Wicked Rules (Wicked Bay Book 2)

by L A Cotton

  “Okay, man,” Luke sighed, “if you’re sure. But I’ve seen him watch her. He’s itching to make you pay for Caitlin. You know that.” My best friend gave me a pointed look, and a groan bubbled in my throat.

  “Let me deal with Holloway. But I appreciate the heads up.” Luke was one of the few people I trusted.

  “Sure thing, and you know I’ve got Lo’s back. The rest of the guys too. Trey likes to give you shit about her, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I want eyes on her, always. If I’m not with her, someone is watching her.”

  “Got it.”

  Lo was a junior. Our paths rarely crossed around school and I couldn’t watch her twenty-four-seven. Kyle and Laurie knew the drill. They knew Caitlin could make life difficult for her if she wanted to. She’d already proved that with her little stunt at Winter Formal. But if Luke was right and JB was going to make a move to use her to hurt me… well, that couldn’t happen.

  “You need to be discreet,” I said. “If she knows we’re—”

  His head shook, an amused smirk plastered on his face. “Jesus, you’re whipped.”

  “Taffia,” I warned, and he threw up his hands.

  “Hey, it looks good on you. She’s good for you. It’s about time you had something good in your life. Just don’t fuck it up.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. But he didn’t know Lo the way I did. If she knew I was having her watched by someone other than Kyle, she’d have my balls. But I was already risking her by just being with her. Caitlin wanted Lo out of the picture. There was a good chance JB wanted to use her to hurt me. And once my father found out about us—if he didn’t already know—he’d use her against me.

  Lo was my weakness. And it was only a matter of time before someone exploited that.

  ~

  After my conversation with Luke, I headed straight for Coach’s office. He’d told me to come by after last period, but when I knocked on the door and slipped inside, he was taking a call. “Take a seat,” he mouthed, and I dropped into the chair, scrubbing a hand over my face.

  It had been a long day. I’d expected it to be bad—the stares and whispers and constant questions—but it had been intense. The lingering waves of pain hadn’t helped my mood. Luke and the guys kept the piranhas from circling and our group went on lockdown for most of the day. Laurie and Kyle did the same with Lo, but I knew she’d had it rough in a couple of her classes. Kyle told me as much. Because where I was used to being in the limelight, used to the way people gravitated to me and mine, Lo wasn’t.

  Fuckers.

  Why couldn’t they just leave us alone? It wasn’t like Lo had taken me off the market—I was never on it to begin with. Aside from Caitlin, I didn’t date. Period. And before her, I’d rarely so much as looked at any of the girls from school and, if I had, they were a means to an end. An itch to scratch. But I knew how their minds worked. Being with me painted a target on Lo’s back and the line started behind Caitlin Holloway.

  “Maverick, thanks for coming, son.” Coach hung up his phone and spun his chair to face me. “I had an interesting chat with a Miss Stone last week.” His mouth curved in a sly smile.

  “You did, huh?” I leaned forward, rubbing my jaw, unsure of what to do with that.

  Lo wanted me to pursue Steinbeck, I knew that, but truth was, I still hadn’t decided what to do. I wasn’t used to someone trying to railroad me. To take the decision out of my hands. That right was reserved solely for my father.

  “Smart girl, I like her.” His smile was genuine.

  I like her too. Too much.

  I held his unwavering expression, but I didn’t say the words.

  “I’m going to level with you, son. After all the work we put into UCLA, I don’t want a repeat. I don’t want to push you into this only to have your father screw things up at the last minute. But I’m not afraid of getting my hands a little dirty either. So I’m asking you right here, right now, what do you want, Maverick?”

  “I—” The lump in my throat choked me and I stalled, feeling the prickle of anger in my bloodstream. I’d wanted UCLA with every fiber of my being. It was my dream for as long as I could remember. To play for Bruins. To wear blue and yellow.

