I shake my head. “You don’t get it, do you?”
“What’s to get? You both fucked her, and now you’re catching feelings like a little bitch. Both of you.”
I snort. “No one’s catching feelings. Maybe Trent is… but I’m not.”
“Then let him have her.”
“She doesn’t want either of us.”
“That’s because you’re both up her ass. If you don’t want her, and you’re only going after her to piss Trent off, it’s not helping the rest of us.” He lifts the remote from the coffee table and flips through the channels. “You’ve both been miserable assholes to live and play with.”
“He’s the one who’s acting like an asshole.”
“You could end it first.”
I smirk. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He laughs. “Fuck you, Tuck.”
At least one of my relationships is normal. Drake has been my closest friend since we were kids. Coming from him, the advice doesn’t feel aggressive or forced like it does with Preston. And with Trent, it’s like having my dad scold me for being a bad boy. I don’t like being parented by my brother or friends.
“How’s the tutor search going?”
I shrug against the plush cushion behind me. “It’s not. I decided to do something crazy for once and study.”
Drake narrows his eyes at me. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
“You heard me, dick.”
“Get the fuck out of here. So, you were really going to the library.” I nod, and he continues, “And here I thought that was code for hooking up with Trent’s girl.”
“She’s not Trent’s girl.”
“Maybe, maybe not. She’s not yours either.”
“He’s acting like he’s in love with her,” I admit.
Drake nods. “Just let him have her.”
I hate fighting with my brother. We have a bond that’s so different from what I have with my older sister or brother. Ava has always been like another mother to me. And Tye is like an extension of my dad.
But Trent is my twin. We share everything, always have. And I miss what we had before Jemma came along.
“I will,” I say to Drake. “As soon as Trent stops acting like a pussy and talks to me.”
Drake gives me something resembling a smile before refocusing his gaze on the television.
Chapter Ten
Tucker
On the bus ride home from the Thanksgiving game, I made up with Trent. We’re finally on good terms. The team is back on track. I’m passing my class, and this time I did it on my own. And of course, now that everything is falling back into place, The Queen is back.
I cringe when a notification scrolls across my cell phone screen. “Maybe she’s moved on from us,” I say to no one in particular.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Jamie says.
Drake, Preston, and Jamie are sitting at our usual table in the cafeteria with me, their phones now in their hands. Trent is off who knows where with Jemma now that she’s speaking to him again.
The Queen has become so popular over the last few months that now everyone on campus jumps at the chance to see who she will dethrone next.
Phones are raised in the air. Everyone wants to know the latest piece of juicy gossip.
Dethroned
December Edition
Ahh, Christmas time, the most wonderful time of the year. And yet, at Strickland University it’s the most scandalous. While everyone is out shopping for the holidays, the spoiled brats of Strick U are up to their usual debauchery. From the looks of the dick pics Drake Donovan has been sharing with a certain someone, he has plenty of lovin’ for his mystery woman to unwrap. But who’s the lucky girl? Or should we say girls, you nasty dick-pic-sending-creep?
You, Drake Donovan, have been dethroned.
XO,
The Queen
I can’t stop laughing as I read her latest post. Jamie’s laughter pierces my eardrum, his body shaking the bench from laughing so hard. Preston wears an expression that says, ‘Thank God it’s not about me’ with a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Drake, on the other hand, looks as though he’s about to snap. His face reddens by the second, his nostrils flared in anger.
Everyone in the cafeteria who’s seen this already is now shooting glances in our direction. Most days, our table garners a fair amount of attention from women, but today, everyone’s staring at Drake. Whispers flow through the crowded room like smoke hitting the air.
“Who’s she talking about?” I ask Drake, drowning out the noise. “Not Bex’s friend. Right?”
“She would never go for that shit,” Preston says as if reading my mind.
Ever since Drake met Taylor Bradshaw, he’s been acting like a pussy-whipped loser. I’ve never seen him crush this hard on a girl before. Preston’s girlfriend is around all the time, and with Bex Bryant comes her best friend, Taylor, who seems to like teasing and torturing Drake. It’s funny as shit to watch, though.
“Taylor already thinks I’m a player…” Drake growls, “… and now this.” He balls his hand into a fist. “Fuck, she’s never gonna talk to me again.”
“But you are a player,” I point out.
He grunts, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, but now she’ll never give me a chance. We gotta take this bitch down.”
“Oh, now she called you out, you care? It’s not like everyone on campus hasn’t seen your dick, anyway.” I can’t keep a straight face when I say the last part. Literally, everyone has probably seen a Drake junk shot at some point.
Everyone at our table laughs.
Drake shrugs, unaffected. “What can I say? My dick has a life of its own.”
“And Taylor knows that, stupid,” Preston says. “Which is why she doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Nah.” Drake shakes his head. “She likes the chase.”
He’s been giving her one hell of a chase for weeks. Damn guy is lucky if he gets a kiss, let alone sex. Taylor’s making him earn every ounce of her respect before she will put out.
