Broken Kingdom : A bad boy college romance (Royal Hearts Academy Book 4)

by Ashley Jade

  After converting my futon to a couch, they plop down and Sawyer starts emptying the contents of the paper bag onto my coffee table.

  I stare at them. “Do Jace and Cole know you two have gone rogue?”

  They exchange a glance.

  “They don’t control us,” Dylan says.

  “We’re big girls,” Sawyer adds. “We don’t need their permission to see you.”

  Yeah, that’s a no.

  I’m about to protest, but Dylan huffs, “I love Jace, but I love you too, Oak. And nothing will ever change that.”

  Sawyer nods. “Ditto.”

  And just like that, guilt floods my chest.

  Dylan has every right to walk away from me and my bullshit, yet here she is…still in my corner.

  And Sawyer harbors no malice toward me even though she should, because I caused her to have a goddamn heart attack.

  Sawyer hands me a plate. “Eat some chicken. It will put you in a better mood.”

  After grabbing a pillow, I take a seat on my floor and dive in.

  I can feel their eyes studying me intently the entire time.

  “What?” I snap when I’ve had enough.

  “Nothing.” Dylan’s eyes wander around the room. “I was just wondering if maybe you had something you wanted to get off your chest.”

  Sawyer stops eating. “Because you know you can tell us anything.”

  Dylan nods. “And we mean anything.”

  “Like what’s going on with you and Bianca.”

  Dylan nudges Sawyer in the ribs. “Sawyer.”

  Sawyer holds up her hands. “What? There’s no point beating around the bush.”

  Subtle. Real fucking subtle.

  Keeping a straight face, I look them in the eyes. “Nah.”

  Then I go back to eating my chicken, ignoring the way their mouths drop open.

  “Come on, Oak,” Sawyer whines. “You have to tell us something.”

  Dylan winces. “On second thought. The less I know, the better.”

  Sawyer waves her hands, shooing her away. “Then go somewhere else because I want to know everything. It sucks being left in the dark.”

  She may have a point, but Bianca considers Sawyer a friend and vice versa. Ergo, I can’t trust Sawyer not to tell Bianca what happened.

  And if she’s going to find out the truth about our past…it needs to be from me.

  Glaring, I place my plate down. “Look, gossip girls. This isn’t one of your little soap operas. What’s going on between Bianca and me is just that…between us.”

  Dylan eyes me suspiciously. “So there is something going on between you two?” She holds up a finger. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

  Sawyer nudges her in the ribs this time. “Hush, you.” Fluttering her lashes, she gives me an innocent smile. “You were saying?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “Even if there was, I’m not saying shit because you two will just run back and tell Jace and Cole which is something Bianca doesn’t want to happen.”

  “I won’t,” Sawyer assures me. “You’re my friend and so is Bianca. I love Colton, but he’s gonna have to realize that my friends are going to tell me secrets and part of being a good friend means being trustworthy and keeping certain things to myself.”

  Dylan shakes her head profusely. “Nope. This shit is bound to backfire. If you two want to talk I won’t stop you, but I won’t listen to it.”

  Before anyone can say a word, she covers her ears with her hands and starts humming a Jimmy Eat World song.

  Something I wouldn’t even know if it wasn’t for my cousin’s obsession with them and alternative rock music.

  Sawyer gives me her undivided attention. “Spill the tea, sis.”

  “There’s no tea to spill,” I grunt. “And don’t ever refer to me as sis again.”

  “Fine.” She takes a bite of her chicken. “But you two are talking?”

  “Maybe.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Come on, Oak.”

  “Fine,” I admit, because it’s easier than sitting here arguing with her. “We’re kind of…down-low friends.”

  She blinks. “I see.”

  I wag a finger. “And there it is…judgment.”

  I should have known better.

  She places her chicken back on her plate. “No judgment. It makes sense why you guys would have to be friends in secret. Not only because of Jace and Cole, but you know…Stone.”

