Saints: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Pawns of Patience Book 2) Read online

  “It’s a whole little book of help notes that go to Moby Dick. There’s a plot summary, but there’s also special quotes and stuff.” I flip casually through the pages of the short book, pausing when I see the highlighted section.

  It is not down on any map; true places never are.

  This is one of the most thoughtful gifts anyone has ever given me. We were just talking a few days ago about how I was struggling to get through Moby Dick. I feel like I need to know more about the book since obviously it had some special meaning to Hollis, but it’s not exactly my usual kind of read. I’m more of an angsty romance novel kind of girl.

  “Wow, this is really special.” I tilt my head as I look at him. It’s still hard for me sometimes to remember he’s not really the same guy that grabbed me so hard it left bruises the first night we met. Or the guy that kept me from talking to my best friend for weeks. All that stuff, I’m not sure where it came from, because Smith has proven by now that he’s actually sweet and thoughtful. This book certainly helps confirm that.

  “You’re special, Juliet.” I look up at him through my eyelashes, surprised to hear him suddenly sound so impassioned. “I know a lot of us were assholes to you when you showed up. That’s not how I want things to be. If that means helping you be the first one to find Hollis’ treasure so that the mystery can be laid to rest for once and for all, then I can accept that.”

  I laugh so suddenly it comes out as a snort. “Were? In case you hadn’t noticed, there are still plenty of people still being assholes.” I look around at the swirl of our classmates moving around us as they head to their lockers and to classes. “Including all the ones that are the kind of assholes that ignore what’s happening to other people just because it doesn’t involve them.”

  I haven’t forgotten that none of them stood up for me when Jax put up those pictures last semester. None of the new pictures ended up online at least, but thanks to Sadie I know that lots of them passed the pictures around in phone messages. Maybe if I get lucky, they’ll all end up going down for child pornography. I’m not eighteen yet, so I’m pretty sure that’s still a thing that could happen. Not that there’s any chance in hell I’d ever be the whistleblower on that. That would be one surefire way to make sure I never earned a place in Patience.

  Actually, there was one person who stood up to Jax. Patrick. I haven’t forgotten that black eye he gave him, though no one has brought it up since I asked Smith about it the night of my party.

  Speak of the devil, my gaze swings right just in time to see Patrick making his way toward us. It’s interesting, the differences between Smith and Patrick. Their appearances couldn’t be more different. Smith is barely wearing his uniform, the whole thing looking a little sloppy and unfinished. Like his tie, which is draped haphazardly around his neck. Whereas Patrick’s tie is neat and straight, his uniform worn strictly by the dress code. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that. Of course the headmaster’s son would wear his uniform properly.

  I’m just about to say hello to him—I thought we’d sort of bonded a little the morning after Kathryn’s death—when he pushes past me. His shoulder bumps me so hard it knocks me off balance for a second and I drop the book Smith’s just given me.

  Smith reaches down and picks it up, handing it back to me as I ask, “What was that about?”

  “Wonderboy is jealous,” Jax’s voice answers before Smith can. He appears just over my shoulder, having apparently walked up while I was distracted by Patrick. He tries to lay an overly familiar arm around me, but I brush him off with a sound of disgust.

  To my surprise, Smith shoots him a glare and gestures for him to move along. Jax rolls his eyes, but he does go. Which might actually be more surprising than seeing Smith stand up to him in the first place. Okay, it’s a minor version of standing up to him, but still, it’s more than he’s done before. It’s weird to think that something I said last night in anger might have really made a difference.

  Smith acts like nothing happened, changing the subject when I try to ask what that was all about. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and I think since we at least seem to have made a little progress, I have to accept that for now.

  As Smith walks me to class—History, where last semester’s incident happened—I can feel my stomach tighten into knots. My very first day at The Patience School might have been tough, but it’s nothing compared to how it feels to come back. There’s nothing quite like having my last lingering memories of this place be from fleeing it in a Civil War era hooker dress. I can’t believe I’m even stepping foot back here after all of that, but here I am. I wish I could call it being brave but the truth is I don’t know what else there is for me.