  “What. Do. You. Want?” Coach repeated, his eyes boring into me, pinning me to the spot. Anyone else and I would have looked away, refused to answer. But Coach Callahan knew me better than most people. He knew what basketball meant to me. What a life out of my father’s clutches meant. He’d never had his blinders on where my father was concerned, but his hands were tied. Just like every other teacher in Wicked Bay High. They knew the deal—who I was, who my father was—but Coach was different because, in the end, when it mattered, he came through for me.

  My hands balled into tight fists as I replayed the last few months over in my head. The hopes, the expectations… the bone crushing disappointment when I realized UCLA was no longer within reach. My father had his claws so far in me, I no longer knew where he ended and I started. The lines between us were blurred, messy and suffocating. But his dream wasn’t mine. His future wasn’t mine.

  I was a Prince, but I didn’t want his kingdom.

  “I want basketball, Sir,” I said. “I want it more than air.”

  Basketball was my life. It ran through my blood, kept my heart beating.

  “I didn’t hear you, Prince. What do you want?”

  “Basketball, Sir,” I said with more conviction, feeling the stir of something different—something that could chase away the darkness.

  Fight against it.

  “Good.” He slammed his hands down on the desk and leaned forward. “Because I already made the call.”

  My eyes widened to saucers as an easy grin transformed his face. “No time like the present and it just so happens I have connections.”

  That didn’t surprise me. He made it his business to have connections. This was good. It was more than I could have hoped for. But then Coach’s expression turned grim again. “They’re interested. Who wouldn’t be? But, and it’s a big one, I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull the right strings to get them to ease off on your test scores.”

  Fuck. I raked a hand through my hair. “Did you… tell them?

  “No. It’s not my decision to make. But maybe it’s time to own your shit, Maverick. It’s dyslexia. It’s not a death-sentence.”

  “I’ll think about it.” I said, a defensive edge in my voice.

  “Well think quick, kid. You’re going to need to pull this out of the bag with the SAT. I checked, and the test is in a few weeks. It will mean a lot of hard work. Are you up to that?”

  I’d already sat the SAT twice to try to improve my score for UCLA. Standardized testing, and I had a rough history. Over the years, I’d learned to manage my dyslexia. To work around it and keep it under wraps. And as I got older, people became less interested in my grades and more interested in my game point average and whether I was partying over the weekend or not.

  “I already spoke to Miss Tamson, and she’s agreed to help again, discreetly, of course.”

  “Thank you, Sir, I appreciate it.” More than he would ever know.

  I got up to leave but his voice rooted me to the spot. “Look, Maverick, you’re a good kid. One of the best players I’ve ever seen. You could go all the way, but you need to believe in yourself. And you need to fight for what’s yours.

  “You think I don’t know what you get up to on a weekend? How you blow off steam? Son, I may be gray-haired and pushing the wrong side of fifty-five, but I’m not stupid. I’ve seen you walk into my locker room with a busted lip or bruised knuckles one too many times. And I’ve kept quiet because sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do, but this shit with your father, don’t let it define you. You are not him, Maverick. Don’t give him that kind of power. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good, now get out of here. You have a test to study for.”

  I gave him a tight nod and slipped out of his roo
m, his words whirling around my mind. He didn’t know the whole truth, but he’d deduced enough over the last couple of years. And he’d turned a blind eye to activities off the court because once my feet hit the hardwood, everything melted away and I became the guy I was always destined to be. Coach Callahan didn’t look at me and see Alec Prince’s son or the spoiled rich kid with an unhealthy anger living inside of him. He just saw me. And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe it was my time to step out from under his shadow. To prove myself for me. Because Coach was right, somewhere between my father pinning me to that wall and right now, in this very moment, I’d lost a part of myself. And every day a little more of my soul fell away in oblivion. But I had things to fight for now. I had Lo. And Steinbeck. And basketball. I had a future that was my own.

  I just had to reach out and take it.

  Lo

  “And he said he thought it could work?” I pushed open the door waiting for Maverick to catch me up.

  “Yeah, he seemed positive, but I still don't know, Lo.”