  The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the mention of the prick’s name. “Right.”

  Appearing uneasy now, she chews her bottom lip. “It must be hard for you.”

  That’s the understatement of the century.

  “It’s not exactly a goddamn picnic,” I mutter.

  Sympathy fills her eyes. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be friends.” She holds up her hand. “Bianca is great, and she wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” She thinks about this for a second. “Well, not anymore. Point is, if you still have feelings for her, it might not be the best thing in the world to subject yourself to the pain that comes along with seeing her.” Picking up her water bottle, she takes a sip. “Dylan said you’ve been doing really well and going to AA meetings every day. I don’t want you to put yourself in a situation that might cause you to relapse.”

  “Sawyer’s right,” Dylan chimes in.

  “Hey, I thought you didn’t want to hear any of this?” Sawyer points out.

  Sulking, Dylan bites into her chicken. “I didn’t, but I also don’t want Oak to feel like he can’t talk to me.” She looks at me. “Therefore, your secrets are safe with me, too.” She points her drumstick at me. “However, I think you need to listen to Sawyer. Seeing Bianca is obviously hurting you, and—”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to know you almost killed the person you love most in this world?” I growl before I can stop myself. “Only, instead of killing her, you destroyed her life and everything she ever knew, and then left her to pick up the broken pieces without you, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can ever do or say that will fix it.”

  Their mouths fall open and they softly shake their heads.

  “That’s right, you fucking don’t.” I stand up. “This shit isn’t about me or my feelings, it’s about hers. And whatever she wants…whatever she fucking needs from me…I’ll do it.”

  Because her happiness is the only thing that matters.

  “Holy cow,” Sawyer sighs wistfully. “Bless it. They’re like the modern-day Romeo and Juliet.”

  Wincing, Dylan nods in agreement.

  “They both died in the end, remember?” I point out as I walk into my kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. “Anyway, can we change the fucking subject because I’m done talking about this shit?”

  They don’t answer, but I definitely hear them whispering shit to each other.

  When I walk back into the room, I find Dylan looking all kinds of confused. “Poems?”

  My eyes drop down to the notebook she’s holding.

  Fucking hell.

  These two shit stirrers just don’t know when to leave shit the fuck alone.

  “You write poems?”

  Thinking quick, I swipe my notebook from her hands. “No.”

  Dylan looks at Sawyer. “But you just said—”

  “Not a damn word, short stack,” I growl in warning.

  Dragging her gaze around the room, Sawyer shuffles her feet.

  Dylan’s visibly offended. “How come you told Sawyer but not me?”

  “I didn’t tell Sawyer,” I inform her, recalling the time she peeped over my shoulder during a study break back in high school. “Sawyer’s a little snoop.”

  “Hey,” Sawyer shoots back. “That’s not fair. Your poems are amazing and deserve to be shared with the world.”

  Eyes wide, Dylan makes grabby hands. “Gimme.”

  I hold it behind my back. “Not a chance.”

  She pouts. “Come on, Oak. I want to see them.”

/>   She tries snatching it from me, but I place one hand on her forehead, keeping her at bay. “And I’d like to be able to suck my own dick, but some things in life aren’t meant to happen.”

  Next thing I know she’s launching herself at my back like some kind of spider monkey. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  I’m so busy trying to wrangle her to the ground, the notebook slips out of my hand.

  Quick on her feet, Dylan grabs it and jumps up triumphantly.

  Then she runs and locks herself in my bathroom.

  “Not cool,” I roar, banging my fist on the door.

  “Hush,” she yells on the other side. “I’m reading.”

  “Just great,” I mutter.

  “They’re really good,” Sawyer assures me. “I don’t know why you hide them.”

  I turn to look at her. “Because they’re—”

  “Amazing,” Dylan whispers as she comes out of the bathroom.

  Sawyer’s face lights up. “Right?”

  Dylan clutches my notebook to her chest. “It’s like emo crack for the soul.”

