Forever Golden: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 3)

BLUE

Home sweet home.

Or… something like that, I guess.

I stare at the rickety security door at the front of our small place and beat back the heaviness that tries creeping in. It’s stifling and palpable.

It’s possible that things could turn out just fine. Don’t think the worst.

Scar says her goodbyes to the boys and Joss, then slides out of the backseat. I, on the other hand, am a bit more reluctant to head inside. Getting to spend nearly a week with West felt more like an eternity. In all the best ways, of course. If it never ended, that still would’ve been too soon.

“Already turned off the alarm,” West says, flashing his phone screen toward me. His tone is solemn, much like his expression.

“What if I don’t want to go back—to real life, to being worried all the time? What if I don’t want to go back in there?” I ask.

My hand warms in West’s when he takes it and holds me captive in his stare.

“I didn’t let my grandfather’s offer go in one ear and out the other,” he says. “If it gets to be too much here, we’ve got options.”

I imagine it—life in Dupont Bayou, the clean air and serenity.

But then, I think about our college plans—how hard West worked to earn his spot at NCU, the hell I went through to get accepted at Cypress Valley. If it were a short-term fix that would keep Scar safe, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but our problems won’t simply go away because we’re not here to face them. Eventually, we’d return and Vin would still be here, more powerful than ever.

“It’s a nice idea, but… we have to find another way,” I say quietly.

Lucky for us, Dane and Sterling are keeping up so much noise in the back, West and I are allowed to speak candidly without being heard.

He nods, seeming to understand my reasoning, but doesn’t say a word. Instead, he climbs out to meet Scar at the trunk to unload our things. As expected, he carries it all himself, making it look easy when he walks beside me, headed toward the back door. It’s closest to the laundry room where we need to dump our things and get them clean. Somehow, washing clothes just ranked very low on our list of things to do while we were away.

We round the corner, thinking we’ll head right in after I unlock the door, but the three of us stop dead in our tracks. Never in a million years did I expect this when coming home.

It’s like seeing a ghost as I stare at Mike, clean and sober for the first time since… well, shit. I can’t even remember when I’ve last seen him sober. He’s wearing sweats, a long-sleeve thermal, and a dark beanie he didn’t leave here in, but not much else.

He seems startled when he lays eyes on us, rushing to stand from where he’s been waiting on the steps. His eyes dart back and forth between me and Scar several times, and then to West for a moment. He seems to be at a loss for words, finding it difficult to hold anyone’s gaze.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He peers up when I ask, swallowing hard before answering. “I was released today. A few hours ago,” he explains. “I don’t have my keys or anything to let myself in. You know, since I wasn’t exactly in my right mind when I left.”

I fold both arms over my chest, glaring at him. “No, you were drunk off your ass,” I hiss. “Just say what it is, Mike.”

My words seem to cut like a knife, and I don’t even care. His words have been slicing into my flesh, my soul, my entire life.

“I—you’re right,” he concedes, lowering his gaze to the pavement. “I was just hoping you’d let me in so we could talk and—”

“Find someplace else to stay. We don’t need you.”

Again, he stares, but doesn’t seem surprised by my reaction to him showing up here like he hasn’t been raising hell in our home for years. Breathing heavily because I’m in shock and trying not to lose my shit, I start snatching me and Scar’s bags from West’s hands. All I want is to get inside and close Mike out.

My gaze flashes up toward West, only to find he’s already staring at me, already sympathizing with me.

“Please, Blue, if we can just talk, we—”

“What the fuck don’t you understand?” I snap, yelling at Mike before he even finishes his statement. “I don’t want you here. Neither of us do. So, why don’t you get a head start on falling off the wagon and pull up a stool at the nearest bar. That’s always been more your home than this shithole anyway.”

I start toward the door and West speaks up.

“Need me to stick around for a bit?” He’s talking to me, but glaring at Mike.

Shaking my head, I fumble with the keys in the lock. “No, we’re fine. I’ll call you later.”

