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

by Ashley Jade

I turn my head as some guy—a biker—by the looks of his white t-shirt, leather vest, and jeans takes a seat on the bar stool beside me.

  “You could say that,” I mutter.

  I debate grabbing my purse and heading home, but then he utters, “You’re way too gorgeous to be upset, honey. Let me buy you a drink and take the sting out.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to turn him down…but then it occurs to me that two can play Oakley’s little game.

  I might be the one coming out of our little fling heartbroken, but I’ll be dammed if I’m not going to give him a taste of his own medicine first.

  I quickly appraise the guy. Closely cropped dark hair and warm brown eyes…short, scruffy beard. Looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties at most. He’s not as tall as Oakley, but not short either. Overall, his face isn’t bad to look at. Hell, he could even pass for good-looking in the right light.

  He’ll do.

  I give him a sweet smile. “Sure. I’ll take—”

  “Nothing,” Oakley grunts as he glares at the man beside me. “Because she’s only eighteen.”

  The guy’s eyes widen, but I lean into him and purr, “Eighteen’s still legal.”

  The guy drops his gaze to my chest briefly before he smiles. “In that case, why don’t you get my new friend a soda?” He peels his gaze away from me and looks at Oakley. “I’ll take another beer.”

  Oakley’s nostrils flare as he fills up his glass and for a moment I think he’s going to pour the beer over his head. “What the hell are you doing here, Bianca?”

  Ignoring the sharp ache in my heart, I flash him some teeth. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  Visibly confused, the guy looks between us. “Do you two know each other?”

  Oakley’s eyes narrow into tiny slits as he hands me a glass of soda. “Yeah. She’s my—”

  “Neighbor.” I run my fingernail along the rim of the glass and focus all my attention on the guy sitting next to me. “Oakley rents the guesthouse in our back yard from my father.”

  The guy whistles. “Guesthouse, huh? Sounds fancy.”

  “It is.” Slipping my foot out of my heel, I trail it up the length of his calf. “You should come see it. My dad’s out of town for work right now, so we’d have the whole place to ourselves.”

  Intrigue flashes in his orbs. “Is that so?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Oakley’s jaw clench.

  “My name is Bianca.” Holding out my hand, I sweep my tongue along my bottom lip. “And the name I’ll be calling out later is?”

  The guy’s mouth nearly drops open as he takes my hand. “Ranger.” He leans in. “Are you always so forward?”

  I take a long sip of my drink. “Only when I see something I want.” Biting my bottom lip, I add, “Now what do you say we quit all this small talk and go fuck in the bathroom?”

  “Well, shit,” he mutters as he stands up. “I’m not sure what your demons are, honey, but I have no objection to you taking them out on me tonight.”

  With that, he stalks toward the bathroom.

  I’m about to join him, but Oakley’s hand wraps around my wrist. “Bianca.”

  His voice is downright feral. However, it’s no match for the dark, threatening glint in his eye.

  I have to remind myself to breathe because if looks could kill, I’m positive I would no longer have a pulse.

  “If you do this…we’re fucking done.”

  I sharpen my gaze. “We were done the moment I walked in here and caught you flirting with that skank you’ve been fucking behind my back.” He tries to speak, but I yank my wrist out of his grip. “Enjoy the rest of your summer, asshole.”

  I force myself to keep it together as I head for the bathroom.

  “I have a proposition for you,” I tell Ranger as I lock the bathroom door behind me.

  It’s safe to say he’s confused.

  Especially when I take a small wad of cash out of my purse.

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “If you stay here with me for the next ten minutes and tell everyone in the bar you fucked me, I’ll give you three hundred dollars.”

  He eyes me warily. “Why?”

  “Because my demon happens to be the bartender who screwed some other woman behind my back and I’m not the kind of girl who takes that shit without making them suffer.”

  He studies my face for a beat. I have no idea what he sees but it has his own face softening. “Honey I can promise you he’ll be suffering plenty for letting someone like you go.” He juts his chin at the cash in my hand. “Keep your money. I’ll help you out for free.”

  I’m about to thank him for being so kind, but my phone vibrates with an incoming text.

  Oakley: The woman you saw me with is the owner’s wife, and the old man at the bar is my boss and her husband. And yeah, sometimes Janet does get a little handsy, but I’ve never fucked her. I’d tell you not to jump to conclusions next time, but it doesn’t fucking matter because we’re over.

  I feel the color drain from my face with every word I read. By the time I’m done, my stomach is coiled so tight it physically hurts.

  As someone wise once said—if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

  However, in my case, I didn’t win anything.

  I lost everything.

  “Don’t tell anyone anything,” I call out as I run out the bathroom door.

  I quickly scan the bar, but there’s no sign of Oakley.

  Swallowing my pride, I walk up to the woman he wasn’t flirting with before.

  “Do you know where Oakley is?”

  “You just missed him, sweetheart. He said he wasn’t feeling well and took off a few minutes ago.”

  Shit.