  I spent all of last semester doing my best to pretend I was okay with all the huge changes. New family? Okay. New house? How nice. New school? No problem. New name? Sure. It didn’t feel like I was allowed to say no thanks to it all. That would be crazy right? Who wouldn’t want to discover they come from a disgustingly wealthy family with a gorgeous estate in one of the most exclusive towns on the east coast?

  Patience has its share of flaws, but it is one hell of a place to call home. If only I could somehow figure out how to keep from losing myself completely in the process. Because even now, weeks later, I’m still remembering how Jake accused me of changing. The changes might be inevitable, but I have to wonder, at what cost?

  Chapter Five

  There are plenty of things that are bad ideas. Falling into an almost-relationship with someone you’re not sure you trust. Getting wrapped up in a family mystery that might just be a load of crap in the first place. And throwing a house party with free flowing booze in honor of a girl who quite possibly died because of a drinking-related incident.

  I’m responsible for two of those three things—and now I’m being dragged to the third. Smith turns his car onto the most crowded residential street Patience has.

  The houses are still humongous, but they’re packed in like sardines here. Cars line the curb on either side of the street. I’m sure the other people that live on this street must be thrilled about all of us piling onto their block for this horrifyingly inappropriate party Brent Forrester somehow thinks is a good idea.

  “I wish Sadie had ridden with us,” Smith murmurs almost under his breath as he maneuvers into an open spot someone just pulled out of. The party’s only been going for about an hour, I’m surprised to see people already ready to go. Maybe they realized how tasteless this is and grew a conscience. Ha.

  I nod, answering Smith even though I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or himself. “Me too.” Smith proposed all three of us riding together, but Sadie changed the plan on us today during lunch. She decided to ride here with Cece instead, and after she told us that, she joined Cece and Cece’s new entourage for lunch.

  It’s the first time I’ve eaten lunch without her since I started eating at her table instead of with Ace last semester. She didn’t even offer an explanation, just told us that’s what she was doing and then disappeared. Of course, that was also the day the O’Culligan twins were out with the flu and Allie Townsend missed school for a horse show.

  Yes, I hate myself a little for knowing what’s going on in these people’s lives.

  Those three girls only ever sit with us when they’re feeling like flirting hard with one of the guys, usually Jax or Patrick, especially now that Smith is spending so much time with me. Normally I’m just annoyed by their presence, but today I caught myself missing them as I got left abandoned with only me and the three boys.

  I do have to admit lunch surprised me. I braced myself for flying insult or inappropriate comments, but mostly there was just awkward silence and the guys taking turns glaring at each other. I don’t know what’s up with them this year, but it seems to me that none of them are getting along nearly as well as they did when I first met them.

  Actually, I could say the same about Sadie and me. I feel like I’m constantly on eggshells around her ever since she came b
ack from rehab. Rehab which, for the record, definitely didn’t work. If anything, it’s like she came home and doubled down on the drinking.

  There’s been several days she was asked to leave school early. Other students are starting to talk.

  Smith’s been on edge a lot, too. Constantly worried about checking in on Sadie and his mom. Apparently they’re at each other’s throats constantly. I’m sure part of that is that Celia keeps getting called to pick Sadie up from school. And Grant Harrington has been working out of town almost nonstop since the night he rescued me from the police station.

  Yeah, I’ve really gotten too invested in all these people’s lives, clearly.

  Thinking about Celia picking Sadie up does remind me of something I was wondering about. I look over at Smith as he puts the car in park. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Always,” he says, reaching across the center console so he can squeeze my thigh reassuringly. Though, his hand is high enough to make me think that’s not his only motive. He’s copping quite the feel of my upper thigh at the moment.

  “Why doesn’t Sadie drive?” I’ve already established some theories of my own, but I’m interested in getting confirmation. As weird as Sadie’s been acting, I want to know what exactly it is I’m up against. If Kathryn and Cece had never told me about Sadie’s addiction, I might not have recognized her problem with alcohol right away, but now I’m starting to wonder if Sadie’s problem is worse than I initially thought.

