Page 141 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

Caleb shakes his head without taking his eyes from the window. “He’s had a hard-on for that girl since sophomore year, but he hates to admit it.”

Theo slams on the brakes. “You’re damn lucky we’re here, asshole,” he says. “Get out of my car.”

“Testy,” Caleb mutters. He grins, flinging open the door and helping me out.

As soon as the door is closed, Theo’s tires burn rubber. We’re left standing in the road, watching him go.

“Are the Blacks going to question why I’m here?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. The jacket and hat aren’t helping against the chill anymore. It smells like snow.

“They’re out of town this weekend.”

I bite my lip and follow him inside. “I’m going to see my dad tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Well, I felt the need to remind you.”

He flicks on lights in the living room, the hallway, the kitchen. Soon the whole downstairs is lit up. “You did, huh?”

I nod. “Just in case you were going to be upset about it.”

He strides toward me. Around me.

“Me? Upset?” He’s behind me, lingering. His fingers sift through my hair, lifting the hat off my head.

I huff. “You hate when I mention him.”

“That’s because I hate him,” he whispers. “And I just… if you knew, you’d hate him, too.”

I spin around. I have to crane my neck back to meet his gaze. “That’s just it—if I knew. I want a chance to know. And I need to talk to him about the Jenkinses.”

“About them adopting you.”

“Well, it’s a nice thought, isn’t it?” I run my hands up and down my arms, suddenly cold. “The idea of a happily ever after.”

He pauses. “Do you think you’re not going to get one?”

Do I? No, I never thought that far ahead. It was just one foot in front of the other. One day in front of the other. That’s how we survived in the homes that sucked, in the homes that were great with an expiration date, in the group homes cramped with too many kids.

Problem kids.

I never got that official label, but I almost did. And then there really would be no future for me to hunt down.

“I can’t apply to NYU,” I say. “It’s outside my budget. Maybe a nice local community college—”

“Bullshit,” he says.

“What?”

He motions for me to go into the kitchen. I don’t budge.

“Caleb, you can’t just dismiss the fact that I literally have no money—”

“I think I can,” he says.

He bends down and scoops me up, an arm under my knees and the other at my back. I let out a little yip, throwing my arms around his shoulders.

“What—”

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