“At least the semester is over on Friday,” Jamie says. “That will give me a little more time to work on tracking The Queen. She might have her guard down, thinking no one is paying attention to her during the break.”
“Speaking of the break…” Preston interrupts, still chewing on his food so his voice is slightly muffled, “… you guys coming over to my house for Christmas?”
“My dad said something about doing it at our house instead,” I say, shoving a forkful of rice into my mouth.
We spend every holiday, birthday, and special event together. It’s been this way since birth. Coach Bryant attributes our success on the ice to our close personal relationships off the ice. He’s not wrong. Playing with family, even though we sometimes fight, makes us play like a unit. Knowing each other’s weakness and strengths also helps. We can tell when one of us is off before we even know it. It’s as if we have a sixth sense when it comes to each other.
“You know how my mom feels about Christmas basketball,” Preston says. “We might not stay at your house for long.”
Preston’s mom is a former basketball player and sports agent who everyone in the business calls Coach. To me, she’s just Aunt Charlotte. She’s from Chicago originally, a diehard fan of the Bulls, and never misses a single NBA game on Christmas.
“My dad bought one of those projection screens,” I tell him. “Wait until you see the high def on it. The players look like they’re jumping off the screen.”
“Oh, yeah?” He smiles. “Bex will like that, too.”
“She can come,” I offer. “You can bring Taylor, too,” I say to Drake, laughing. “If she’ll even look at you after reading that post.”
Drake frowns.
Preston chuckles.
So, I dodged a bullet this time. But that’s this month, and only because I stopped partying as much with my friends at the Delta Sig house and buckled down on my classes.
Still, it’s nice not to be the center of attention this time.
Chapter Eleven
Sam
“Thanks, Mrs. C,” I say to Eden’s mom as she wraps her arms around me. “I really appreciate you taking me in for the holidays.”
Mrs. Caulfield is a blonde, like Eden, with the same green irises and high cheekbones. She oozes warmth, and as she releases me from her grip, I’m consumed by emotions, saddened by the fact my mom is no longer here with me. The holidays always remind me of her and make me miss her even more than I already do.
“It’s no trouble at all, Samantha.” Mrs. Caulfield smiles. “You’re welcome to stay with us anytime.”
Mr. Caulfield, a balding middle-aged man with big blue eyes and short, dark hair, lifts my suitcase from the floor. It’s old and beaten down like most of the things I own. “I’ll take this up to Eden’s room for you.”
I smile, wondering what it must be like to have a real dad, one who’s not drunk and dirty, barely able to function from one day to the next. “Thanks, Mr. Caulfield.”
Their house is a home, not just a place where they sleep. The scent of gingerbread wafts through the air. If I were home, cigarette smoke and stale beer would be penetrating the air as I tried to assemble a halfway decent dinner for my dad as he slept on the couch. That’s Christmas to me. Which is why I can’t stand the holidays. They serve as nothing more than a painful reminder of the past and what I will never have. I can’t recall the last time I had a Christmas like this one.
Last year, dear old Dad was passed out on the front steps wearing his boxers and a winter coat with holes in it. Real classy. He’s worse than the drunk Santa at the mall.
I had to drag him upstairs into the bathroom and made him soak in the tub until he sobered up enough to eat dinner with me. Unlike my father’s house, the Caulfield’s have decorations hanging from the massive tree in the corner. Garland twists all the way up the banister. Even snowflakes and mistletoe hang from various parts of the ceiling.
I miss having a normal Christmas. Over ten years have passed since my mother’s death. When I’m reminded of what I had, I want to curl into a ball and cry. But I won’t allow myself to fall apart. Someone has to be the parent. I’ve become so accustomed to what I’m stuck with and often forget what I could have. Which is why I decided to take Eden up on her offer this year.
I’ve never said yes until now. And while I’m thrilled to be here, I want to go back to school. Strickland University is home for me now. I just want to get back to the everyday grind and forget about the holidays.
Eden grabs my hand and leads me into the kitchen. “We have some taste testing to do.”
I look at the trays of cookies on the table. There’s iced gingerbread men, chocolate chip, sugar, and at least a dozen other decorated cookies.
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Taste testing?”
“Yeah.” She lifts two gingerbread men from the plate and hands one to me. “My mom makes me eat two of every cookie before she serves them to guests. But since you’re family, you can help me eat some of these before everyone comes over for dinner.”
I bite into the cookie and moan from the burst of cinnamon hitting my tongue. “Mmm… this is amazing.” I glance over at Mrs. Caulfield, the cookie raised in the air. “Good work, Mrs. C.”
She fixes her apron and smiles.
Eden’s family is supposed to be here in the next few hours. I’ve met them dozens of times. They’re the kind of family you see in Hallmark movies and think ‘they can’t be real.’ Her cousins are all perfect with their perfect children and perfect lives. Or at least that’s the front they put on for everyone. I’d rather be around people who pretend to be normal. It beats the alternative.
