Page 65 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“I forgot.” She looks away. Tears fill her eyes, spill down her cheeks. “I don’t want to forget. I want answers.”

“I know.” I reach up with my other hand, catching tears on my thumb.

When she tries to pull away, I let her. She takes a few quick steps back. Her eyes are wide, like she can’t believe we actually had a conversation. I gave her answers. She gave them back.

Maybe not in the way either of us was expecting, but…

The bell rings, shattering my thoughts.

Poor Margo flinches again, then reaches for my hand. “We’re going to be late.”

She tows me down the hall to Robert’s class. We slip inside, and Robert stops talking mid-sentence.

“Margo. Caleb,” he says in a low voice. “You’re late.”

“Sorry,” she says, releasing me. “Won’t happen again.”

He shakes his head but motions for us to take our seats. There are only two spots left, and they’re not close to each other. If we’d gotten here on time, I might’ve been able to switch. As it is, her foster dad is glaring at me like I just ate his pet.

We make it through class unscathed, and I catch Margo in the hallway.

“Don’t go to tryouts,” I tell her.

“Didn’t you invite me?” she asks. “Or do you not…”

“He told me not to go. So.”

She sighs. “Good, because the thought of sitting outside in the cold sounded miserable.”

I laugh. Yeah, it is miserable if you’re not moving around. The students who go to watch will probably notice my absence—another win for Coach and Margo—and interrogate me about it on Monday.

As it is, we’re catching questions on why Eli hasn’t been in school. Add me to the mix, and everyone’s curiosity is going to double.

“I’ll tell Riley,” she murmurs. She hurries away from me without looking back.

I head to my car, pulling out my phone. May as well give my friends the heads-up that I won’t be at practice.

Me: Coach banned me from tryouts. Got fucked over.

Theo: Bummer.

Liam: What’d you do?

Me: Just some bullshit. I’ll be back to practice on Monday.

Eli: Me, too. Flying home tomorrow.

I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s been a little weird having Eli’s entire house to myself. I contemplated throwing a party just to cure my nightly boredom, but I didn’t want to deal with the clean-up and aftermath.

Once back home, I kick off my shoes and head to the basement.

I make it halfway across the room when something hits me from behind.

My legs buckle, and I go down, barely avoiding slamming my head into the floor. A heavy weight presses on my spine, and a hand grips the back of my head.

“You little shit,” my uncle breathes. “Can you do anything right lately?”

I exhale. “Uncle—”

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