  Smith rubs his thumb over his bottom lip as he squeezes my thigh again. He looks like he’s thinking hard about my question. I start preparing myself for getting the brush off or some kind of canned answer that’s not quite the truth.

  “She got a DUI last year,” he says finally, surprising me with the truth. “It was before you came. We had like two weeks left of school, and she showed up wasted. Headmaster Dupont pulled her out of first period and started walking her to the office so he could call our parents to come get her.” He pauses, swallowing hard as he turns his head to look at me more fully. “Are you sure you want to hear all this from me? Sadie would probably tell you herself if you asked her.”

  The question makes me feel guilty, but now that Smith’s started telling me I just want to hear everything. So I answer carefully, “Yes, I’m sure. I think it’s easier for you to tell me than it would be for her. Especially since she’s… struggling so much right now.”

  “When Dupont turned his back, Sadie took off by herself. She got in her car and plowed through the parking lot and actually ended up taking out the sign in front of the school.” My eyebrows shoot sky high in surprise. That’s more than a minor accident. Smith nods gravely. “The sign we have now is a replacement my dad had to pay for to keep the whole thing hush-hush. That, and now Sadie has to have regular meetings with Dr. Peterson, the counselor.”

  “Oh, I wondered about that actually.” Mostly because of how Jax reacted when I had to meet with the counselor last semester about my photos being posted all over the goddamn internet.

  Smith scrunches his nose. I think it’s grossly cute when he does it. I almost forget what we were talking about. But then he says, “Y’know, no one around here really trusts Peterson.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard. Why is that?” I can’t believe Smith’s being so forthcoming. I’m sure it has absolutely nothing to do with me mentioning a few weeks ago about how Ace used to always answer all my questions. I’m just glad something got through to him. This feels a lot closer to an actual relationship when I feel like I’m allowed to speak freely. Well, somewhat freely.

  “Peterson only started here a couple years ago when I was a freshman. He’s not really one of us—he’s an outsider.” Smith catches his teeth on his bottom lip, so I know he knows how much of a mistake the words were.

  “Like me, you mean?” It’s the elephant in the room… er, car.

  Smith holds his hands up in that same surrendering gesture I’ve seen him use a dozen times before. “That wasn’t what I said.”

  “No, of course not.” Because he wouldn’t dare say it, not now. Back in August or September, he might have said exactly that, but now he only thinks it to himself. I know he wants me to believe he doesn’t still think that way, but I still see it sometimes. Like in the way he looked at me when I walked out of the house tonight to meet him wearing a ragged old band t-shirt instead of something from my Pearl-purchased wardrobe.

  “Juliet—”

  “It’s fine, really.” Mostly because if I act like it’s not fine, I’m going to ruin this whole night for us. Or worse, run Smith off and end up stuck here with no ride home. Since there’s no way in hell I’ll ever trust any of these other people for a ride home ever again after what happened with Ace. Besides, if I let myself fall apart every time someone said something slightly shitty I would definitely not have survived here as long as I have.

  Smith sends me a look that says he’s not so sure it is fine, but I smile and push the car door open, climbing out before he can say something that will only make things worse.

  He meets me on the sidewalk, offering me his hand. I wrap my hand around the crook of his arm instead. Still touching, but with a little more distance after some of the shit he’s said recently. Smith has gotten pretty damn good at putting his foot in his mouth.

  We start making our way towards the party at the other end of the block. We only go a few steps before Smith seems to all but have forgotten the problem in the car. He starts talking about some sort of drama between two people whose names I don’t even recognize. They’re dating apparently, or, they were, it sounds like. I’m barely listening as he talks, already annoyed enough with myself for how wrapped up I’ve gotten in the lives of the people of Patience.

  There’s something else that distracts me, too. A figure up ahead that I distinctly recognize despite the fact that it’s been months since I met him. A plan formulates quickly in my mind. Just as we reach the edge of the driveway for the house we’re going to—you can tell which one it is from the horde of teenagers spilling out from every door—I put my plan into motion.

