Fool Me Once (New England Bay Sharks #2)

Prologue

Eighteen Years Old

“W here are you headed, smiling like a fool?” my sister, Saylor, calls from the couch, never looking up from her cell phone that’s shoved in her face. “Wait, let me guess … you’re going to hang out with my best friend.”

I take a sip from my water and lean against the archway in our living room before shrugging my shoulders. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Try I really want to go to the beach with her, and I don’t want you following us around like a lost puppy dog . She can go sea-glass hunting, and I’ll tan.” She drops her phone into her lap and rolls her eyes. “Seriously, can’t you get your own friends? You claim you’re cool, but surely, if that were the case, you wouldn’t have to steal your little sister’s friends.”

I tilt my head forward and give her an amused smirk. “This is coming from the girl who has literally dated half of my teammates and damn near all my friends.”

“I wouldn’t say dated. I’d say we had ourselves a good—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” I grimace. “Trust me, I hear enough shit about my baby sister. I don’t need to hear it directly from the horse’s mouth. Better to just tell myself the shit I hear are rumors.”

Saylor—God love her—is the most boy-crazy human I know. That’s fine and all, but I sure as fuck don’t need to hear about it. Especially not when it involves my teammates and friends.

“For stealing my soulmate, you deserve it.” She shrugs, and even though I know she’s half kidding, there’s a hint of annoyance in her tone.

My sister and Gemma Jones have been best friends since they first met in second grade after Gemma moved to our hometown. Later that afternoon, we learned that we were neighbors in our small subdivision. Since that day, not only have those two been joined at the hip, but I’ve also been in love with Gemma. But I didn’t make my move on her until recently, and since then, we’ve been pretty inseparable.

Tossing my bottle into the recycling bin, I head toward the door. “Don’t worry; I won’t keep her too long today.”

Before she can respond or jump up and demand to tag along, I walk out the door and swing it shut behind me.

I should feel bad for taking up so much of Gemma’s time, but the thing is, I’m leaving for college in Connecticut in a few weeks, and since my sister and Gemma still have their senior year of high school to spend together, they’ll have plenty of time together once I’m gone.

I have no idea how Gemma and I are going to do this long-distance thing, but since Connecticut is only six hours from our home in Maine, I’m confident we can make it work.

For nine years, I treated Gemma like a second sister. She’d go on trips with our family and come to dinners, holidays, and birthdays. Nine whole years of wanting her, but never acting on it. But everything changed a month ago when we both got too drunk at a party and ended up hooking up. My sister tried to act mad, but even she admitted she’d known for years that I was in love with her best friend and that Gemma was in love with me too.

Some of my favorite memories are from when she’d join us on family trips and we were anywhere with a beach. It didn’t matter that our houses were a ten-minute walk to a sandy beach. She still wanted to look for sea glass wherever in the world we were. She was fascinated by sea glass, and watching her hunt for it was fascinating to me, even though I didn’t get the obsession.

It’s a hot, sunny day, and my sister is right that it’s a good beach day. Hell, we should all enjoy it because New England summers last about ten minutes, and then there are seven months of cold weather that seem like an eternity.

Crossing the road, I head toward Gemma’s front door, but just as I take the four steps that lead to the porch, her father swings the door open. And to be honest, he doesn’t look all that thrilled to see me. Then again, I’m pretty sure that’s Will Jones’s face one hundred percent of the time .

“Smith,” he says, giving me a curt nod.

Mr. Jones is a state trooper. He’s intimidating as fuck, and he also has a stick up his ass most of the time.

“Hey, Mr. Jones,” I say, holding my hand up. “Lovely day out.”

I smirk, knowing I sound corny. It earns me a harsher glare, too, which only amuses me more.

Anyone who knows me knows I live to get under people’s skin. There’s a reason I was voted Class Clown, and I wear that title proudly.

Will and his wife, Lori, are good people, but they have high expectations for Gemma and her older brother, William, which puts a lot of pressure on their lives.

“Looking for Gem, I assume,” he says, stepping onto the porch and walking toward the barrier. Putting his hands on it, he leans forward slightly, looking out onto the street.

His tone and body language throw me off because it’s pretty obvious that something is bothering him. Gemma has spent more time at my parents’ house with Saylor than the two of them have at Gemma’s, but her parents have still watched us grow up and have always been nice to us.