  “Maverick,” I sighed. “What's to think about, if it means—” My feet ground to a halt and he crashed straight into me, grunting with pain.

  “Lo, sweetheart, I, hmm, I wasn't expecting you home.” Dad's eyes bulged as he glanced between me and Maverick and then back to Stella who sat quietly at his side.

  “What's going on?” I immediately went on high alert. Papers were scattered over the coffee table and Stella's eyes were red-rimmed and sore. “Is everything okay?” I raised an eyebrow.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” he said shifting so that he sheltered Stella behind him. “Are you and Maverick staying?”

  “We can study at the pool house. It's no problem, Uncle Rob,” Maverick said. He didn't come around often, and he especially didn't come around when Dad was home.

  Stella sniffled, breaking the awkward silence that had descended over us, and Dad mumbled something that sounded a lot like we could stay and hang out. But I said, “I'll just grab my things and we'll get out of your hair.”

  Whatever was wrong, it looked serious. Stella didn't meet my eyes, taking refuge behind my father’s broad stature. Nor did she speak.

  “Okay, kiddo.” His eyes flashed with appreciation. “Maybe it's for the best.”

  “Wait for me in the car?” I said to Maverick, and he nodded, excusing himself as I went to my room and grabbed the books I needed. Not that I anticipated much studying to happen when we got to the pool house, but Dad didn't need to know that.

  “That's me,” I said when I returned to the living room. Dad glanced up, his arm tucked protectively around Stella's shoulder, and he offered me an apologetic smile.

  “I have my phone if you need me.” I hurried from the house, unsure of what to make of everything. Dad never brought Stella to the house. At least, not when I was around. If she was here, it could only mean whatever had happened wasn't good and my stomach hollowed.

  “Everything okay?” Maverick said as I climbed inside the Audi.

  “I don't know.” I glanced over at the house. “That was weird, right? Did Stella seem like she'd been crying to you?”

  He shrugged, backing the car out of the driveway. But my mind was already working overtime, imagining all the different scenarios that could lead to her sitting in my living room being consoled by my dad.

  “Lo, stop over-thinking,” Maverick's voice reached a place inside of me and I looked over at him.

  “Things just settled down, what if—”

  “You don't even know what's wrong yet. Don't jump to conclusions. It could be nothing.”

  Or it could be something.

  Something that would disrupt the strange level of normal Dad and I had found over the last few weeks.

  “Hey.” Maverick's hands reached for my knee. “I'm sure everything is fine.”

  I gave him a little nod but didn't trust myself to reply. To say any of the things circling my mind.

  “You can't flake out on me now, not when I have a test to study for.”

  “You mean…?”

  A slow grin broke over his face. It was a rare sight. Infectious and blinding. Seeing Maverick happy was one of my favourite things.

  “I want it more than anything. The idea of sitting the SAT again makes me want to puke,” he admitted, unable to meet my gaze. “But I'll do it.”

  I slid my hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at me. “This is good, Maverick. This could change everything, and I'll help you. We all will.”

  “No,” he said flatly. His face slipping back into its usual stone mask. “No one can know. If I want this to happen, he can't know, Lo. He can't—” His fists tightened on the wheel.

  “Maverick,” I coaxed him back to me, but he was gone. Lost to his demons; the hold his father had on him. His breathing turned shallow, short and sharp rasps, as his body vibrated. The anger radiating around him like a forcefield.

  “Maverick, don't let him in. I'm here, I'm right here.” My voice was soft. Calm. I reached out and laid a hand on his arm, but he didn't flinch. Maverick didn't take his empty glare off the road.

  “I'm right here,” I whispered, trying to reach him, to bring him back.

  This was why he fought. I understood now. Alec Prince had power over Maverick. The deep ingrained vicious kind. The kind that ate away at your soul until there was nothing left. Fighting made him feel strong again; for those few minutes when he was in the ring he was in control. I'd promised to be his anchor now. But what if I couldn't? What if he needed the pain and hurt? What if he needed the feel of his fist driving into bone and soft tissue?

