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

  “You kissed him?” he asks, pointing at Patrick as if he needs to clarify who he’s talking about. “And you didn’t think maybe you should say something about that?”

  I can feel the corners of my eyes going warm with tears threatening to spill over and I miss the days when I never cried in front of anyone. Salma clears her throat and reaches out to touch Smith’s arm, pulling his attention off of me for one relieving moment. “Maybe the two of you should talk about this somewhere else? Alone,” she says pointedly, gesturing to our growing audience.

  He scoffs, but grabs my arm and pulls me up out of my chair, forcing me to follow him as he storms out of the cafeteria and into the empty hallway. He leads me around the corner and pulls me into the dark doorway of a locked office so that we’re hidden away from view. I think it’s where they keep the gym equipment.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits out, my head turning as if I’ve been slapped. I might as well have been, the way his words sting. I’ve gotten used to Smith being nice, so much so that I almost forgot he was an asshole when I first met him just like all the other guys.

  I blink back the tears still threatening to make their debut. “It was a mistake. I should never have kissed him, I know that.” I wish I could take it back now. As good as it was, it wasn’t worth this. I can’t afford to fuck around with the few solid relationships I have here. Especially not with Sadie still avoiding me in favor of Cece and Cece’s new minions.

  “You think it’s the kiss that bothers me?” He makes a sound of disgust that truly confuses me. “No, the thing that bothers me is that you didn’t mention it at all. And based on how horrified you looked in there when Patrick said it, you never planned to.”

  “I’m… sorry?” I’m not stupid, I get that I should have just told Smith it happened in the first place and we could have avoided this. But I’m more than a little confused about his lack of reaction to the actual kiss itself.

  Smith turns away, facing the hallway instead of me. He shakes his head like he’s seriously exasperated. “I don’t need to own you, Juliet, but I won’t be played for a fool, either. At least when I shared girls with Jax, everyone was honest about it.”

  I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating for a minute as I digest his words. “Is that what you want? To share?” Because he sure is making it sound like sharing was no big deal.

  “What I want is for you to be honest about what you’re doing. Or who you’re doing.” I wince, fully uncomfortable with the way that sounds. And okay, I’m also maybe overreacting a little bit because even though my head thinks this is weird, I can’t deny the idea of it gives me weird flippy feelings deep in my belly. And not necessarily in a bad way, which only makes me feel all the more guilty.

  Part of the problem is that I can’t imagine what he’s talking about. So, what? I would kiss other people and then we’d have a nice chat about it later? And what about him? Does he want to be messing around with other people, too? Because I’m not sure I have it in me to not be jealous. I struggle seeing girls flirting with Jax, and the only thing I feel towards him is an unexplainable physical attraction. I’m not sure I could handle Smith seeing other girls besides me. Gah. This is all so much more complicated than dating in Nikon Park ever was—even when I was pining after my semi-platonic best friend.

  The bell chimes letting us know lunch is ending. I bite my lip and glance out of our hidden little cove. I don’t want to be late to class. I’ve gotten used to doing things the right way here, going to classes instead of skipping them the way I used to.

  “Just go.” He nods slightly, his eyes focused down as he scuffs his foot against the ground. I hesitate, worried that if we don’t figure this out now, that this whole thing between us will just implode until there’s nothing left. “We shouldn’t be talking about this here, anyway,” he adds, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  He looks so boyish right now, his hair falling in front of his eyes and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, worried that things are irreparably damaged now. But just as I’m about to turn to go, Smith leans forward and stops me, kissing me gently. And that feels like exactly the kind of reassurance I needed to know that there’s still hope of us figuring things out. I might not understand everything about him, but I like him. Genuinely.

  When I step out into the hallway—alone, as Smith stays behind for a minute—I look up to see Patrick waiting in the middle of the hall. He watches me walk his direction, his face surprisingly remorseful for someone who seemed to get so much joy out of making a fool of me. As I get close, I can feel anger building inside of me. I actually felt something when we kissed, and now I feel like an idiot. I just gave Patrick more ammo against me, and I was stupid enough to think there actually might be more to it than that. That him confiding his theories about Kathryn might actually mean something.