  I sprint out the door. Dread twists my guts when I don’t see his car in the parking lot.

  A powerless feeling rises up my throat as I fish my phone out of my purse and bring it to my ear.

  It goes straight to voicemail.

  “No, no, no,” I mutter as I dial his number a second time.

  He’s like grains of sand slipping through my fingers. And I have no one to blame but myself because I let my jealousy get the best of me and ruin what we had.

  My heart does a painful flip when it goes straight to voicemail again.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into the receiver.

  So fucking sorry.

  Chapter 45

  Bianca

  “You’re upset,” Oakley says when I open my door.

  So much for trying to keep my expression neutral.

  “Did you fuck her?”

  My stomach knots. His silence is deafening.

  I’m about to slam the door in his face, but he wedges his foot between it and the frame.

  “Would it bother you if I did?”

  My glare is glacial. “Fuck you.”

  That answer has his lips curling into a smug smirk. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Irritation mixed with pain strikes. “Go away.”

  He takes a step in my direction, causing my heart to go haywire. “We both know that’s not what you really want.” Another step. “Unless you’ve turned into a coward.”

  I hate the way he always calls me on my shit. The way he forces me to face the things I’m not ready to face yet.

  “I have a boyfriend.”

  Indignation slices through the hard angles of his face. “You have a crutch, baby girl. A crutch you conveniently use whenever we get too close.”

  I don’t even know what to think right now, only that his words are making my head spin…because there’s so much truth laced in them.

  But I refuse to let him know that.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, I do.” He leans in, his voice a penetrating rasp. “Because I know you, Bianca Covington.” He clasps my jaw in his hand. “We speak a secret language that no one else can understand, and we feel things for each other that don’t make sen
se to the rest of the world…just us.”

  My heart pounds a steady tattoo against my ribs as I reach up and clutch his t-shirt, drawing him closer.

  I hate that he’s right.

  I hate that I have all these feelings for him, because my life would be way less complicated if I didn’t.

  But mostly?

  I hate that he has the ability to tear me wide open and break me…

  Because I love him in a way I’ve never loved anyone else.

  A way I never can love anyone else.

  And I didn’t even need all my memories to come back in order to realize it.

  I just needed him.

  I can feel the tears falling down my cheeks as I peer up at him. “Did you fuck her?”

  I have to know.

  “I didn’t.” A dark note enters his voice. “But maybe I should have.”

  His words are the equivalent of a slap.

  My expression must give away how that statement makes me feel because he says, “Not that I owe you an explanation, but I met her at a meeting. I told her to come by because she said she was having a hard time and needed someone to talk to. I ordered us some takeout and we talked. That was it.”

  I search his eyes for signs that he’s lying, but there aren’t any. “That was it?”

  His expression softens the slightest bit, as if he knows how much this conversation hurts me. “Yes.”

  Evidently, I jumped to conclusions about him hooking up with a woman…

  Just like I did in the past.

  The silence stretches out between us until the only sound in the room is my frantic heart beating.

  “You said you needed to talk when you came to my apartment,” Oakley says after a few minutes have passed. “What’s up?”

  Sadness blooms in my chest because I know what I’m about to tell him won’t be easy to hear.

  I gesture to my bed. “You should sit down.”

  He doesn’t.

  “What’s going on?”

  I draw in a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell him.

  Writing a note is one thing, saying the words aloud is another.

  “You remember how I told you my mom committed suicide?”

  He nods solemnly.

  “Well, I never told you this, but she was talking to someone on the phone beforehand. She was really upset, and she kept screaming things like she loved him and that he promised they’d get married and be together.”

  I can see the exact moment it dawns on him. “So your mom was having an affair?” He rubs his face. “Christ. I’m sorry—”

  I hold up a hand, silencing him. “There’s more.” I motion to my bed again. “You’re gonna want to sit for this. Trust me.”

  When he does, I continue. “Obviously, I never told anyone what I overheard before the accident. Hell, I didn’t even understand what it was I was hearing until I was older. Liam suspected something, but I didn’t…” I let my sentence trail off.

  “Want to believe it,” Oakley finishes for me.

  “Exactly. My father and her had some issues, but I thought they were in love. I never thought my mom would cheat on him.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Anyway, when I was fourteen I decided I had enough of not knowing and did some digging. I found her old cell phone stashed away in a box in the closet and looked up the last number she called.” The band around my chest tightens. “It turns out it was her psychiatrist…Dr. Young.”

  For a moment he looks downright incredulous, but then he hangs his head. “Shit.”

  “I know…but, Oakley?” I wait for him to look at me before I say, “There’s still more. And none of it’s good, so I really need you to let me get this out.”

  Despite the concern that floods his face, he nods. “Okay.”

  “I sat on the knowledge for a bit because I didn’t know what to do with it. But then when I was sixteen, I decided to start targeting him.”

  He raises a brow. “Targeting him how?”

  “I blackmailed him. I didn’t need the money obviously, but I didn’t want him having any…so I used to make him write me large checks and cash them in exchange for not telling his wife or daughter about the affair.”

