Wicked Scandal (Misfits #2)

Chapter 11

WILDER

“Where’s your brother?” Dad asks as he loosens his tie and takes a seat at the dinner table.

I look around, wondering what brother he’s talking about since I’ve got three, and I notice it’s Callan who’s missing.

I shrug my shoulders. “Don’t know.”

This is the fourth time in a week Callan has missed dinner with no explanation other than “I had shit to do.” Ever since football season ended, Callan’s been a bit of a miscreant. He’s running around with some sketchy guys and making some pretty shitty choices. Dad’s on high alert with his behavior and I can see the trepidation on his face right now.

“I need you all to rally and spend some more time with Callan,” he says sternly. “He’s heading down a path he shouldn’t be on. He and Brogan are about to finish their junior year and they’ve got one more to go before they’re out in the real world. I don’t feel Callan is near enough ready to face what’s waiting for him.”

I look around at my siblings who are all nodding and offering responses like, yes, sir, and of course. Then there is Lake, my youngest stepsister who’s a sophomore, she’s scribbling some sort of art onto her hand and paying no attention to anyone around her.

Being in high school is fucking hard. We’re all just trying to find our place and our people while knowing that soon, we’ll be thrust into the real world and all the strings we’ve tied will slowly unravel. Maybe not right away, but eventually, they will. Then we have to start all over and do it again—find our place, find our people.

I’ve got one more week left, and I’m terrified.

I shouldn’t be but the unknown is terrifying. Will I make it out there? Will this cruel world change me?

I’ve got a plan, but there is still so much to figure out. My job is lined up. I’m still making content and growing my following while monetizing off the SnapTok app. And now, I’ve met someone who makes all that other stuff seem less significant.

Just thinking about Cat has all my worries slipping away. In seven days I will be free to see her whenever I want. I’ll no longer be her student and she will no longer be my teacher.

“What are you smiling about?” Rome asks with a nudge to my shoulder.

I look up, feeling a rush of heat in my cheeks. I didn’t even realize I was smiling. “Nothing.” My eyes wander around the table and I see that everyone is looking at me, even Lake who has paused her Sharpie tattoo to see what’s going on.

“I know,” Elodie says with a smirk.

I give her a look, practically begging her not to say anything, because I think she really does know.

“Well,” Sayer says. “Don’t leave us hanging, El. What is it?”

I sweep my hand through the air, blowing out a breath of air. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“Sure I do,” she says confidently as she folds her hands on the table in front of her.

I fix her with a stern stare, moving my head in small, deliberate shakes. Don’t you dare mention Mrs. Jenkins, I internally beg of her.

Eyes deadlocked on mine, she says, “We’re done with high school next week. That’s all. Am I right, Wilder?”

My body relaxes, shoulders dropping from their tense state. “Yeah, of course. That’s exactly it.”

Once everyone continues eating, I stab a piece of steak with a fork and glower at Elodie who looks like she’s about to burst out in laughter. How is that girl so damn intuitive? She’s too smart for her own good. Probably why she got away with fucking her stepbrother and getting our parents’ approval. Too bad for her and Rome, they’ll be parting ways this fall, but I have no doubt they’ll make it work since their schools are sort of close. The love between them is clear as day, you can’t help but notice it.

“Sayer,” Dad says, clearing his throat. “You and Callan start football day camp in two weeks. I want you two to go there and come home together. That way I know he’s actually showing up. If he steps out of line, you let me know, okay?”

Sayer nods, but I call bullshit. He’d never rat on Callan. Those two are as close as Rome and me, and I’d never throw Rome under the bus. They’re as opposite as me and Rome, too.

Sayer is a lot like me—eyes on the future, treat others how we want to be treated. Whereas Rome and Callan like to raise hell for fun and have no problem using the backs of others as steppingstones to get what they want.