He doesn’t move, of course. But what does surprise me is that Mike doesn’t bombard his way through the door right behind me and Scar. He’s just standing out there a few yards from West, trying to look like a lost dog. I’m too indifferent to his ass to fall for it, but my sister on the other hand, is not.

She pinches the sleeve of my hoodie when I grip the door to close it. I glance back, meeting her gaze, and I see that same look Mom used to get when she should’ve left Mike outside in the cold.

“But Blue, he looks better. And sad,” she adds. “What if that place fixed him?”

It breaks my heart to hear the hope in her voice, because if there’s one thing I know about Mike, it’s that he will always, always disappoint you.

“Scar, he’s sober right now, but the moment he gets a few drinks in him, it’ll be the same.”

“But it won’t,” Mike speaks up.

My eyes cut to him. “I was talking to my sister. Not you.”

He draws in a deep breath and I see I’ve wounded him again. That shouldn’t feel so good, but it does. Maybe because I’m bitter knowing that, if ever there was a time I could’ve used the comfort of having a real father in our home, it’s now. Instead, I get stuck with this piece of shit.

“Please,” he begs, sounding so broken and pathetic it makes me want to leap down these steps and tackle him on the cement. He doesn’t get to slip in and play this role, doesn’t get to confuse Scar into thinking he’s changed.

“I tried calling,” he rushes to say. “A few times you answered, but I didn’t know what to say so I just said… nothing. I tried again on Scar’s birthday, thinking I finally found the nerve to actually talk to you girls, but you didn’t pick up that time. I figured it was probably because you didn’t recognize the number.”

It’s in this moment that all the mysterious ‘unavailable’ calls finally make sense. Still, a few phone calls don’t make up for having to put up with his B.S.

“We’ve got enough to deal with without having to look after you,” I snap, feeling the sting of angry tears pooling in my eyes.

Mike’s shoulders rise and fall when he breathes deep and I swear it looks like he’s in pain seeing me like this, but that’s not possible. He’s never felt anything for me but resentment.

“I promise I won’t be in the way,” he says sheepishly. “And I’ll—I’ll clean up after myself, help with Scar if you let me, and I’m working on getting a job.”

I scoff when he lays that one on me. How many times have I heard that one before?

“I’m serious, Blue Jay.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap.

He throws his hands up with hope of calming me, and then changes his tune.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. We’ve got a long road to being okay, but I am serious this time,” he insists. “One of the counselors got me leads on a couple jobs and I’m gonna call and follow up tomorrow.”

I’m not moved in the least, but the feel of Scar discreetly tapping my back means I’m alone in taking this firm stand.

“Please, Blue,” she whispers. “I’m scared what’ll happen if he has to go someplace else.”

I’m mad enough to spit lava right now, but unfortunately, Scar doesn’t understand. She sees the world through a different set of lenses than I do. If I turn him away and he does what I know he’s gonna do—get messed up and prove he’s still the old Mike—she’ll think it’s my fault, think that if I hadn’t been so stubborn it wouldn’t have happened. So, I’m torn.

My gaze flits toward West and I swear he feels me in this moment, feels that I really don’t want to do this, but—

Shit.

“You have one chance not to fuck this up,” I warn. “First sign of your same old bullshit and I’ll have Dusty haul your ass out of here faster than you can give another empty apology. Do you understand me?”

Grateful, he nods.

“I understand, but there won’t be any need for that. I mean it. I’m gonna do right by you girls this time,” he promises, easing past me to step inside.

When I meet West’s wary gaze, I’m full of dread, knowing I’ll regret this later. I shouldn’t be surprised, though. After all, today represents the story of my life—always stuck between a rock and a hard place. So much for easing back into business as usual.

In true Blue Riley form, there was literal shit waiting on the back porch to welcome me home.

Fuck you too, Cypress Pointe.

Seems you’re still the bitch I know and hate.