Broken Kingdom (Royal Hearts Academy #4)(74)

Taking a wipe out of her diaper bag, he cleans his face. “You still going to meetings every day?”

Haven’t missed one yet and I don’t plan to.

“Yup. I catch one before work.”

He stands. “Good.” He looks at C.J. “Say bye to your brother.”

“Bye-bye.” She makes grabby hands for me so I lean down. “Love, Uh-oh.”

Jesus. This freaking kid. “Love you, too.”

Before I can stop her, she finds an abandoned Cheerio in her dress and sticks it in my mouth.

I try not to laugh but fail. I wouldn’t put it past her to start a restaurant when she grows up. This way she can feed people whenever she wants.

“Thanks for the snack, C.J.,” I mumble as I walk them out.

My dad stops short when we reach the front door. “Oak?”

“Dad?”

His gaze snaps to mine. “I know I’m giving you a lot of shit about talking to her, but I just want the best for you…and I really don’t think she’s it.”

With that, he walks out.

A tight knot forms in my chest. He’s wrong.

Reaching inside my t-shirt, I pull out the St. Christopher pendant and feather that belong to her.

Bianca Covington was the best thing that ever happened to me...

And I fucked it all up.





Chapter 34





Bianca





Stone lied to me.

He told me he wrote that poem, but he didn’t.

Oakley did.

God, I’m so angry I could scream.

I glance at the clock. Stone will be here any minute to pick me up for the party we’re supposed to go to for Ruth’s birthday and I can’t wait to see him so I can give him a piece of my goddamn mind.

I continue digging through some old purses in my closet, searching for the poem so I can confront him with the evidence before he can attempt to skirt around it.

He lied.

And yes, I’m lying to him about my secret friendship with Oakley and two wrongs don’t make a right, but…

I hiss when my finger slices across a piece of paper.

“Dammit.”

I’m about to get a Band-Aid for my papercut, when a note scrawled in my handwriting catches my eye.

I’m not good with words like you are, but I figured I’d try anyway.

I know you hate your birthday because it reminds you of your mom, but despite how much she disgusts me…I’m also grateful to her.

Because she brought you into the world.

This beautifully broken yet incredible person who’s fundamentally changed me for the better.

Because you’re the only one who’s ever been able to break through my walls and truly see me.

Happy birthday, Oakley.

Thank you for being born.





Thank you for saving me…even when it’s from myself.





Always yours, Bianca





Past…





My hands turn clammy as I fold the letter and place it on Oakley’s kitchen table.

Get a grip.

I’m not the kind of girl who gets clammy hands and butterflies in her stomach.

I’m also not the kind of girl who writes love letters…but here we fucking are.

I’ve been searching my brain for weeks, trying to come up with the perfect present to get Oakley for his birthday—well, aside from my mouth on that gigantic dick of his—but I couldn’t come up with anything.

Until this morning.

Given he writes poems, I figured he might enjoy something written by me.

Or maybe not, because I’m not nearly as good as he is with his words.

I did, however, write him something straight from the heart.

Something genuine.

I glance at the clock above the oven.

Oakley told me he’d be back around two a.m., but it’s now well past three.

Not that I should be worried, because he’s out with my brothers having his boys’ night so I know he’s safe.

I’m about to slip into his bed and wait for him there, but the latch on his front door clicks open.

A moment later a very drunk Oakley stumbles inside…but he’s not alone.

He—along with my equally drunk brothers—are standing on either side of him, slurring the words to some rap song.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter a curse.

I glare at Jace who up until now has always been the responsible one. “I thought you were the designated driver.”

He glances at his friend. “Oak told me I was being a buzzkill and fired me.”

Oakley and Cole snort.

I open my mouth to start screaming about the dangers of driving drunk, but Jace reaches over and pats my head. “Relax. We took an Uber home.” His face twists in confusion. “Why are you here?”

Dammit. Even plastered, Jace is too perceptive for his own good.

Ignoring him, I start herding the drunk trio over to the couch, however it’s the equivalent of wrangling puppies because Cole starts raiding the cabinets looking for food, Jace trips over the coffee table, and Oakley announces he has to take a leak before venturing to the bathroom.

“Does he ever go food shopping?” Cole whines as he joins a nearly passed out Jace on the couch. “I’m hungry.” He looks up at me. “Make me food.”