Sell Out (19 page)

“What am I supposed to do with you, Cody? You’re the captain!” He paced the room, his temper as elevated as mine. “You want to tell me what in the world is going through your head?”

“No sir.” I could tell him about Blake’s dirty move, but it wouldn’t matter. Actions have consequences and despite the fallout, I didn’t regret hitting him. Or standing up for myself.

He pointed an accusing finger at me. “You boys better settle your stuff and I mean now, or so help me, I will kick you both off the team and call this year a wash.” He got in my face, his eyes blazing. “You got me?”

I met his infuriated stare. “Yes, Coach.”

“Now, go home! I’ve already seen you way too much today.”

I stormed toward the locker room keeping my eyes straight ahead. I was too on edge to deal with anybody mouthing off to me. The gym was back in full swing, the echo of wrestlers vying for dominance bounced off the wood floors. The assistant coaches monitored matches with keen focus, and no one intercepted me.

His eye already starting to bruise, Blake stood by his locker when I entered. Turning, he slammed it shut and stared at me long and hard. I stared right back.

He broke our silence. “Next time you decide to take what’s mine, you might want to do it in a less public place.”

I forced myself not to flinch. He knew about Skylar. He freaking knew and that’s why he set me up. “Good. Saves me the trouble of telling you.” My dismissal made him falter, and I watched him trying to rein in his anger.

“You and me. We’re done. You hear me? Done.”

“We were done weeks ago. The minute Skylar walked into the classroom.” My gaze flickered from the red split in his lower lip to the phone in his hand. “I suppose my name’s already back on the Torments List.” I scanned his face for any proof that he was responsible but was met with only a calculated smile.

He stepped forward, our faces barely a foot apart. “I don’t need some silly list that doesn’t even exist. I brought you to glory, and I will bring you down, one notch at a time.”

His eyes showed he believed his words. Believed he had the power to control. What he didn’t realize was that I was no longer willing to be his whipping boy. “If you hurt Skylar to get to me, I will hunt you down, and there will be no one there to pull me off next time.”

He backed away, still looking much too smug and self-assured. “You don’t get it, Cody. Skylar isn’t the weapon. She’s the prize. And I don’t lose.”

Then he was gone.

Nausea assaulted my stomach, and I ran for the sink. Gripping it tightly, I concentrated on breathing in and out. I was in this locker room when my life changed. I gave up that day. Chose survival over fighting.

I looked up to see a different man in the mirror. This man wasn’t a victim. This man was set apart. And this man was done following orders.

Whatever the backlash, taking a stand was worth it.

I was finally free.

T
he most beautiful
sound I’d heard in weeks greeted me as I walked into my house. My father lightly strummed his guitar and sang a soft melody. Setting my backpack down as quietly as I could, I tiptoed to the living room. He rested comfortably on the couch, his bare feet propped up. His hair was still shaggy from sleep, but his coloring was the best I’d seen it in days. I was grateful the chemo didn’t attack his hair this time. Seeing him like this almost made me forget he was so sick. Almost.

Easing my way to the other end of the couch, I sat and smiled at him. Immediately, the strumming stopped.

“No, please, keep playing.” I needed the music, especially after all the drama at school.

He started again and I snuggled in, resting my head on the armrest while tucking my feet under his thigh. Eyes closed, I let the melody wash over me. I knew all the words, but I wouldn’t dare tarnish his voice with my tone-deficient one.

After letting the song fade to an end, he set his guitar on the coffee table and let out a satisfied sigh.

“You seem good today.” I sat up, crossing my feet under me.

“Yeah, princess, today is good.” He turned with a grin that went all the way to his eyes. I almost cheered at the picture it made. I hadn’t seen this version of my dad in a long time.

“Speaking of good,” he continued. “I have some great news.”

“What’s that?”

“Ricky and the boys are coming for Thanksgiving. We may even try and lay down the rest of the album we started.” My father always referred to the band as Ricky and the boys. Mostly because he and Ricky were the first members, and they picked up Raif and Stinger later. They were my family, so the news lightened the heaviness in my heart.

“Really? That’s awesome. We haven’t had Thanksgiving together in years.” I pushed aside the nagging thought that this might be our last one and chose to focus on the positive. Daddy looked good. Surely, the chemo was working.

“Also, Josie is coming by tonight, and we are going to have a nice family dinner. Sound good?”

My smile dissolved. “Why can’t it just be you and me? We haven’t had any time together, and you’re actually feeling good tonight.”

The whine in my voice made my father sigh in exasperation. “Sweetheart, Josie’s been by my side through all the really bad days. It’s only fair that she gets to be here on the good days.”

“I could be there for you too, if you’d let me.” The words came out in a mumble, but he heard me.

My father reached out and ran his hand over my hair. I leaned in, enjoying the comfort of his touch. “You’re my daughter. I’m supposed to be your hero. Your rock. It would hurt me to be so weak in front of you. Can you understand that?”

I nodded. My dad asked very little of me, but this seemed to matter to him a great deal.

He clapped his hands together and picked up his guitar again. “Any requests?”

Smiling, I leaned back and closed my eyes again. “Yes. ‘My Little Heart.’ ” My father had written the song when I was born but never recorded it. I loved having a piece of him the world had never heard.

The music floated around us, his voice as crisp and perfect as a nightingale in song. But he didn’t even make it to the second verse before the front door shut and shoes padded across the marble floors. Only one other person would just walk in. Aunt Josephine.

Irritation shot through me like a blade. She was an intruder, ending the best moment I’d had with my dad in months. Wasn’t it enough that he’d chosen to share his hurts with her? Did she have to take the little time that was left for me?