  “Oh, shoot.” I stop, using my grip on Smith to make him stop as well. “I think I left my phone in your car.” It’s in my back pocket. “Could I borrow your keys? I’ll go back and get it.”

  Smith shrugs. “I’ll walk back over there with you. C’mon.” He starts to walk that way but I keep my feet planted. He frowns at me. “You okay?” I’m acting super sketchy right now. I need to chill or he’s definitely going to think something’s up.

  “Yeah, of course. I was just gonna tell you to go on inside and I’ll catch up. That way you can check on Sadie.” I throw the last part in for good measure. Smith might not want me wandering around out here by myself, but I know the one thing worse is him imagining Sadie wandering around inside by herself.

  “Okay,” he agrees slowly. “Just be careful, okay?” I smile and nod, disentangling myself from him. It’s cute how he’s acting like me walking half a block in Patience at night is dangerous. I can’t wait to find an excuse to tell him some of my stories from home. Then he’ll really freak. He’s become awfully protective of me in the weeks since we started… talking? Seeing each other? Dating? I’m still not fully sure what it is we’re doing.

  “I will be,” I reassure him, leaning in for a kiss. Damn, I never get tired of kissing him. It’s a quick peck, but enough to make me feel guilty as I walk away from him so I can make a beeline for another man.

  Brock Forrester. He’s heading towards the street like he’s leaving, and I want to catch him before he does. I have—surprise, surprise—questions. After the night we met, I realized he probably had answers to all kinds of questions I hadn’t thought to ask at first.

  I wait until I disappear behind a row of decorative bushes before I flag down Brock. He’s opening the driver’s side door of a red sports car that screams mid-life crisis. He nods at me, then gestures to the passenger side door. And despite all the stranger danger lectures I’ve gotten o
ver the years, I check to make sure no one’s coming and duck into the car with him.

  “Who’s the one chasing who, now?” Brock gives me a cheesy grin so I know he’s only joking. Or at least mostly joking. Hopefully. He doesn’t start the car or make any other move to leave, so that makes me feel a little better.

  I’m definitely not here to hit on him. Gross. I have far more important things on my mind, like, “Why don’t you think my grandfather’s hidden fortune is real?” He tips his head back, seeming surprised by the way I blurted out my question. It takes him a long moment to answer.

  “Before I worked in banking, I worked in the private financial sector. I was called a Private Wealth Manager, so I helped clients around town balance their finances and made sure they were taking the appropriate steps to maintain their net worths.” I have no idea where he’s going with this but it sounds awfully boring. “Your grandfather was one of my clients.”

  Oh, well now it’s getting good. I catch myself starting to lean closer, reminding myself I can’t cross that line with this man. The old-enough-to-be-my-dad thing just doesn’t do it for me. Not to mention I’m about to go into a party his teenage son is hosting at their house.

  Brock continues, “I reviewed Hollis’ assets regularly the whole time he was spreading rumors about his little hidden treasure. There was nothing unusual to suggest he actually had anything worth hiding.”

  “Couldn’t he have just not told you about it?” I mean, rich people sure do like their secrets.

  “Sure, but it would be pretty damn unlikely. If you don’t report an asset, you can’t insure it. If Hollis had something with real value, it would have been one hell of a risk not to make sure it was insured at the very least.”

  “Maybe he used someone different for his treasure?” Someone he trusted more, maybe. I don’t get the impression that Brock was actually close to Hollis, despite working for him.

  “That’s not how it works, sweetheart.” I nearly cringe hearing him use the same pet name Jax has used for me a few times. It sounds particularly degrading in this moment, too, with Brock looking at me so condescendingly for not understanding how the hell a Private Wealth Manger works. I’d never even heard the job title until just now. It sounds a little made up, if I’m being honest. “If Hollis had put a substantial amount of money into anything, I would have seen evidence of that. And I didn’t. If anyone knew Hollis legitimately had treasure, it would have been me.”