We spend the next twenty minutes shoving cookies into our mouths. My stomach growls from the pain by the time I lean back in the chair. Running my hand over my full belly, I can’t even look at the plates in front of us.
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” I tell Eden.
She laughs and munches on another cookie, speaking with her mouth full of food. “My mom only makes these once a year. I’ll eat until I puke.”
I laugh. “You’re on your own then. I can’t even think straight after eating so many carbs.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t watch what you eat on Christmas. There’s a rule.”
I chuckle. “No, there’s not.”
She smirks. “Well, there should be.”
“All the carbs make my head foggy,” I admit, and she already knows this. My body doesn’t digest complex carbohydrates properly, and for some reason, it takes longer to process them. “I have to finish my article later. Need to be focused.”
Eden sighs. “You work too much, Sam. Take a day off. It won’t kill you.”
“I don’t know how to take a day off,” I joke, even though it’s true.
I work to pay the bills, but I also do it to keep my mind from wandering. If I allow myself, I’ll sink into self-loathing mode. That can’t happen. Not when I’m so close to graduating and moving on with my life and career.
Eden rests her elbows on the table and leans forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you send her the latest news?”
By her she means the girl who goes by The Queen. We still have no clue who she is or why she’s so interested in the men’s ice hockey team, but she pays well. That’s about all I need to know. As long as the checks keep coming so will the information.
“It’s not much,” I admit. “But it will have to do. They haven’t been in the spotlight as much since her first dethroning.”
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and sinks into the chair, staring out the window next to us. “Do you feel bad?”
I nod. “Yes. All the time.”
“It was too good of an offer to pass up.”
“She made it too easy to say yes.”
A small part of me feels guilty for sneaking around to get information. We both learned how to use our journalism skills to find dirt on people. No one ever thinks anything of me. I’m always the shy, smart girl everyone overlooks. So, when I ask questions, their guard is already lowered. They have no idea I’m using whatever they say to make a quick buck.
My phone dings in my pocket. I know the ringtone before I look at the screen. “She needs more,” I say to Eden, holding out the phone for her to read the message.
“Wow.” She gasps at the rude message. “She really has a way with words, huh?”
“She’s nothing more than a spoiled brat who wants revenge against those guys for who knows what. After what Tucker did to me, what the rest of them continue to do to other girls, I’m sure they deserve whatever she has planned for them.”
Eden folds her hands on her lap and sighs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. All of the guys on that campus are such assholes. I can’t believe how much I allowed Romeo to convince me he was a good guy.”
“You dated a guy who goes by the name Romeo.” I try not to laugh and fail. “What did you expect?”
A blush creeps down her neck flushing her cheeks. “Shut up, Sam. You were with Tucker. Not like he’s any better.”
“Nah, but he’s hotter.” I flash a wicked grin, and she waves her hand at me telling me to be quiet.
Our fun time ends with another message, but this time it’s not from The Queen. My blood runs cold when I see Jim’s name pop up on the screen.
“What the fuck does he want?” I groan under my breath.
“Your dad?”
“Yeah.” I roll my finger across the screen to read the message and roll my eyes. “He needs more beer.”
Eden’s face darkens. “I’m sorry, Sam.”
“He’s such a loser.” I shove the phone back into my pocket and ignore him. “How about ‘Merry Christmas’ or perhaps even ‘How are you doing?’”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. He needs to dry out.”
“Won’t he run to the store drunk?”
I shrug. “Maybe. He always drinks more on holidays because of my mom. I know he misses her, but I can’t add to his addiction.”
My childhood therapist told me I can’t destroy myself in pursuit of his temporary happiness. When I was younger, I had conditioned myself to believe that if I went to the store for him or grabbed a beer from the fridge on my way into the living room, I would be rewarded, and he would love me more because of it. But I learned the hard way.
Three years ago, right after I made the mistake of giving Tucker my virginity, I decided to take my power back. I entered therapy and finally realized I didn’t have to tolerate this kind of abuse from anyone. And so I don’t. The only reason I still help my father is because I don’t want to lose the goodness inside me to his darkness. I don’t want him to smother my light.
“Hey,” Eden says, brushing my hand with her fingers. “Let’s sneak into the wine cellar and get a little tipsy before everyone comes.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and it makes me laugh.
At least I have Eden in my life. She’s the only person who keeps me going some days. Especially on days like this one.
Chapter Twelve
Tucker
The living room in my parents’ house is jam-packed with our family and friends. My mom is in the kitchen with my Aunt Sydney, Drake’s mom, cooking her usual turkey with all the trimmings. All the men are spread out on couches watching the basketball game. My dad passes around bottles of beer while Aunt Charlotte, Preston’s mom, yells at the players on the monster projection screen my dad just bought.
Preston is here with his parents and older brother, John, who everyone calls JP. He even brought his girlfriend, Bex, our coach’s daughter. Now that Coach Bryant knows about them, Bex is around a lot more. They seem to be attached at the hip.
Teaching Tucker (Face-Off Legacy Book 3) Page 6