Walking to the other side of the porch, I lean my back against the railing and nod. “Uh, yeah,” I say, nodding slowly. “Is she home?”

“She and Lori ran into town,” he utters, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “I don’t think they’ll be back for a while.”

The more he speaks, the more uncomfortable I feel. Sure, he’s got a way of making me nervous, but never like this.

Shrugging my shoulders, I pretend to brush it off. “No big deal. I can check in with her later.”

As I push myself from the rail, he flicks his hard stare toward me.

“She told us last night that she was going to apply to some colleges in New England.” He pauses. “The top of her list was Luxton.”

At the mention of the college I’m headed to in a few weeks, I frown.

“She didn’t tell me that,” I say honestly. “I know Stanford is her dream.”

“ Was her dream,” he says coolly, his eyes narrowing like I’m a suspect he has to question. “Apparently, now, she has a new dream. A dream that involves chasing you to Connecticut.” He jerks his chin up. “You sure you don’t know anything about that?”

I stand here, puzzled. I mean, fuck, what am I even supposed to say to that?

Gemma and I have shared some pretty great times together the past month, and a few days ago, she told me she loved me. I didn’t say it back, only because I wanted to tell her in a more romantic way than right after I fucked her in the back of my truck on an abandoned road. But we’ve never talked about her going to Luxton instead of Stanford.

“N-no,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “As far as I knew … she was going to apply to Stanford, and that was that.”

Given how brilliant Gemma is and how good her grades are, she’ll undoubtedly get in. So, it’s never been a wonder if she’ll go to Stanford, but more of a fact.

“My problem with your and my daughter’s relationship is that even after all the work she’s done for her future, she’s willing to throw it all away to stand beside you while you chase your dreams.” He breathes out a laugh, and the anger behind it is undeniable. “I read somewhere that less than five percent of hockey players make it to the NHL. And I’m not going to lie, Sawyer, but to me, even five percent sounds pretty high.”

His words strike a nerve, but I do my best to remain calm. If my parents taught me anything, it’s to show respect to those around you. But, fucking hell, this man is making it hard.

“What are you getting at, sir?” I ask, placing one hand on the banister and leaning slightly on it. “What do NHL statistics and Gemma going to Stanford have to do with each other?”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. He looks down, bobbing his head like he’s thinking. But when he finally looks up at me, I know he’s about to say something that I don’t want to hear.

“My daughter deserves to follow the dreams she set in place at a young age. And while I’m sure the engineering program is fine in Connecticut, Stanford has always been the goal.” He sets his shoulders back, angling his head upward. “Once you leave for college, she’s going to miss you. She’s going to wonder what you’re doing and who you’re with, and it’ll slowly eat her alive, having to worry so much. You’re too young to weather the storm of a long-distance relationship. And even if you could withstand it, what would happen then? Should she throw away everything she’d worked for and follow you around?” He gives me a look that’s half sympathetic and half condescending. “Your chances of making it to the NHL are next to nothing, Smith. So, please, don’t ruin my daughter’s future by allowing her to chase yours. Especially when it’s likely a pipe dream.”

His words are like a direct punch to the gut. My body feels as if it were floating because I’m so fucking mad, but I also feel discouraged.

What if he’s right? What if she follows me to college and I never make it pro? Or what if I do make it pro and she is stuck in my shadow? Stanford is all she’s talked about since her parents took her to visit the campus when she was in fifth grade. I could never be selfish enough to take that from her.

“So, what, you’re asking me to … break things off with her?” I can’t look directly at him. “You don’t think that’ll hurt her?”

“As much as it’ll hurt her, it won’t ruin her life,” he says brazenly. “If you care about her at all, you will let her go. Oh, and, Smith?”

Finally, I bring my eyes to his, feeling sick to my stomach.

“You aren’t going to tell her about this little conversation either. Because that party you were at last weekend? Rumor has it, there was weed there. I’m not so sure your hockey coach at Luxton would approve of that.”

“You’re blackmailing me into staying away from your daughter?” I growl low, narrowing my eyes. “Really?”

He takes a step toward me. “Son, one day, you might have a daughter. And when you do, I promise you … you’ll understand.” Reaching out, he pats my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Good luck at Luxton. And I really do hope you’re in that five percent, son. I just can’t let my daughter stick around to find out.”

“I’ll leave her alone,” I utter, feeling my heart pumping with anger. “But it’s not because you’re a coward and blackmailing me. It’s because, more than anything, I want her to chase her dreams too.”