  Maverick had promised me no more fighting, but what if it was a promise he couldn't keep?

  What if my plan didn’t work out?

  What then?

  ~

  “I can’t do this.” The book in Maverick’s hand flew across his room, landing with a thud, and he dragged a hand down his face. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Sure, it does,” I sighed shifting off the bed to retrieve the textbook. “You already sat the SAT twice. You can do it and remember Miss Tamson said to concentrate on your strengths. Focus on the math questions and then you won’t have to score so high on the critical reading section.”

  “You don’t understand,” he ground out, tugging his hair with his fingers, his eyes darting around me but refusing to meet mine.

  “So, tell me.” I sat back on the bed, crossing my legs in front of me and waited. I was learning that you couldn’t push Maverick. He had to do things in his own time. In his own way. And he was right; I knew nothing much about dyslexia. I knew it affected a person’s ability to read and write. That words got muddled. But that was it. I didn’t know what it was like to live with that.

  Maverick scrubbed his hand over his hair again and then down his face. Finally, he met my intense gaze and said, “Dad refused to believe there was anything wrong. I was a bright kid. Eager to learn. But I struggled with reading and writing. I’d get so frustrated when I couldn’t spell a word or forgot a word’s meaning when I thought I had it locked down. Mom and Dad had only been divorced a year. It was rough, on everyone. I think my teachers thought I was rebelling or something. But eventually, they called my parents in. They wanted to have me assessed. Dad wouldn’t hear of it. No child of his had a learning disability. Mom tried to talk him around, but he wouldn’t listen.

  “I was seven. My parents were divorced, my father, the man I idolized, had a new family, and I hated the man trying to replace him. I was in a bad place, Lo. I didn’t want something to be wrong with me and I couldn’t bear the thought of my dad being disappointed with me. So I promised to try harder. I was good at maths. Numbers came easy. Words not so much. And I already loved basketball. I applied myself. Studied harder. Played harder. I got Macey to help me with homework. It wasn’t the ideas I struggled with, it was writing them down. I’d get confused or forget what it was I wanted to write and then I’d get frustrated and the le
tters and words would blur together on the page. So, she became my scribe.”

  “You covered it up.” I said, my heart breaking for the boy who had hidden this part of himself for so long.

  “I tried. My grades suffered but by the time I got to junior high, I was breaking records on the court and people started paying less attention to my performance in class. Besides, I was Maverick Prince, son of the one of the richest, most powerful men in Wicked Bay, no one was going to question my intelligence. Or lack of it.”

  “Maverick,” I scolded, hating the self-deprecation in his voice.

  He reached for my leg, hooking it over his. “I wasn’t dumb, Lo. I answered questions in class. Did my homework. Copied notes from my friends. I scraped by. I think it was easier for my teachers to believe I was just another kid more interested in sport than learning. A lazy student unwilling to push himself. That they weren’t failing me; I was failing myself. But then everything changed.”

  His walls slammed down.

  “You found out the truth about your dad.”

  “I’d always been a frustrated kid, but something changed that year, when I realized Alec Prince wasn’t who I thought he was. I mean, I wasn’t blind. I knew he was a cold-hearted business man, you didn’t get to where he was without it. But he loved me and Macey, Alex and Elle. And he raised Will, Maxine’s son, like his own. He was a good man, a good father. It was like finding out the truth opened this vortex in my chest. I had all this anger building inside of me. And I didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Basketball was my safe place, the only time I felt free. And it showed. The more bitter I became about life, the more I resented my father, Gentry and myself, and the better I played. Coach started to talk about college scholarships and the future. But I had this dark cloud looming over my head.”

  I uncurled my other leg and slipped it over his, shuffling forward until we were almost chest to chest. Maverick looked so pained. So defeated. I wanted to take it all away. To absorb the darkness that lingered over him. But I knew he needed this, to get it out in the open. Even if he disagreed. My mum always said a problem shared was a problem halved.