Page 33 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

“Come with me,” he says. “I just have to meet with a student and then I can take you home. Okay? This weekend was a lot.”

Even with my eyes closed, tears escape.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He rubs my back in circles.

“I shouldn’t have run away.” It made everything worse.

Ian is being confusing, and Caleb is letting me push him away. Riley and Eli’s relationship is progressing almost too fast for me to track. Sooner or later, everyone else will leave me in the dust.

Maybe I’m better off there.

All of my fight is gone. I used it on Caleb and Amelie, and I don’t want to take it out on Robert. So I follow a half step behind him all the way to his classroom and sit at a desk in the back while he chats with another student. A sophomore, I think. She throws nervous glances in my direction.

I doodle profiles of boys with black holes for eyes.

“Ready?” Robert asks.

I jerk, crumpling the page. I’m not a fool—I realize I couldn’t stop drawing Caleb. And if Robert sees, he’d know, too.

“Thank you,” I say in the car. “For taking me to my old home the other day, and for bringing me home today…”

He smiles at me. “You seem lost. Don’t get me wrong—it’s perfectly okay to feel lost at seventeen. It’s Len’s job, and my job, to help you navigate to where you want to go.”

I bite my lip.

Am I lost?

“It can take time and soul searching,” he adds. “And reconnecting with your past. If you want to talk to anyone—”

“A therapist?” I shudder. I’ve talked to too many state-mandated psychologists for my liking. There was nothing wrong with them, except their soul-sucking nature and endless questions.

“Or your dad,” he says quietly.

I freeze.

“He’s only twenty-five minutes away,” he continues. “And we’d be happy to take you if you—”

“I’m not ready for that.” I look out the window and decide to admit one thing. One ugly feeling. “I tried to visit him when I was twelve. Angela said I was on the approved list. But we got there, and he had revoked it because it was no place for…”

Robert is silent.

I lamely finish, “A child. And technically, I’m still one.”

“You’ve grown up a lot since you last tried,” he says. “I can reach out to Angela, see if we can arrange something—”

“Please,” I whisper. “Not today.”

He pulls up to the curb. “Len will be home early today, okay?”

“I think I’m just going to catch up on homework and be antisocial for a while.”

“Perfectly acceptable.” He winks. “Go on, now.”

I climb out of the car, glancing back once. I push the door open, and then he leaves. And I’m alone.

Finally.

9

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