  Fuck my life. She might as well chop off my nuts.

  “Gee thanks.”

  “No,” Dylan says emphatically. “I mean that in the best way.”

  She suddenly stops talking and I can practically smell the wood burning from her thinking so hard.

  “Have you ever thought about writing songs?”

  That chicken must have been laced with some good shit because she’s talking crazy.

  “I don’t sing.”

  She laughs. “I know. But lots of musicians hire songwriters or buy songs from writers.” Her blue eyes become saucers. “Holy shit.” Her gaze flicks to Sawyer. “Landon.”

  Sawyer practically squeals. “Oh, my God, Landon.”

  Bewildered as fuck, my gaze bounces between them. “Who the hell is Landon?”

  “Landon Parker,” they both shout like a couple of schoolgirls.

  I blink. “That really clears things up.”

  Dylan lets out a groan of frustration. “Landon Parker is this incredibly talented musician. He mostly sings alternative rock, but his voice, along with his piano and guitar skills are so mind-blowing he could sing anything and people would go crazy.” She grins. “Anyway, he’s total indie and not into any of the skeevy shit that comes with stardom because he doesn’t want to be a sellout or have some pop record label turn him into something he isn’t.”

  “Can you get to the point?” I urge because she’s starting to bore me.

  She slaps my arm. “I am.” She blows out a breath. “Anyhow, I reached out to him about becoming his manager and eventually when I open up my indie label, having him come on board. We met a few times, and we’re this—” She moves her thumb and pointer finger centimeters apart. “Close to making it official.”

  “That’s awesome,” I tell her.

  Even though I don’t know shit about rock music, I know she’s always wanted to manage artists and open her own record label. It’s cool as shit watching her dreams come true.

  “I’m really proud of you.”

  She beams. “Thanks, but that’s still not the point.”

  And she’s lost me again.

  “Anyway, he’s working on finishing his upcoming album, but he’s stuck on the last two songs and has some writer’s block.”

  I gesture for her to cut to the chase. “Okay, and?”

  She points to my notebook. “You can help him. Hell, you guys could sit down and create epic music together.”

  The look I shoot her conveys exactly what I think about that.

  “Yeah…no.”

  Her jaw drops. “What do you mean no?”

  I flash her some teeth. “No, thank you?”

  She grabs me by the shoulders. “Oakley, do you understand that this opportunity might change your life?” Desperation flickers in her eyes. “I know you don’t believe in yourself, but I do.”

  “Me too,” Sawyer adds.

  It’s not that I’m ungrateful for their support, it’s just…I don’t fucking know.

  This shit is foreign as hell to me. Plus, songwriting sounds like it requires a lot of concentration and focus. Not to mention skill.

  Three things I’ve always lacked.

  Hell, I flunked out of my first senior year of high school, and if it wasn’t for Sawyer tutoring me, I would have flunked my second attempt too.

  “Look, I appreciate the offer, really, I do. But I don’t know the first thing about writing songs.”

  It’s best I stick to the only shit I’m good at.

  Sweeping and mopping floors.

  Dylan’s disappointment is palpable. “Okay, but if you ever change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  I can tell she wants to argue, but fortunately she drops it.

  I swivel my gaze around my apartment. “This visit was nice and all, but I want to get to the gym before it closes.”

  Sawyer and Dylan exchange a glance.

  “I think that’s his way of giving us the boot,” Sawyer states.

  Dylan wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Oak.”

  I return her hug. “Love you, too.”

  I start to back away, but she grabs my cheeks. “I didn’t say it before, but I’m really proud of you. And if you ever need anything, please call me. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t ever want you to feel like you don’t have me, okay? I’ll always be there for you.”

  Well, shit.

  The muscles in my chest draw tight. Dylan and C.J. were the only good things to come out of my father’s marriage with Crystal.

  “I know.”

  After smacking a kiss on my cheek, Dylan ambles to the door.

  Next thing I know, Sawyer is wrapping her arms around me.

