Wicked Reunion (Wicked White Series Book 2) (11 page)

I take a deep breath and say a little prayer as I open the door and head out to face my past.

THEN

LONDON

I
pick at the frayed string hanging off the corner of my purse as I sit in the lobby of the dean’s office. On the other side of the thick wooden door, Jared sits in a meeting with all the bigwigs of the University of Tennessee, learning the fate of his future at this school. Getting charged with possession was only the beginning of all the crap Jared has to face. Once he went to court, they assigned him three days of community service, which he did without complaint, and gave him a twenty-five-hundred-dollar fine. Julie paid the fine, so the only thing left to do is see what the school is going to do. He was already suspended for the rest of the season, ruining any chance he had to go into the draft like he wanted to this year.

Jared’s had it rough, and all of this has made grieving the loss of his father very difficult for him. He’s been different since the night he found out about Henry’s death—more anxious—which is understandable, because it was also the night his future went into limbo. He’s become angry and bitter and isn’t the same guy I’ve known most of
my life, but I’m holding out hope that he’s going to make it through all of this.

Once they tell him where he stands with his scholarship, I pray that he’ll be able to get himself back on track. From everyone we’ve talked to,
it doesn’t look like he’ll get in major trouble—maybe the suspension
for
the rest of this year will be punishment enough. It will only delay
his
plans for a little while because it will force him to stay another year in college-level ball to prove that he’s still worth picking up as a pro.

A muffled shout from behind the door draws my attention. I’m not 100 percent sure, but it sounded like Jared’s voice.

My right leg bounces of its own accord, and I chew on my thumbnail.

Shit.

Whatever is being said in there doesn’t seem to be going well.

The door flies open and Jared comes tearing out of the room and passes right by me. My head whips toward the room. I notice not one person is attempting to stop him.

My heart races as I shove myself out of the chair and tear out of the building after him. He’s nearly to the parking lot, so I run to catch up with him.

He reaches his truck and hops inside, and I panic that he’s about to leave me behind. I run around to the passenger side and jerk the door open and jump inside just as the V-8 engine roars to life.

“What happened?” I ask, completely out of breath as he throws the truck into drive without even looking at me. I grab the door handle as he rounds the corner and squeals the tires. “Whoa. Shit. Jared, slow down!”

My order doesn’t even faze him. If anything it only makes him press the gas harder and send us shrieking through the city streets well past the legal speed limit.

“Jared, please,” I beg as he passes a car on a double yellow line. “Talk to me.”

His head snaps in my direction, and there’s a crazy-wild look in his eye unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. “Why?” he asks. “Do you need me to tell you myself that they yanked my scholarship away? That they kicked me off the fucking team? You’re smarter than that, London. You already know why I’m so pissed.”

“Can’t we fix it?” There has to be a way we can make things better, or at least figure out a new route for his career path. Jared’s far too great at baseball for some minor team to not give him another chance to try out as a walk-on or something.

“No, Ms. Fix-It, we can’t!” he shouts. “Sometimes people fuck shit up so bad that there’s no undoing what’s been done, so stop trying to be like your father and fix things.”

“But—” I open my mouth to tell him that there has to be something that we can do, but I’m immediately cut off.

“Just shut up!”

I raise my eyebrows and my mouth falls open. He’s never spoken to me like that before, so it catches me off guard. It’s like the Jared I’ve known all these years is slowly disappearing, and this new, enraged version of him is taking over.

I bite my bottom lip when it begins to quiver and turn my head away. I can’t even look at him right now, because if I do, I know I’ll burst into tears, and judging from his mood, that’s the last thing he needs from me right now. Tears in this instance won’t solve anything.

We don’t say another word to one another for the rest of the ride home. I stay on the opposite side of the truck away from him and don’t dare to slide over into my normal place next to him on the bench seat. It doesn’t feel like a spot I’d be very welcomed in right now anyhow.

Jared skids to a stop in front of my house. I glance over at him, and he sits there looking straight ahead, not even so much as glancing in my direction. The anger I get. Being pissed off that his scholarship was yanked away over an irresponsible, impulsive act I completely understand too. But what I don’t get is why he’s taking his anger out on me. All I want to do is help him. I don’t know why he can’t see that.

“Jared . . .” I say, hoping that my voice, pleading his name, will help him get through whatever anger cloud surrounds his rational mind to let him know that, no matter what, I still care about him and love him.

“Get out, London. This, for once, isn’t about you, so don’t make it out to be like it is. I’m not going to talk about how I’m completely falling short on everything I planned to do—not with you—not with anyone—so just get out of the truck. I don’t need your shit right now.” His words are ice cold, and once again I feel the tears brewing, but I know this definitely isn’t the time to release any of my emotion.

Instead, I keep my mouth shut and get out like he asks. The second I slam the door, he mashes the gas and tears off down the street, bypassing his house and going God knows where.

It’s quiet inside my house, which is nothing new. Dad always seems to be at work these days. I’m always out and about, and I guess he likes to stay busy. The stillness provides absolutely no distraction, and my thoughts immediately drift to Jared. He needs help, and I’m not sure who the best person to do that is. He has friends, but he always tells me that I’m his best friend—the one person that he confides everything in. The guys on the team are his friends too, but they’re not close. There’s only one other person that I know who’s as close to Jared as I am.

I sigh as I pick up the cordless phone in my living room. Wes answers the Krafts’ phone on the third ring.

“Wes, it’s London,” I tell him. “I’m worried about Jared.”

“Join the club,” Wes says. “He barely speaks to Mom or me, and whenever we try to talk to him about Dad or what’s going on with his scholarship, it turns into a huge shouting match. Mom is worried sick. Have you tried talking to him?”

