Broken Kingdom (Royal Hearts Academy #4)(86)

Exasperated, she throws up her hands. “Gee, that really clears things up.”

“I’m serious, Dylan. The douchebag can’t deal with the fact that Bianca doesn’t want to get married and called off the wedding, and he thinks starting with me will fix it.”

Dylan opens and closes her mouth like a fish. “Bianca called off the wedding?”

“Yeah. Last I heard anyway.”

She blows out a breath. “Wow. I mean, I definitely don’t think it’s a bad thing.” She wags a finger in my face. “But what is a bad thing is you fighting.”

“The fucker deserved it.”

“That may be true, but you have a rap sheet now and the last thing you need is to be on the cops’ radar again because they will haul you back to jail.” She puts her arm around my waist. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch and we can talk.”

We start walking…until I recall what she said the other week. “Dylan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think I have what it takes to be a songwriter?”

She smiles. “I really do, Oak.”

I mull this over for a hot minute.

Stone’s comment about me only amounting to a janitor shouldn’t bother me.

But it does.

All my life I’ve always done the bare minimum. Never branching out.

Never believing in myself.

Because I’ve been too afraid of screwing shit up to even try in the first place.

“Do you think you can give that Landon dude a call?”





Chapter 39





Bianca





My heels clack as I make my way up the staircase leading to his apartment.

Oakley’s obviously upset with me, but instead of talking to me about it…he’s avoiding me.

And I’ve had about enough of it.

Making a fist, I bang on his door so loud my hand hurts.

I don’t give a fuck that it’s early in the morning or that it’s his day off, I need him to talk to me now, dammit.

The door swings open after my seventh knock.

I have to remind myself to breathe when he answers it wearing nothing more than a pair of gray sweatpants.

He brings the spoon from the bowl of cereal he’s munching on to his mouth. “Hey—”

“You promised,” I yell. “You pinky promised you wouldn’t leave me, yet the first time I do something you don’t like, you get upset and abandon ship.” I stab the air with my finger. “Not fucking cool, Oakley Zelenka. I know me being with Stone is hard for you to swallow, but you don’t get to stand there and get butthurt over the decisions I make when you won’t even tell me what happened between us.”

He takes another bite of his cereal, studying me carefully as he chews. “You done yet?” I watch the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. “For your information, I was gonna ask if you wanted to chill today.”

I clench my hands. “Then why didn’t you?”

His lips curve into a smirk as he glances at his watch. “Because it’s nine o’clock on a Saturday, and you’re not a morning person.”

He’s got me there.

“Oh.”

My stomach tightens when he takes a step closer. The look in his eyes is downright feral. “And just so we’re clear, baby girl. I don’t give a fuck about your little boyfriend.”

And just like that, he reduced Stone to nothing more than a crumb on a counter.

I’m about to suggest that maybe it’s best we don’t talk about him, but he says, “Let me get dressed and I’ll take you out to breakfast before we go on our adventure.”

Not that he didn’t already, but it’s safe to say he has my undivided attention. “Adventure? What kind of adventure?”

Back to munching on his cereal again, he simply winks. “You’ll see.”





I stare at the building in confusion.

When Oakley said we were going on an adventure today, I had no idea he meant doing something so…permanent.

I shuffle my feet nervously because the idea of needles and ink going into my skin doesn’t sit well with me. “Do I have to get one, too?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. You’re just here for moral support.”

“Aw,” I tease. “You need me to hold your hand?”

His eyes are so haunted it hurts my heart. “Always.”

With that, he opens the door and we amble inside.

I watch as Oakley gives some big burly dude behind the counter a fist bump. “What up, man?”

“I’m good to go whenever you’re ready,” the guy tells him.

My curiosity grows as we all walk to a room in the back of the shop.

“What are you getting?”

That mysterious glint in his eye is back again. “You’ll see.”

Oakley takes a seat on a big black chair and I plop down on the one across from it.

The man starts setting up shop, and a moment later I hear the buzzing from the tattoo machine.

I blink in confusion when I realize the guy is tattooing Oakley’s fingers.

“You’re getting your fingers tattooed?”

I’m not trying to judge, but that’s one hell of a place to be inked.