“Good,” he mumbles.

When he walks away from me, every bit of air leaves my lungs because I know what I have to do and it’s going to fucking hurt both of us.

A Few Days Later

After pulling on some clothes, I walk toward the window and drag in a breath, feeling like something isn’t right. And I feel this way because it’s the truth.

Drawing back the curtain, I peer across the street at the Sawyer’s house as I brush my damp hair with my free hand. Smith’s truck isn’t parked out front, but I suppose it could be in the garage.

For nearly two full days, he’s avoided me. Which is the opposite of how he was for weeks prior, when we were practically inseparable. With each passing day, he makes an excuse as to why we can’t hang out … and it’s a day closer to when he leaves for college and begins his hockey training in Connecticut.

I can’t stop myself from thinking it’s my fault that he’s ghosting me. I blurted out the words I love you , and he didn’t even say them back.

I probably scared him away.

I love Smith Sawyer. I have loved him for as long as I’ve known him. I feel like a crazy person because imagining him really walking away from me is sending me into a spiral. I’m desperate to keep him, even if that makes me pathetic.

“Fuck it,” I murmur, dropping my hand from the curtain and tossing the brush onto my bed.

I should be comfortable enough to walk across the dang street and ask him what’s going on face-to-face.

You’re probably just overreacting. He’s busy. He has hockey. And friends. And a life.

I appreciate my brain for reminding me of those things, and that might be true, but still, my gut is telling me something is off.

Jogging down the stairs, I slide my sandals on and rush out my front door before I can convince myself not to. As I cross the street, the closer I get to Smith’s front door, the more nauseous I feel. This is stupid because not only is his sister my best friend, but their entire family is like my own.

Lifting my hand to the door, I shake my head at myself. I don’t think I’ve knocked on this door since I was probably nine. I’ve always just … busted in. For some reason, right now, that doesn’t seem appropriate.

I knew sleeping together would make everything weird.

Before my fist knocks, the door opens, and Saylor steps out.

She pulls the door closed behind her and walks over to the porch swing, plopping down.

“Hey,” she says softly, a troubled expression all over her face.

“Hi,” I whisper, standing across from where she sits.

She came over last night, and we watched movies, but I didn’t bring her brother up to her or tell her that he’d been acting strange the past few days. Saylor says she doesn’t care that we’re sleeping together, but I also don’t want to put our relationship in her face.

“Something tells me you didn’t come here, looking for me.” She swallows. “If you had … I don’t think you would have been standing outside, about to knock on the door.”

“Where is he?” I whisper, looking at the house.

She’s quiet, and that’s not something Saylor Sawyer is known for.

She drags in a shaky breath, her forehead creasing slightly. “Halfway to Connecticut by now, I’d imagine.”

Though the words slip from her lips regretfully, they hit me like a direct slap to the face, and my head snaps back.

“What?” Comes out more like a bark than a word. “What the hell do you mean, halfway to Connecticut? He’s not supposed to leave for almost two more weeks.”

Every word that comes from my lips only seems to pain her more. She rocks the swing gently, pushing her feet against the porch for momentum as she looks away from me.

“He left early, Gem,” she says sadly, lifting her gaze to mine. “I am so sorry.”

For a moment, I stand there, completely stunned. I know he’s been acting weird, but there’s no way in hell he just spent every spare second of his time the past month with me and then left without so much as a goodbye. There’s just no way .

“I don’t believe you,” I snap. “He’s inside, isn’t he? He’s found someone new or some shit, and he doesn’t have the balls to say it to my face even though we’ve known each other since we were kids.” My skin vibrates with anger and hurt. “You’re just lying to cover for him so he doesn’t have to deal with me himself.”

“Gem,” she whispers with a slight shake of her head, “you know me better than that.”

Taking a step back, I glance at the front door. “I’ll go see for myself.”

“Gemma, wait—”

I don’t listen to what she says next. I just bolt toward the door and pull it open. Rushing up the stairs, I round the corner and open his door. I know he’s gone right away without even looking around.

It’s not the missing posters and empty desk that tell me for sure either. It’s just a feeling—a deep, intense sensation in my soul—telling me I was too naive to believe this would happen.

I should have known it was all too good to be true.

Smith Sawyer might have fooled me once, but I’ll never be stupid enough to let him do it again.