“Well, for anyone who cares,” Brogan says chipperly. “Cheerleading starts in two weeks as well, but I think I’ve got this alone. No need for anyone to trail behind me to make sure I get there.”

Brogan is on the varsity cheer team, and she lives for that shit. She’s already got her future mapped out for herself. After graduation next year she plans to attend the university in our neighboring town while cheering for the Devils’ football team.

As for Callan, no one knows what his plans are. Dad will likely bribe him just so he’ll attend college for a couple years because there’s no way in hell he’ll try and bring him into his company. He’d have to be a fool to do that. Callan doesn’t have a working bone in his body.

“I don’t doubt that,” Dad tells Brogan with a smile. “I just wish Callan had that same mindset with sports and school.”

“And what mindset is that?” Callan’s voice booms through the dining room as he enters, the musky smell of marijuana rolling off his all-black clothing. He pushes his unkempt hair off his forehead, exposing his squinted, bloodshot eyes.

Jerking a chair out from the table, he drops down with his legs spread and his head resting on the tall back cushion. He looks from person to person before saying, “You all talking smack about me behind my back?”

“Glad you could join us, Callan,” Dad says as he adjusts the napkin on his lap. “Is there a reason you’re late for dinner…again?”

“I was at the library.” He smirks and we all know it’s a lie. Callan wouldn’t be caught dead in a library. Not unless there were chicks there serving up pot and booze.

Dad rolls his eyes. “We’ll talk later, son.” He takes in a deep breath before moving his attention to me. “Jillian said she’s emailed you twice with no response. I need you to get on that. She’d like the draft for the board meeting by tomorrow evening.”

“Tomorrow evening?” I gasp. “Dad, I’ve got finals coming up and I’m behind on batching videos for…” I let my words trail off because that’s not a valid excuse for him. When he gives me a stern look, I know I already dug myself into a hole. School can be an excuse, but the thing I am passionate about that is actually making me money is not valid.

“I’ll get it done.” I stab a piece of meat on my plate a little too hard as my stomach sours.

“I know you will, Wilder. You’re doing great. And I have no doubt you’ll ace your finals.”

“Kiss ass,” Callan coughs into his fist before spewing laughter.

“Can we all just have a nice dinner?” Celia asks with a scorned look on her face.

“Shut up,” I snap at him, ignoring Celia’s plea. “At least I’m doing something productive with my time. We can’t all spend our days getting high and chilling.” I put air quotes around the word chilling so he knows that I am aware of exactly what he does with his buddies when they get high.

Callan sits up in his chair, scowling. “Of course not. Someone needs to crawl up Dad’s ass and remove the stick that’s buried up there.”

Fuming, I go to stand, but Rome pulls me back down in my chair. My teeth grind as I grit out, “Shut your damn mouth or next time I’ll shut it for you.”

Unfazed, he just sits there all calm and collected with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Original, Wilder.” He braces his elbows on the table, leaning in to tell me a secret that is loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Enough!” Dad shouts as his chair flies back and he gets to his feet. He stalks toward Callan then grabs him by the collar of his worn black tee shirt, pulling him out of his chair. “Outside! Now!”

“Chill out,” Callan scoffs, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just fucking with him.”

Dad smacks his palm to the back of Callan’s head. “Watch your mouth, young man. My wife and your sisters don’t need to hear you speaking like some misfit punk.”

“Wow,” Brogan draws. “That was intense. What’s gotten into him?” She looks from me to Rome.

I exhale a pent-up breath of rage. “No idea but if anyone can put him in his place, it’s Dad.”

“Everyone, just calm down,” Celia, my stepmom, says. “Callan is just going through something. We’ve all been there. He’s just dealing with it in ways we can’t understand. Just try to be there for him when you can, okay?”