  It was relatively easy because my father was so oblivious back then, he never checked the bank account he set up for me.

  “After, I’d donate them to various charities.”

  Not that doing so makes me an upstanding citizen by any means.

  Oakley blows out a ragged breath. “Jesus Christ, Bianca.”

  “I know.”

  His head snaps up. “You could have come to me. We could have figured out a better way—”

  “You hated me remember?” I remind him.

  His blue eyes harden. “I never fucking hated you.”

  Well, he might after I tell him this.

  “Dr. Young wasn’t the only one I blackmailed,” I whisper. “Hayley became my target, too.”

  He makes an angry noise in his throat. “Fucking hell.” He stands. “The videos.”

  I give him a sheepish nod.

  His fury is tangible. “Goddammit, Bianca.”

  “I know it was wrong. I wish I never did it.”

  Even though I didn’t go public with them, it still doesn’t matter.

  The intent was there.

  One wrong move on her end and I would have ruined her life.

  A life that was already ruined by him.

  “It gets worse,” I croak, the room tilting beneath me. “Do you remember the night I stole your phone and met up with Hayley?”

  “Yeah.” His face turns grim. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.” I look down at the floor because I can’t bear to look him in the eyes. “But I figured out that Hayley was feeding you a bunch of lies about me on purpose…and that she knew about her dad’s affair with my mom.”

  “Nah.” He shakes his head. “Hayley and I were close. Even after we broke up, we remained friends. Plus, she knew Jace and Cole were my boys. She would have told me if her dad had an affair with your mother.”

  “No, she wouldn’t.”

  A snarl rumbles in his chest. “The fuck she wouldn’t—”

  “She wouldn’t because she was used to keeping her father’s secrets,” I blurt out.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  I start pacing. “She confessed something to me that night. Something terrible.”

  “Like what?”

  I stop pacing and turn to face him. “Her father molested her.”

  He looks like I just ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. “No.” He takes a giant step back, as if he’s trying to put as much physical distance between us as he can. “She would have told me. Hayley knew she could tell me anything.” His hands curl into fists as an array of emotions scatter across his face. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

  I take a step closer, but that only makes him retreat even more.

  “Oakley—”

  He’s out the door before I can stop him.

  Chapter 46

  Bianca

  I bang on his door. “Let me in, Oakley.”

  I know he’s home because I saw his motorcycle in the parking lot.

  “Please,” I implore. “You don’t even have to talk, just let me in so I can be with you.”

  I press my forehead to the wood of the door. “Don’t make me beg.” Desperation flickers in my chest and I try again. “Dammit. If you ever fucking cared about me, you’ll—”

  Finally, the door swings open.

  Oakley looks so out of sorts, so dejected, my heart breaks.

  And that’s when I spot the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on his coffee table.

  Fuck.

  I knew it would be hard for him to hear what happened to Hayley, but it never crossed my mind that it would trigger a relapse.

  “I was high the first time we had sex,” he says, discernibly lost in deep thought. “I didn’t even remember it. I just remember her telling me it was her
first time after.” He plops down on the futon. “And the first time she told me she loved me…I panicked.” His eyes close. “Because all I could think about was how bad she was in bed and that I needed to end things before she got even more attached to me.”

  I know how much regret and guilt can twist a person up inside and I want nothing more than to take his pain away.

  I go to touch him, but he pulls away. “Oakley.”

  “And now she’s dead.” Reaching over, he grabs the bottle. “Because of me.”

  I place my hand over his. “This won’t fix it.”

  “You’re right.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “But it will help me go numb, so I don’t have to feel this fucking shit anymore.”

  “You can’t stay drunk and high your whole life,” I remind him. “Sooner or later you’ll be sober…and the pain will still be there.” I draw in a painful breath. “But so will the people who love you.” Reaching up, I cup his cheek. “So, before you take that first drink and throw everything you’ve worked so hard for away…trust me enough to get you through this. Because I love you, Oakley, and that means you won’t ever have to fight your demons alone.”

  I’ll fight them with him, for him, and beside him.

  Whatever it takes.

  He’s still staring at the bottle of unopened whiskey on his coffee table when there’s a knock on the door.

  I ended up texting Dylan and asking her to come over…along with Oakley’s dad.

  I figured the more support Oakley has right now, the better.

  His father doesn’t look happy to see me on the other side of the door. “What’s going on?” He bounces a sleepy C.J. in his arms. “Dylan told me I needed to come over right away.”

  As if on cue, Dylan treks up the stairs. “What’s wrong?”

  Closing the front door behind me, I whisper, “Oakley’s sitting inside with a bottle of whiskey.”

  “What?” Dylan hisses.

  Mr. Zelenka’s disappointment is tangible. “Dammit.”

  “He didn’t open it…yet,” I inform them. “But he heard some really bad news and he’s having a hard time digesting it.”

  Mr. Zelenka gives me a look. “What kind of bad news?”