Dare You To Keep Me: HawkRidge High II

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Dare You To Keep Me: HawkRidge High II Page 1

by Akeroyd, Serena




  Dare You To Keep Me

  HawkRidge High II

  Serena Akeroyd

  Copyright © 2019 by Serena Akeroyd

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  Yesterday

  The following day

  Later that afternoon

  1. Jessa

  2. Jessa

  3. Drew

  4. Max

  5. Drew

  6. Max

  7. Drew

  8. Sam

  WHODUNNIT?

  Also by Serena Akeroyd

  Foreword

  I know you guys have been waiting on this book, so, for your patience, I thank you.

  Sometimes, I can drop a series one-a-month, sometimes, it takes me a while. That’s the thing with creativity and inspiration. It’s either there, or it isn’t, and it can’t be forced.

  If I’d have released Dare You To Keep Me back in April as planned, it would have been forced. Now? It’s how it was always meant to be.

  Patience might not be one of Drew’s virtues, but I know my readers possess it and, once again, thank you for that.

  As always, if you want the latest updates on my books, then become a Diva in my FB reader group. I know, I know, you might not want to, but have a look in there, see what it’s like, and you can always leave. HOWEVER, you’ll always be the first to know about releases.

  Also, check it out if you want to see the cover for the next book in the HawkRidge High series!!

  Love you,

  Serena xoxo

  Yesterday

  Derick

  “Fuck you.”

  Sarah Dunham smirked at me, and even though I’d been raised not to hit a woman, God help me, I wanted to. If she’d been a guy, I would have. I’d have smacked her right in the fucking face, grinding my fists down until I heard the satisfying pop of her nose breaking.

  “You wish I’d fuck you,” Sarah purred, knowing she had me right where she wanted me. “But then, if that was what you were into, you wouldn’t be in this predicament, would you?”

  The way she talked about it made it sound like I was into fucking sheep or something. But in the tiny town of Hawk Ridge, North Carolina, sticking your dick in another guy’s ass made me a pervert.

  Fuck, I hated this place. Hated it. And I hated what I was about to do to keep this shit secret even more.

  I was the dick of my year. I knew that. I owned it. I’d worked hard to build that rep. Shoveling shit where I could, causing trouble when I had the chance. But that didn’t mean I didn’t give a fuck about my family. I did. They were all that mattered, but if they knew how I got my kicks?

  They’d disown me.

  Faster than snapping their fingers.

  A mother high up in politics, a father richer than Croesus… neither of them would want a gay son to tarnish the family image, and out in the cold I’d be.

  Some people could handle the cold, but I wasn’t one of them. I gulped down air, trying not to panic. I had a solution, but the solution sucked, and I hated Sarah Dunham all the more for it.

  She was a first-class bitch. Toxic and unclean. Worst of all? She’d get away with it. For life. She’d go around destroying the people in her vicinity, all because she could. Because she’d always have people in her debt, people like me, who gave her the connections she needed to get what she wanted.

  I snatched the baggies from her and gritted out, “I’ll get it done before tomorrow night’s game.”

  Her top lip curved in a smirk that made me want to smack her again. “You do that.”

  When she swerved on her heel, I watched her walk off. Her ass was tight and highlighted to perfection in a pair of skinny jeans that should have been illegal in a high school setting. I’d been to strip joints where the women wore less revealing clothes. Topped with a halter top that had every man wanting to unfasten that knot, I recognized that I didn’t have to like the bitch to find her hot.

  My jaw worked as I pocketed the gear.

  Guilt didn’t sit well with me, but if this was just about me, I’d say fuck it. I’d let Sarah do whatever she wanted. Blackmailers were scum and Sarah was at the top of that particular food chain, but she had my balls in a vise and she knew that.

  Smashing my fist into the wall did nothing but bust up my knuckles and potentially break one of my fingers. The pain helped ease some of my guilt. But shit, I hadn’t framed an innocent girl yet.

  How the fuck would I feel when all this was over?

  I didn’t know, and I wasn’t looking forward to finding out.

  The following day

  Jessa

  “Jessa, where are you? I wanted to speak with you before I left school.”

  I winced, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t exactly tell my mother who’d just gone to bat for me and Max with the principal that Max had freaked out, could I? It would make him look guilty in her eyes, and that was the last thing any of us needed.

  Three bags of drugs had been found in my locker. Three bags that didn’t belong to me. Max had caught Derick goddamn Petersen messing around with my locker, had texted me to come and check he hadn’t gotten inside, but he had.

  Those drugs weren’t mine.

  They’d been planted.

  Planted.

  This felt like the start of some cop procedural show, for God’s sake.

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I lied, “I had to take Max home. He left some stuff that he needed to grab there. You know it can get cold at the end of a game.” She knew because I often complained to her about being stuck outside late at night when it started to get colder. The days were still warm, unseasonably so, but the nights? Yeesh. They could grow bitter.