  I’m such a fucking idiot. And I’m so tired of catching myself expecting more from the boys here than any of them seem willing to give. I feel like I’m just in this constant state of confusion, torn between my attraction to them and my disdain for how they treat me.

  “Juliet—” Patrick looks at me like he’s about to apologize, but I’m not ready to fucking hear it. Taking one out of his playbook, I bump him hard with my shoulder as I shove past him. It’s probably not actually hard enough to hurt, and it doesn’t really make me feel any better.

  When I see Smith again later, we don’t really talk anymore about that whole sharing thing. I do apologize for hiding what happened between Patrick and me. And then, because I don’t want Jax to be able to hold it against me later, I tell him what happened with Jax, too. For now, it seems like enough to just know there are no more secrets about any of it.

  I can only focus on one thing at a time. Smith was the first person here I had a real connection with, and as far as I’m concerned that gives him priority. Regardless of what else I’m feeling or what I choose to do about it.

  And aside from his anger about Jax getting rough with me, Smith takes everything well. Too well. He wasn’t kidding about being fine with things if I just showed him honesty. As for me? I spend a long time trying to stop myself from thinking about what it would feel like to be a girl that gets shared.

  Chapter Ten

  After the conversation about it went so far south, I wasn’t sure if Smith and I would actually do anything for Valentine’s Day or not. But he ends up taking me to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant where I can barely figure out what to use my utensils for. Who needs like ten different freaking utensils?

  The whole thing is nice, but it’s over too soon. Smith gets a frantic call from Sadie in the middle of us sharing dessert. Something about his mom. He’s vague about what’s going on, so I don’t pry. I get it—considering how many times I’ve gotten similar panicked phone calls from one of my not-parents about the other.

  Even though I tell Smith he really doesn’t need to, he drops me off at the front door before speeding over to his own house. I watch him as he becomes a figure in the distance going from his car to his house and I feel a little melancholy despite what a nice evening it was. It just feels like something was missing, but I feel terrible for feeling that way considering how thoughtful Smith was to even make plans for us in the first place.

  I’ve barely started to settle in at home when Pearl calls me back to the front door. She looks so pleased as she waits for me at the bottom of the stairs that I know for a fact Smith hasn’t come back.

  “What?” I ask suspiciously from midway down the stairs.

  Pearl purses her lips at me. “Manners, Juliet. You have a guest.” She waves her hand like Vanna White as the devil himself steps forward. Okay, not the devil. It’s Patrick, who I can’t even accuse of being close to being the devil when I know Jax Woods is still running around out there somewhere with his horns hidden under that thick, dark hair of his.

  “Welcome, sir, to our home,” I bellow with an over-exaggerated curtsy. I’m so used to P
earl being hands off and mostly absent that when she does do things like trying to correct my manners, the Jessica Brown in me rebels.

  Patrick claps a hand over his mouth casually, trying poorly to cover a laugh as Pearl shoots me a disapproving look and clicks her tongue. She doesn’t chastise me about being a smart-ass, though, which is typical. She’s not a parental figure or a fun aunt type—I kind of feel like I got jipped in the family department. All things considered.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask in my normal voice, descending the last of the stairs as Pearl disappears back into the house to do… whatever it is she spends all her time doing.

  He holds up his keys and dangles them. “Go for a ride with me?”

  I snort at him with derision. “What makes you think I would ever agree to go anywhere with you after that shit you pulled with Smith. You made things uncomfortable. For all of us.” He glances away for a second, and I like to think it’s because he regrets it at least a little bit. “Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m sure you’ve got your share of admirers waiting for your attention. Go bother one of them.”