“Yeah, I tried to, and today didn’t go so well with the dean. Jared stormed out—nearly left me behind—and then all but threw me out of the truck when he dropped me off. I’m worried, Wes. It’s like he’s becoming a different person.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, but then he says, “I really don’t know what to do, London. I want to be there for him, but I’m grieving too—so is Mom, and not once has Jared showed any concern for us. It’s like he’s got it in his head that he’s the only one who lost Dad. He’s being a selfish dick. He’s making it really hard for me to care about the way he’s screwing his life up.”

He’s frustrated—it’s coming through his tone loud and clear, and that worries me. What Wes is saying is true. Jared is being unbelievably selfish right now, but we need to try and look past that to help him if we can. He needs us.

I pick at the bracelet on my wrist as I think carefully about what I need to say next. “You can’t give up on him, Wes, even if you think you want to, you just can’t. He’s your brother, and even though he’s not showing it right now, he loves you and Julie so much. I don’t know how we can help him if he won’t let us, but we have to keep trying. We’re all he’s got.”

A rush of air blows into the phone. “Did he tell you anything about how the meeting went today?”

I twist my lips, reliving earlier today in my head and how much it hurt to see Jared so torn up over the whole situation. “They’re yanking his scholarship and he’s off the team. Without baseball . . . it’s like he’s lost and yet another thing’s been taken away from him. God, Wes . . .” I take a deep breath because it’s hard to think about just how cold Jared was toward me in his truck. “Jared’s freaked out. I’ve never seen him like this before, and I’m concerned that he might try and do something stupid. I’m really worried about him.”

There’s a long pause as Wes takes in everything I’ve said. “Do you have any idea where he might’ve gone? I can go look for him.”

“With how enraged he was earlier, I have no clue. I just hope he didn’t go out looking for drugs again, even though he promised me that he will never do that again. Jared developing a drug problem is something we definitely don’t need at this point. He’s dealing with enough already, and he doesn’t need to compound things.”

“Will you be at your house?” he asks.

“Yeah, I want to stay here in case he comes back and decides he wants to talk.”

“Okay, then I’ll go out and look for him.”

I bite my bottom lip, glad to have Wes to lean on in this situation. “Thank you, Wes.”

“No problem. I’ll take Mom’s cell phone. Call me if he comes back.”

With that, he hangs up and I’m left with nothing to do but wait.

The minutes turn to hours, and the day bleeds into the evening without any sign of Jared. Finally, close to midnight, headlights shine in through the window as Wes’s car pulls into my driveway. I glance down the street and frown the minute I don’t spot any sign of Jared’s truck following behind Wes’s car.

Wes shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while his head hangs low, causing his sandy-blond hair to fall into his eyes. Judging by his stance, I don’t think he found any trace of his brother.

I pull open the door as he steps up onto my porch, before he even has a chance to knock. “No sign of him?”

He shakes his head. “No. I searched everywhere—even the side of town he got busted on—and didn’t find anything. Wherever he is, he doesn’t want to be found, that’s for sure.”

I push the door open wider and motion him inside. “Might as well keep me company as we wait. Hopefully he’ll turn up soon.”

He steps inside and turns his head to look around my house. “Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve been in here, but things are exactly how I remembered.” He points to a picture hanging up next to the door of me from junior high. “I think that’s when I first met you—all elbows and knees.”

I roll my eyes and laugh as I close the front door. “That was clearly a long time ago.”

He smiles and his eyes quickly give me the once-over. “That it was.”

Suddenly there’s this weird tension between us—something I’ve never noticed before—and for a split second I worry if having Wes alone with me in the house might give him the wrong impression.

I probably should ask him to leave but decide it’s best to blow it off, no sense in making a big deal out of something if I read that entirely wrong. After all, Wes is here to help me find Jared. I need to refocus on that.

I quickly move into being a gracious host. “Would you like something to drink while we wait?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Sure. Whatever you have is fine.”

I head into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. My eyes scan the shelves and I shake my head. I’m going to have to talk with Dad about his eating habits. There’s absolutely nothing in this fridge except beer and cheese.

I grab two beers from the carton and make my way back into the living room to hand one of the bottles to Wes. “Hope you like Bud Light. It’s all Dad seems to have in his fridge, cold.”

He chuckles and takes the beer. “Beer’s fine. If I get too hammered, I’ll just walk home.”

I laugh as I plop down on the couch beside him.

Two beers later, we’ve nearly finished the carton and I glance up at the clock. Before my eyes zero in on the time, the front door swings open, and in staggers a very drunk Jared. Instantly, I’m on my feet, both relieved and pissed to see him.

“London!” Jared doesn’t even look in the direction of the living room where I am. Instead, he shuffles over to the bottom of the stairs and calls for me. “Baby, I’m sorry.” It’s clear from the slur in his voice that he’s completely hammered, and what angers me even more is the fact that he drove home that way.

I’m going to rip him a new ass for being so stupid when he sobers up.

“Jared!” I say, and he jerks his head slowly toward me. “I’m here.”

He wobbles and squints one eye like he’s trying to focus, and then he points to the beer in my hand. “What are we celebrating? My fucked-up life?”

I set my drink down on the coffee table. “I could ask you the same question.”

He flinches and jerks his head back, causing him to wobble and fall into the door frame. “That’s exactly why I’m drunk. I’m celebrating how big of a loser I have officially become.”

“Jesus, Jared. Did you drive like this?” Wes’s agitated voice fills the room, and for the first time Jared notices his brother is even in the same room with us.