  She hesitated for a second, then murmured, “Jessa, I need to tell you something.”

  “Sure, what is it?” I asked, staring at the road ahead as I made my way to Max’s home on one of Hawk Ridge’s highest hills. The house had been in the Davenham family for generations as they’d founded the town, but I knew it wasn’t Max’s father’s main home.

  Everyone talked about how often his wife was here and he was on post, but no one outright came out with the question: were they separated?

  Max and I were close, and I’d never even asked him that.

  “Your trust fund came into effect when you were eighteen.”

  My eyes widened and the car swerved on the road as my hands jerked at the wheel. Whatever I’d expected her to say, it hadn’t been that. “My trust fund?” I repeated dumbly.

  “Yes. Your brother will get one as well.” Her voice quivered a second. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

  I knew she had a trust fund, one that would keep us all in VIP living for the rest of our naturals, but that we had one too? That was definitely new information.

  “Aaron has a trust fund as well?” I queried, shaking my head slightly. “I thought we’d just… I don’t know, inherit yours?”

  “No. My grandfather shook things up. Dad wanted to come down and speak to you about it, but I managed to convince him otherwise.”

  My brow furrowed in confusion. Mom was all for being open and honest, and as much as I was able, I usually was with her because she dealt with me fairly. “Why?” I half-accused. “Why didn’t you want me or Aaron to know?”

  “Because I didn’t approve. When I was eighteen…” She blew out a breath. “When I gained access to my
trust fund, I went a little crazy. That was how I got your grandfather to stay in New York and not to come and talk to you about this, because he knew just how bad things got. I didn’t want you to be affected the same way.”

  I scowled at the road ahead. “I’m not you, Mom, and to be frank, I’m offended that you think I am.” When she gasped, I stated firmly, “My parents are good, down-to-earth people. They’re not like Grandfather Max. They’re not elitist pricks who think anyone who isn’t in the top tax bracket isn’t worthy of their attention. My parents are decent, and they trust my brother and me to be good, outstanding people too—”

  “Oh, Jessa,” my mom breathed. “Thank you for that. But if you knew just what I got up to—”

  “I don’t need to know,” I interrupted quickly. “You were young. We’re all allowed a rebellion. And, to be frank, Mom, if Grandfather Max had been my dad? Jeez, I’d definitely be a thousand times worse than I am. He’s lucky you’re the way you are now.”

  “Your father saved me, Jessa. Kept me in line in a way my father never did.”

  I’d seen the way my parents looked at one another. I didn’t need her words to know just how in love they were even all these years later. “I know, Mom.”

  “You don’t, and I’m glad you don’t. Not really. I never want you to know what I did, but…” She huffed. “As a result of what happened to me, with me, your trust funds are different.”

  “They are?” My brow puckered as I indicated to turn onto the green and windy path toward Max’s home. I had a bad feeling where he was concerned. I just knew he was going to run. This conversation was important, but equally, Max was.

  He just didn’t know how important he was, otherwise, he’d never even think about running.

  I didn’t let the people I cared about get away from me.

  Life was too short for that.

  “Yes. I’m sorry, love, but… Well, to make sure that any future trust fund babies behave themselves, a clause was put in place. If you misbehave to an extent that the trustees consider you—”

  At her hesitation, and because it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where she was going with this, I helpfully chimed in, “Behaving in an obscene way?”

  “Yes, that.” She cleared her throat. “Well, if you do, then you’ll lose access to your trust fund.”

  I shrugged. “Okay. Well, I mean, I never do anything obscene.” And I was on the debate team. I just dared any fuddy-duddy trustee to tell me that I led my life in a manner that was obscene.

  “Drugs, Jessa? If this sticks…”

  “It won’t, Mom. It won’t,” I promised her. “The footage—”

  “There is no footage,” she said bleakly. “I asked that prick Sommers for it and he said there wasn’t any.” My eyes narrowed at that because the halls had cameras, so where were the recordings? “Now,” she continued, drawing my attention back to the matter at hand, “I’ve managed to sweep this away for the moment but, and it’s a big but, you know the board of governors isn’t going to leave this lying down.”

  Shit, Max had been right about not getting the faculty involved, hadn’t he? I should have listened, I’d just never imagined I’d be triggering some kind of school conspiracy. But my biggest concern was him, because if he was right on the money with that, was he correct about something else too?

  My voice shook as I asked, “Mom?”

  “Yes, love.”

  “Sommers wants to blame Max, doesn’t he?”

  She released a shaky breath. “Yeah. He does. Jessa, your trust fund—you have to know what your grandfather is like. Once you inherit that, that’s it. If you lose it, there’ll be nothing more. Just think of Aunt Belinda…”

  “I know, Mom. I know.” My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I thought about how my stupid aunt had thought she was on the poverty line when her account had hit ten mill. “It’s okay.”