  “I don’t want to bother them. I want to bother you.” He grins like he’s not being a pain in my ass—and like he already knows I’m dangerously close to caving. My desperate need to satisfy my curiosity rears its ugly head once again.

  “Where are we going?” I ask suspiciously, still not fully sold, even though I can feel my feet itching to cross the last of the distance. I’m a sucker for a bit of an unexpected adventure. And for trouble. I’m definitely a sucker for trouble.

  Patrick takes a few steps closer to the door. “Come along and find out,” he taunts me, slowly trailing closer to the exit as I hover between uncertainty and the knowledge that I do so badly want to find out what he has planned. Especially since showing up here unannounced like this makes me assume he thinks whatever it is will make up for how he threw me under the bus to our friends.

  “It’s not a trick?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. It doesn’t seem to me like he’d go through this much effort to walk me into a trap, but a girl can never be too sure.

  He rolls his eyes as if it’s really so far-fetched. He clearly underestimates what kind of shit people have pulled since I got here. Jax, mostly. But Ace wasn’t so innocent either, taking pictures of me when I wasn’t even conscious enough to know about it.

  After a second, he says, “No, it’s not a trick,” and looks so deep into my eyes I think he might be trying to see right through me. “I promise.”

  “Okay. Let me go tell Pearl I’m leaving.” I start to turn to go look for her, but the sound of a door opening stops me. Patrick is standing with the hall closet door open. He reaches in and pulls out a fluffy black coat that isn’t actually warm enough for the cold outside, but it is one of my favorites.

  “No need, I already okayed the plan with Miss Pearl.” He holds the coat out for me, holding tight to it when I try to take it from him myself. He gestures for me to turn. I turn slowly on my heel, putting my back to him and maneuvering my arms through the sleeves as his hands skate over me, helping me put the coat on even though I was fully capable of doing it myself.

  As he drags the coat up over my shoulders, I get a whiff of the cologne he’s wearing. Just a light spray, not that drowned in daddy’s cologne smell that boys back home used to have when they over-sprayed. No, his cologne is just light and woodsy, a hyper masculine smell that makes me close my eyes just so I can focus on breathing it in.

  He gently nudges me to turn, facing him. As I stand there, eyes still closed I feel him grab the ends of my coat and carefully start buttoning it up for me. Now I feel bad for putting him in the same category as Jax, who’s only ever unbuttoned my clothes.

  Patrick clears her throat, suddenly seeming to remember where we are. “Ready?” He holds his hand out for me to go ahead of him, so I do, mostly because I want to hide the flush I feel spreading up my neck to my cheeks. Outside, he opens the car door for me, and I slip into the seat with a mumbled thank you.

  I can feel a nervous, buzzing feeling building in me as I realize how much this seems like a date. With Patrick. On Valentine’s Day. But it’s not, I rationalize. Patrick knows I spent my actual Valentine’s Day with Smith. This is just post-Valentine’s Day, and it’s totally not a big deal. At all. Yep, I definitely believe that. I mean, so what if I sniff the air a little when he climbs into the driver’s seat? Or if my heart rate picks up remembering what happened the last time I was in this car? That totally doesn’t mean anything.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I try again as Patrick pulls around the curve of the driveway and out onto the street.

  “Nope,” he answers, popping the “p” with a lightness that makes the corner of my lips turn up. The universe really messed up when it made Patience boys. They’re infuriating, mean, and selfish—but they’re also heart-stoppingly handsome and often irresistible. It’s really unfair. I was really hoping to stay mad for a lot longer than this, but I can’t find it in me to feel anything negative as I listen to Patrick quietly sing along to the radio as he drives us towards the edge of town.

  It’s late, and dark enough that I almost miss the green sign we pass as Patrick slows to take a turn off the main road. I whip my head towards him, a questioning look in my eyes even though he keeps his own eyes on the road. He licks his lips like he’s nervous, and I have to work hard not to get distracted by the sight.