The music stopped, and I heard my father set down his guitar and stand.

I was sure he was hugging her, but I feigned sleep. They whispered quietly and left the room. The silence felt deafening after the beauty that had been there seconds before. I reached for my phone, wondering if Cody was out of practice yet.

Zoe’s name popped up.

Zoe:
Cody attacked Blake during wrestling practice.

I pressed my temples. Normal felt further away than ever. More surprises. More rumors. Was it ever going to stop?

Me:
How did you hear this?

Zoe:
Ashley told me. She saw them all in the parking lot. Blake had a black eye and split lip.

Me:
How’s Cody?

Zoe:
Fine, I guess. She said he walked straight to Lindsay’s car. They sat together for like ten minutes before he finally went to his truck. I guess the rumors really are true.

I was too stunned to know what to type back.

Zoe:
Hey, do you want to go to the mall?

Me:
Can’t. Dinner with the family. I’ll see you tomorrow.

I bolted to my room and picked up the Pop’s Burger napkin I’d saved from Friday night. My mind immediately recalled every moment of that night. Cody’s laugh. His strong arms around me, his lips. The way he looked into my eyes.

I had to calm down. I had to think rationally. I had to make a choice.

Trust Cody or ends things before he broke my heart.

I
t only took
fifteen minutes to discover who Blake’s weapon would be.

Lindsay sat in her car, head down, crying. I tapped on the passenger side window and pulled open the door.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she said between sobs. “It’s all my fault.”

I slid into the seat but kept the door open. “What are you talking about? This is between Blake and me. You had nothing to do with it.”

She wiped at her cheeks. “But I did. I told him I gave you my password. I told him you knew about the Torments List.” Her fist hit the steering wheel. “I’m the worst person ever.”

I shook my head trying to make sense of her broken sentences. “Wait. When?”

“He came over Saturday when my parents were out. I wasn’t going to let him in, but he was so spastic and angry that, I don’t know, I thought he might break down the door or something. He accused us of sleeping together. Can you believe that? And when I tried to deny it, he said my hanging all over you was why the school thought I was a slut.” She shifted in her seat to face me. “Cody, I snapped. I yelled at him. I’ve
never
yelled at him.” She dipped her head. “He interrogated me until I finally just told him whatever he wanted to know.”

I had a bad feeling that Blake’s “interrogation” was more than verbal. Not that I’d had any luck in getting her to admit it.

We sat in silence. There was so much I wanted to say, but trying to convince her that Blake was responsible for his own actions was like trying to convince a vegan to eat meat. She’d been programmed to take the blame for years.

“Oh, look at this. Two love birds,” A voice crooned, and I whipped around to see Jill standing in the space between my leg and the open door.

Arm perched on top of the window frame, Jill leaned over and sent a lethal smile to Lindsay. “I knew you were easy, but seriously, servicing Cody in the school parking lot is a little much.”

Lindsay’s face went sheet white.

“Shut up, Jill,” I hissed.

She backed away when I stood. “What is it about her that’s so freaking fantastic, huh? How is she any different than me?”

It had taken me a long time to truly grasp Matt’s words about being set apart. About using my influence to make a difference in someone’s life outside of my own. I’d let people down in the past. Turned away when I should have intervened. But I knew what I stood for now.

Lindsay was my redemption. My way to vindicate Fatty James.

“She isn’t, Jill, which should terrify you more than anything. Because one wrong move and this is you. That is what our silence has done.”

Her eyes widened, a hint of fear breaking past her stony stare. “She did this to herself.”

Very carefully, I shot back words she would know well, “Sure Jill, keep telling yourself that.”

*

A two-door guardhouse
and security personnel with clipboards protected the entry in to Skylar’s neighborhood. I slowed to a stop and rolled down my window.

“Cody James. I’m here to see Skylar Wyld.”

The balding man scrunched his eyebrows and examined his sheet. Once satisfied, he lifted the barrier arm, and I drove forward.

Following the directions she texted, I wound my way past mansions three times the size of my house with acres of land between them. At the end of its very own street, Skylar’s house glowed against the setting sun. The two-story structure resembled a Spanish castle with terracotta shingles and cream stucco. My family wasn’t poor by any means, but this level of wealth brought an immediate reminder that I was dating a rock star’s daughter. Well, hopefully I was still dating her. Her texts had been too short to give me any sense of security.

I parked the car and gave myself a final pep talk before trudging up the three marble steps to the arched entryway. I had an hour before I needed to be at the radio station. I prayed it was enough time to fix everything today had broken. At least I had my topic for tonight—lies and heartbreak.

The door opened before my hand ever made contact and Skylar slipped out. Her long hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, and her dress and boots were replaced with jeans and a t-shirt. I preferred this look—natural, beautiful. I stepped back, giving her room to come onto the porch. She shut the door behind her.

“I’m not ready for you to meet my dad yet.” Her arms crossed, shielding herself from me. Women aren’t easy to read, but everything in her stance screamed trouble.

“Sure. That’s fine. Do you want go somewhere?”

She shook her head, her mouth formed into a small pout.

When I reached out to touch her, she took one step back.

“I thought we were going to talk?”

“That was before you punched Blake and hung out with Lindsay in the parking lot. You said no more surprises, but that’s all it’s ever been with you. Since we’ve met you’ve been hot and cold. Sending me mixed signals. Giving me one half of a story. It’s not enough.”

It was unbelievable how fast Blake’s minions worked. I pointed to the steps. “Can we at least sit?”