Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

“Oh really?” I had no idea he noticed. “I’ve enjoyed hanging out with Ezra again. He’s a good guy.”

He chuckles. “Good may be an overstatement, but you’ve always seen the best in people.”

“Not always,” I admit. “I was worried about Ezra for a while. He really seemed like he was struggling.”

“Selling weed to high schoolers isn’t really struggling. It’s called poor life choices.” He takes a sip of wine. “He was acting out in reaction to the divorce and the fact he had to man-up for the first time in his life. He’s a talented athlete. I just hope he didn’t waste too much time fucking around.”

His eyes dart to mine, like he’s waiting to see how I react to his language. I don’t.

“That’s in the past—or so I hope,” he continues. “You should come out on the boat some time, get some sun.”

“That sounds nice. I’ve seen pictures of you guys—with the Wallers and Chandlers. It looks like a really good time.”

He takes a step closer. “Make no mistake, Kenley, my son’s success is important to me. The next two games are the most important in his life—after that, it’s just icing.”

“Okay,” I say, trying to hide the nervous tremble in my voice.

“All high caliber athletes need a…release…before or after a big game. Helps steady the nerves and channel extra energy.” His eyebrow raises. “And if that’s why you’re hanging around, I’ve got no problem. But if you’re looking for something more serious? Long-term? You need to go elsewhere. Ezra needs to be one hundred percent in the game, do you understand?”

“Uh,” I swallow, speechless.

He tilts his head, making the sharp lines of his face even more distinct. “Or are you here for a hook up? Adderall to keep those straight A’s? Weed to soothe the anxiety, like your friend Rose?”

Heat burns at the tip of my ears, and I open my mouth to respond. He cuts me off.

“Either way, dating my son is off-limits.” He raises his cup. “But, I hear Finn Holloway is single, maybe give him a shot.”

Ezra’s footsteps pound down the stairs and he strides into the kitchen, the silver roll of duct tape in his hands. “Found it.”

His dark eyes flick between the two of us. “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” Mr. Baxter says, easy grin appearing. “Just telling Kenley she should come out on the boat with us some time.”

He holds my eye, like a dare, almost begging me to say something. He’s probably drunk and spoiling for another fight with Ezra—something I won’t let happen.

“Come on,” I say, turning toward the door, trying to hide my shaking hands. “Finn’s waiting on that tape.”

I step outside, feeling the cool air slap my heated face. Ezra’s hand fists in my shirt.

“Did he say something to you?”

I look into his dark eyes—worried and strained. I never knew until right now exactly how much of an asshole his father really is. I reach up and touch his cheek, understanding the lost boy standing in front of me a little bit more. “Nope. Let’s get this float finished so you and I can go take a drive.”

He nods, unconvinced, but I lead him back out in the driveway, focusing my energy on completing the float and not the sensation of Mr. Baxter watching me. It’s hard not to look down by the firepit, and not be a little afraid of the smiling, confident faces of the men and women that carry the secrets of Thistle Cove’s past as well as hold the power over our futu

res.

22

Kenley

Friday finally rolls around and the school is at the peak of spirit week. Freshman are the most excited—it’s new and different—their first “real” dance a day away. Seniors are caught in a mix of senioritis and nostalgia. Regardless, it’s hard to not feel the energy with the cheerleaders, dance team, and marching band walking around in either their uniforms or matching T-shirts. The football players are dressed in white button-downs and have matching purple and gold striped ties. Even I made my staff wear their Valhalla shirts today.

I will say, Ezra and Finn look very handsome in their ties.

The class schedule is shortened because of all the activities at the end of the day, and right after lunch I’m in the yearbook office organizing some papers. Alice walks in with a form in her hand. “A check from my dad for his ad.”

“Thanks.” I take it and add it to the file to submit to the bookkeeper. “And tell him we appreciate it. I’ll make sure he gets a prime spot.”