  Now I’m convinced they put something in that chicken because these girls are way too goddamn sappy.

  “You have to stop looking at me like that,” Sawyer whispers against my chest.

  “Like what?”

  “Like you broke me.” Her eyes are glassy when she looks up at me. “I chose to take the Adderall, remember?”

  And I chose to give them to you.

  It’s something I’ll never absolve myself for.

  I want to rub away the knot of blame forming in my chest, but Sawyer won’t let me go.

  “No one in the world is perfect, Oak. We all make mistakes. The important thing is that you learn from them.”

  “I know.”

  Holy hell do I fucking know. I’m reminded of all my mistakes every single fucking day.

  “Love you,” she utters before unhinging herself from me.

  “Love you too, short stack.”

  Shortly after they leave, I realize my notebook is missing.

  Chapter 30

  Bianca

  A silky feather-light touch gliding down my body has my eyes fluttering open against the sunlight.

  “Morning,” Stone whispers next to me in his bed.

  When I look down, I notice my t-shirt is pushed up past my breasts and he’s sliding a single red rose down my torso. “Good morning.” I gesture to the rose. “What’s the special occasion?”

  He smiles from ear to ear. “You go wedding dress shopping today, silly.”

  Oh…right.

  He plants a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I got you some breakfast.” He gestures to the nightstand. “It’s your favorite.”

  When I glance over, I notice a glass of orange juice along with a blueberry muffin.

  I don’t inform him that banana nut muffins are actually my favorite because the gesture was incredibly sweet.

  “Thank yo—” I start to say but he moves my panties to the side, exposing me. “What are you doing?”

  He licks two of his fingers. “I want you to enjoy your breakfast.” My nipples pucker when he slips his now wet fingers inside me. “While I enjoy mine.”

  For the first time in a long time, genuine arousal for him courses through me.<
br />
  “Screw the breakfast,” I breathe when he starts moving his fingers. “Don’t stop.”

  “I can’t wait to marry you,” he murmurs as he picks up his pace. “I can’t wait to fuck this tight pussy every night for the rest of my life.”

  Holy shit. Stone never talks dirty.

  I always wished he would, but I lost hope when it became clear he was never going to utter anything more than, ‘you feel so good’ during sex.

  But now?

  It’s like I woke up in an alternate universe because everything feels right between us again.

  “Tell me more,” I urge as I clutch the bedsheets. “Tell me every dirty thing on your mind.”

  “You feel so good,” he rasps. “Like a dream.”

  Ugh.

  “What else?”

  He circles my clit and I swear I see stars. My orgasm is a mere heartbeat away. “Your pussy—”

  A loud knock on his bedroom door startles us both.

  “Stone,” his mother calls out. “I need you to take out the garbage.”

  “In a minute, Ma,” he grunts, thoroughly annoyed.

  That makes two of us.

  I swear the woman knows exactly what we were up to.

  It’s no secret she’s not my biggest fan—especially after Stone punched his brother and forbid him from being in our wedding party—which makes the fact that we’re all going to be living together soon…awkward as hell.

  I sigh in defeat. It’s safe to say my impending orgasm is long gone.

  “I need you to do it now,” his mother demands. “If you can’t, then ask Bianca.” A moment later her footsteps fade down the hall, but not before I hear her mutter, “It’s not like she does anything else around here…besides my son.”

  Removing his fingers, Stone exhales heavily. “She’s just upset because you didn’t invite her to go dress shopping with you.” He kisses my stomach. “She’ll get over it eventually.”

  More like next century.

  “I didn’t invite my dad’s wife Nadia to come either,” I point out. “It’s me who’s picking out the wedding dress, therefore it should be me who decides who comes along.”

  And the only people I want there are my maid-of-honor Sawyer, and my bridesmaid Dylan.

  It’s so much less pressure that way.

  “Plus,” I continue. “I told your mom that after I find the right dress, she’s welcome to come to the shop and see it.”