  “Losing access to a hundred million dollars is not okay, Jessa!” she barked.

  I winced. “A hundred million? Jesus, Mom.”

  “Yes. It’s a lot of money. I won’t have you lose it!”

  “And I won’t let Max take the blame for something he didn’t even do. Derick Petersen was behind this, dammit. You have to believe me. Why would I have gone to Sommers in the first place if this—”

  “You’re right.” She sighed, and I just knew she’d be pinching the bridge of her nose because her voice, when it came next, sounded nasal. “You’re right. Why would you have gone to the principal if you were guilty. I’m sorry, baby. I’m just panicking.”

  It was weird how she did that when she was one of the strongest people I knew. But I also knew that where Aaron and I were concerned, we were her biggest weaknesses. She’d go to war for us, show the fiercest of fronts, but behind the scenes, she’d be a quivering wreck.

  When I saw Max’s home up ahead, I pulled into the side. I hadn’t passed Max on the way here so I wasn’t even sure if this was the way he’d come home, but I knew this would be his first port of call before he ran off. I knew it like I knew I was apparently a hundred million dollars richer.

  Jesus wept.

  My throat felt thick at the thought of what that money could do, what we could do with it, and I bit down on my lip as I murmured, “Max would never, ever hurt me, Mom. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, yes, I do. He has feelings for you, Jessa. You know that, don’t you?”

  For a second, I had no words, and because her husky chuckle sounded down the line, I just crinkled my nose and blurted out, “Sommers is all bluster.”

  “He is that,” she intoned darkly, then, her tone turned musing. “In fact, leave it with me. I have an idea.”

  I blinked. “You do? About what?”

  “I’ll tell you if it works when you come home. Love you, baby. Enjoy the game.”

  Before I could reply, she cut the call, and I was left dealing with the fact I was a wealthy heiress so long as none of this went public…

  Sometimes, only a foreign curse word could ever truly convey just how messed up something was.

  Fuck wasn’t enough, but joder? Yup, that did the trick.

  Later that afternoon

  Drew

  I knew something was wrong the second I began jogging onto the field for warmups.

  My head was fuzzy and my heart was pounding. I was fit. Ridiculously fit. I was used to working out harder than this, well at ease with running for miles without my heart beating this fast, so I knew something wasn’t right.

  When Coach hollered something at us, it was like my ears weren’t working, either.

  I blinked at him, stared at the guys around me, my team, and followed their movements, trying to force my body to move, to obey my will.

  In the distance, the goalposts were blurry, and when Sam, to my left, began to jog toward them, I followed him, but my chest felt tight. As I took a few steps forward, a sharp pain speared through my upper body, blooming through my torso before hitting my arm like a lightning bolt. In tandem, the goalposts became more than a blur. They were impossible to make out.

  I squinted, trying to focus on them, but I couldn’t. My eyes wouldn’t work.

  Unable to stop myself, I dropped to my knees. I felt the earth vibrate around me as people surrounded me, felt someone grab at my arm and try to haul me upright.

  But it didn’t work. Couldn’t work.

  My eyes closed as I allowed the pain to swallow me whole.

  1

  Jessa

  The wind was in my hair.

  A hot guy was by my side.

  The sun was beaming down on us as we drove down one of the best streets in town, and all should have been right with my world.

  It was Friday.

  The weekend was here, and I should have been on my way to the game. The big one. Against the Lone Elms. I should have been pumped. My boyfriend, the captain of the football team, was going to kick ass, my best friend was going to score a gazillion touchdowns, and a new f
riend was supposed to watch it by my side.

  Of course, my Friday hadn’t worked out as planned.

  What had Steinbeck said?

  The best laid plans of mice and men…

  I was very much feeling like a mouse. A mouse in a huge wheel someone else was controlling. Spinning it so fast that I didn’t have a hope in hell of catching up, of ever making my way back to some semblance of normalcy.

  My day hadn’t even started off like any other.

  I hadn’t woken up in my girly bedroom hearing my brother taking a dump—ew—in the bathroom we shared.

  I hadn’t had breakfast with my distracted dad as he spoke about how the Arctic was representative of society on the whole—melting and morphing into a whole other form. I hadn’t even been kissed by my mom, who passed off the coffee cake our housekeeper, Catalina, baked as her own.

  No, I’d started the day off in Sam’s arms, in his upstairs living room, in his house. I’d spent the night there because my cat, Buddy, had been run over the day before, and I just hadn’t been able to deal with the prospect of being in bed with him not cuddling up to me at some point during the night. Waking up without him? No. I couldn’t. Not yet.

  Waking up with Sam should have been the start of a pleasant day, but with grief for Buddy plaguing me, it hadn’t. Then there’d come the clusterfuck.

  The drugs planted in my locker.

  The suspicion was thrown my new friend’s way because he came from the wrong side of the tracks in a world where the right side paid to always look like good old boys.

 

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