We all nod in response then finish eating in dead silence. Lake is the first to stand and she excuses herself to go to play basketball at the park. Looking at the petite girl with purple streaks in her dark hair and art drawn all over herself, you wouldn’t think she’d be baller, but she’s got mad skills on the court. Lake is a little weird, but at least she has hobbies to occupy her time, unlike Callan. He’s got football and that’s only five months out of the year. And that’s all to say he doesn’t royally fuck that up his senior year because all he wants to do is get high.

I thought Rome processed our mother’s death in a piss-poor way, but Callan just seemed to shut down. Believe it or not, he and I used to be close. We would practice throwing the ball together in the yard and even attended football camps together. He’s always been my little brother, but something has changed this past year and it started the day we buried our mother.

A glance at my watch and I see that it’s already quarter to seven, so I scarf down the rest of my steak and mashed potatoes then excuse myself, too.

“I’ve gotta head out to clear my head so I can work on the speech for my dad,” I tell Celia. “I’ll be back later.”

I pick up my plate and head into the kitchen when I’m joined by Elodie. “So,” she begins, “care to tell me the truth about what’s got you in such a good mood lately.”

I scrape the excess food from my plate into the garbage then set it in the sink. “Do I look like I’m in a good mood?” I look at her glumly.

“Well, not now. But that’s because your brother is being a jerk. But before he got here, and every other minute of the day, you’re always smiling. I know it’s not Sam, so tell me who’s really got you so giddy all of a sudden.”

I laugh, that girl has been spreading rumors that we are practically getting married. “Definitely not Sam.”

“You do realize she’s been telling everyone you’re going to prom together and just meeting there, right?”

“I heard. She can think what she wants. She knows what I told her. I don’t want a date for prom.” I don’t buy into girls’ drama. Sam can pretend in her head. I won’t be dancing with her or even sitting by her. It was her choice to lie and it will be her choice to face the consequences of that lie.

I step aside so Elodie can clear her plate. Once she gets all the food off, she sets it in the sink and turns on the water. “You say you don’t want a date, but is there anyone you would absolutely go with if they asked?” She raises her brows, a smile playing on her lips as she awaits my response.

I play it cool because I know where she’s going with this. “Nope. Not a single soul.”

“Hmm.” She taps her chin. “No one at all?”

“I know what you’re doing, El.” I try not to get angry with her. I love the girl as if she were my blood sister, but I will fight for what I want. And I want—no, need—Elodie to keep her lips sealed.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” She looks so damn smug.

I take a deep breath and shut the water off for her before leaning into the counter. “There’s nothing going on, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“For your sake, I truly hope there isn’t. A lot of people would get hurt if there was.” Her eyes narrow at me as if she were my mother.

“Look who’s talking,” I say, stating the obvious. “Did you consider that when you started sleeping with my brother, your stepbrother?”

“No one got hurt in that process.” She points a finger at me. “Besides, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“But that doesn’t fly in my case?”

“It’s different.” She leans in, dropping her voice to a whisper. “She’s married. To the mayor, I might add.” Her eyebrows shoot to her forehead. “Your dad’s opponent in the election.”

“You’re telling me everything I already know, El. But…I think she’s in trouble.”

Fuck. Why did I say that? In the process of trying to defend myself, I shared something I shouldn’t have shared. I don’t owe Elodie excuses or reasoning for what I do. I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

Her eyes widen. “What kind of trouble?”

"Nothing.” My hand sweeps through the air. “Forget about it.” I walk toward the doorway to the dining room, but Elodie grabs the back of my arm.

“Wilder. You can’t just say something like that then walk away. You can trust me.”

“I know I can,” I say to her truthfully. Elodie and I have gotten pretty close and I’ve helped her through some shit so I know she just wants to help me, too. The thing is, I don’t need help. It’s Cat who needs my help.

“So tell me. Maybe there’s something I can do. You don’t always have to be the hero alone.”

Just as I open my mouth to speak, Rome comes into view. He shoots us a look of confusion. “Everything all right?”

“Does he know?” I say quietly to Elodie.

