injured foot.

  “You are coming with me and the guys,” I say, this time turning to face her and daring her to argue, which she does.

  “Uh, no. You never even asked me to come with you three, and just because you demand I jump, you think I’m going to ask you how high?”

  I start to remind her that we’re the reason she’s sitting in Mooney’s office right now, but then I remember that she got out of the compound fine by herself.

  “I think that you need someone to watch—” I pause when her face goes stormy, and then I narrow my eyes at her. “That’s right. You need someone to watch over you until further notice.”

  “You aren’t my damn guardian angel,” she shoots back.

  This time, Mooney cuts in, “I think he’s right.”

  “Excuse me?” Peyton says again, which I’m beginning to learn is code for better try again.

  “It’s a good idea. You were taken from right there in our alleyway, and the next place they will look is at your home with your dad. Don’t think he will be any help with fighting them off if they come for you again. You will be safest away from here.” Mooney continues to look unaffected by her glares.

  “But … but what about school?” she sputters, her incredulous gaze bouncing back and forth between me and Mooney.

  “You can enroll back in Almadale,” I say calmly and watch the flush that rises in her cheeks.

  “Like hell I will. I hate that place.”

  I flinch, knowing my role in her hatred for Almadale.

  “Well, it’s your only option at the moment. You can’t go back to Loredo High, not while Drake is there.”

  “I was expelled from Almadale, Brock. Last time I checked, they don’t take back students who were expelled.”

  “I can get you back in.”

  There’s a long silence, and I fight back my victory grin because I know I’ve won. She just doesn’t want to admit it.

  “What about helping out at the bar?” she asks Mooney as a last-ditch effort.

  “I can’t risk you getting hurt right now. I can find another waitress. I can’t replace you as a person. Go on, put my mind at ease.” He gestures toward the door, and she huffs.

  “Fine.” She limps toward me and around the desk. I put my hand out to help support her, but she bats it away. “Don’t touch me,” she snaps.

  I glance up at Mooney, and he shakes his head at me.

  “Good luck,” he says with a salute, and I shake my head, following Peyton out into the alley.

  16

  Peyton

  The ride back to Almadale is silent. I don’t know if it’s because of the obvious tense vibes I’m giving off or if everyone has succumbed to exhaustion. My bet is on both. I have so many questions but don’t feel like voicing any of them.

  What will I do about school or a living situation? What does my future look like now that things have gotten way out of control?

  I stare out the window as we come to a stop outside of the girls’ dorm. It occurs to me that I don’t have anything with me, save for what I have on. No extra clothes, pajamas, or even a toothbrush. At least my clothes were washed a few times at the compound. I reach up and rub my eyes, the weariness almost too much. All I want to do is fall into a bed and sleep for three days … or weeks.

  Brock puts the vehicle in park and comes around to open my door. I don’t look at him, not out of meanness, but self-preservation. I’m not sure what I’ll find in his eyes, and that scares me. This has been a whirlwind, and the way my life is, it will all come crashing down again.

  “Hey, can you run to the store to grab some stuff for Peyton?”

  I glance up at Brock’s question, seeing Bodhi respond with a nod before he walks around to get in the driver’s seat.

  “I’ll send a list,” Brock says, typing quickly on his phone before glancing up. “Anything else you need besides the basics?”

  “No. I’ll go home to get my stuff at some point.” I pick at one nail, the anxiety creeping in when I think about returning to the trailer.

  “This is home now,” Brock says as he finishes typing a list for Bodhi.

  Then, he leans down to scoop under my legs and back and lifts me from the car. I’m used to it by now, so I don’t even protest as I wrap my arm around his shoulders. It’s too late for many to see us anyway.

  “Did you text Landry?” Brock asks Corbin.

  I furrow my brow. I don’t remember a Landry from when I was here before.

  “Yeah, she’s waiting a
t the side door.”

  Brock takes off, walking around the side of the dorm, and we stop at the entrance to the stairwell. Once Corbin knocks, the door opens to a pretty girl. She has dark hair pulled into a messy bun and a scowl on her face.

  “What the fuck is going on, Corbin? I couldn’t get ahold of you for forever. Brock, you’d better not have gotten him involved in anything. Who is she?” She turns her gaze on me, where I’m cocooned in Brock’s arms, and I stare back at her.

  “Let’s go inside, and we can tell you everything,” Corbin says, yanking the door open wider for Brock to carry me through.

  We follow the girl I assume is Landry up three flights of stairs. Brock barely breaks a sweat, and I am honestly surprised and a little turned on with how I feel his muscles moving underneath me. Not sure how, considering only a few minutes ago, I was ready to collapse.

  She opens the door to a room in the hall, and a blonde girl is standing beside one bed, eyes wide and staring at us. I recognize her even though her hair is a lot shorter than I remember.

  “Peyton?” she gasps, and I give a small, halfhearted wave.

  “Trixie Northcutt,” I say and then smile. “Hey.”

  “You know her?” Landry says, mouth agape as she stares at Trixie.

  “Yeah, she used to go here.” Trixie continues to stare at me.

  “Well, I love this little reunion you’ve got going, but where can I set her down?” Brock asks the room, and Trixie moves sideways, motioning at her bed.

  “Right here. Did something happen?” She tilts her head as she regards us.

  “It’s a long story,” Corbin says with a sigh.

  Trixie puts an extra pillow against the headboard before I lie back, and then I feel everyone’s eyes on me.