  “Churchill Point?” I don’t want to read too much into it, but I can’t help but to nervously crack a joke. “If you tell me you brought your mother’s engagement ring for me to try on I’m going to jump out of the car right here,” I warn him in a teasing voice, trying to keep things light.

  He groans. “I was really hoping you’d have forgotten about that part. My mom has a tendency to get really out of hand.” He grimaces for a long moment. “And she’s always pleading with me to bring a girl home, so I probably should have warned you that she was gonna break out her special brand of crazy.”

  “You don’t bring girls home?” I study the side of his face, as interested in studying the curves of his face as I am in hearing his answer. He flirts a lot, so it’s easy to assume he dates a lot. Even that night at the mall when he rescued me from that phone call from—ugh—he was with a girl. It’s strange to think of him not bringing girls around, especially after seeing how excited it made his mom. Patrick might be embarrassed of how she acted at that dinner, but it was clear in the way he treated her with respect otherwise that he’s a mama’s boy.

  He smirks, and it makes me wrinkle my nose at him for how suggestive it looks. “Not to meet my parents I don’t.” I turn back towards the window so I can make a face without worrying that he’ll see. In fact, I don’t just make one face, I make several.

  “Hey, Juliet?” He reaches his arm in front of me “Reflection.”

  My eyes widen as I realize there’s just enough reflection in the car’s window that Patrick can see me making faces at his words. Dammit. “Sorry,” I say sheepishly.

  “Don’t be.” He brushes me with his elbow from across the console, nudging me in a way that makes it feel like we’re really friends, even though I wouldn’t exactly call that the case. “Nice to know I’m not the only one that’s jealous.” He says it quietly, like he’s second-guessing whether he actually wants me to hear it.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I look at him, waiting for an answer.

  He turns the steering wheel to maneuver us around one last turn before he hits the brakes. I’m still waiting for a response as he turns the ignition off, but it looks to me like he doesn’t plan on giving me one at the moment.

  Which is confirmed when he jumps out of the car with still no answer, jogging around the front to my side so he can open the car door for me. “Thanks,” I tell him, taking the hand he offers to help me out of the car. I look around us, confused by the fact that there’s nothing here. Neema mentioned the view, but I only see trees. Lots
and lots of trees.

  I turn back to ask Patrick what exactly we’re doing here, but I when I get a good look at him, I don’t have to ask. He’s got a blanket thrown over one arm and a small speaker in his other hand. He looks at me with a vulnerability I wasn’t expecting, as if he’s waiting for me to react. I have to swallow hard to clear the emotion welling up in my throat. I’m equal parts flattered and uncomfortable. I just spent Valentine’s Day dinner with Smith, and now it certainly feels like Patrick’s trying to give me a second Valentine’s Day date.

  “I know you think you’ve already made up your mind.” He takes a few steps closer. “And I’m sure I haven’t helped by telling Smith about our kiss or telling you that night after dinner that I was basically ready to run you off to save my class rank.” He takes another few steps towards me. “But if you’d give me a chance, there’s just something about you that makes me think you shouldn’t be with Smith.” He comes to a spot directly in front of me, so close that the toes of our shoes touch. “You should be with me.”

  I speak with a Sahara-Desert-level dry throat. “That’s a bold statement.”

  “You don’t have to do anything but try,” he presses, tilting his head slightly as he waits for some sign of confirmation from me. He’s not being overly pushy, which is a relief, but my brain still short circuits a little. The memory of Jake’s reaction after seeing me with Smith still plays on repeat in the back of my mind. What if this is me taking the same risk all over again, only with Patrick and Smith instead of Smith and Jake? How many times can I really risk hurting other people over my own indecisiveness?

  It would be so much easier to just say no and ask him to take me home. But I can’t.

  It’s like a power bigger than myself takes over my body as I reach out to take the blanket from him. He raises his eyebrows, and I nod. In spite of myself, in spite of how big of a mistake this might be, I already know I’m going to stay. It was destined from the moment I slid into his car—the first time, if I’m being honest with myself.