Her head tilts slightly to the left, a look of sorrow on her face. “I tell him everything.”

I figured. But it’s fine. I know I can trust Rome, too.

“Do I know what?” Rome asks, and his question has me dropping my head back with a sigh.

“I can’t do this right now, you guys. I’ve gotta shower then I have somewhere to be. We’ll talk later.”

“I’m holding you to it,” Elodie says with a stern eye when I glance back. “If something is going on, we want to help.”

“Something's going on with who?” Rome asks, stupefied by the conversation he just walked in on.

“Later,” I tell them both before walking out of the kitchen. Before they can say anything else, I head up the stairs.

Once I’m in my bathroom, I take a quick shower before throwing on a pair of gym shorts and a Misfits football tee shirt.

With my hair still glistening from the dampness, I head to the Cat’s guesthouse. I am careful to pull into the driveway at eight o’clock on the dot. With the car in park, but still running, I send Cat a message on SnapTok.

WildMisfit: I’m here.

She responds right away.

CatEyes: Me, too. You can come in.

With a smile on my face, I kill the engine and get out. I’m halfway to the miniature house when the front door comes open.

Cat steps out, nearly taking my breath away. She’s wearing a pair of black shorts that show off her long and impressively toned legs, a white tee shirt that hugs her curves, and her long hair piled in a bun on the top of her head.

Her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth as she gestures for me to hurry up. Her eyes dance around the yard, clearly fearful that someone might see me. I just hope that no one suspects anything or realizes it’s my car.

I guess it’s more of us being seen together that makes her nervous. Then again, if her husband is as possessive as I think he is, he could have people watching this place. I glance behind me to check just once, but everything seems quiet.

Stepping to the side, Cat gestures for me to come in then closes the door behind me.

“It’s good to see you,” I tell her. “You look beautiful.”

Her nose scrunches as she looks down her body. “I do?”

“You always do.” I brush my fingers over her cheek, loving the way she sighs into my touch.

“Thank you. You, umm…look nice too.”

I laugh and she does too. “No, I don’t. But thanks anyways.”

“Look, Wilder,” she begins, her voice growing serious as she walks into the small living room. “I told you to come here because I need to tell you this has to be the last time. We can’t keep doing this. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that we can’t talk like we have been. I know it’s my own fault. I started messaging you on that app and it was a mistake.”

“Hey.” I close the space between us, so sick of this damn conversation. “Don’t talk like that. It wasn’t a mistake. Those conversations meant a lot to me.”

She draws in a deep breath before saying, “They meant a lot to me, too. You have no idea how much.” I can hear the tremble in her voice and see as her eyes grow heavy with unshed tears. It makes me want to wrap her in my arms.

But something tells me she won’t let me this time. So, I approach her carefully, keeping some space between us, but not much.

“So why throw it all away?’” My voice is gentle, careful. I have no idea what happens when she speaks her mind to her so-called husband, but the way she’s already flinching has me moving with caution.

Taking a couple steps back, she sits down on the couch and drops her face in her hands. “You were never supposed to find out it was me. Talking to you was my escape from the life of Catherine Jenkins.”

I sit down beside her and on instinct my hand goes to her back, trying to sooth her. “I happen to like Catherine Jenkins. A lot, I might add.”

“Well, I don’t,” she confesses. “In fact, I don’t like her at all. She doesn’t have a backbone. She never makes decisions for herself—” I cut her off with a finger to her lips and she side-eyes me.

“Then make one,” I say, practically begging her with my tone. I drop my hand only for her to reach for it, then she stops herself. It’s infuriating to watch this battle in her mind of right and wrong, of what she wants and what she is willing to settle for. So, I try again. “Please. Make this choice for yourself. You said you like me, so stop pushing me away.”

Sad eyes land on mine and she gently shakes her head as my heart starts to break in my chest. “I don’t want to hurt you, Wilder. One way or another, we’re both going to get hurt in the end.”