Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,84

of tremendous relief.

It is one of settling.

A feeling that I haven’t experienced since my father died three years ago and then, shortly after, my mother and I moved into the attic in the inn and my life started unraveling thread by thread.

I lose myself in the settling.

And suddenly Cooper feels surreal. Being here in his house. The scholarship at the end of the summer. The new friends, the new clothes, the new everything.

Then comes the guilt.

What kind of terrible person loses her mother one month ago and just slips into a new life like this? A new life filled with privilege. Pool parties, and champagne toasts, and lakeside mansions that hold angsty bully kings inside.

And let’s not forget that you might actually be looking forward to going to High Court College. Even though your parents lived on this campus since you were born, and they never wanted that for you.

Is this rebellion? Do I have some secret desire to erase everything they taught me?

I don’t think so.

Then why?

Why am I doing this?

I should not be looking forward towards the future. It’s too soon. I should be stuck in the past. At least for a little bit.

And I should not want to go to this school or get involved with their weird secrets.

But… I do.

I have wanted to be a part of High Court since I was a little girl. Oh, how I wanted to wear the prep-school uniform. The mustard-yellow pleated skirt and the perfectly-tailored navy-blue blazer with those fighting lions embroidered in gold on the left breast pocket. The crisp white shirt and the navy and gold striped tie. Don’t even get me started with the white knee socks and those gold tassels bouncing along their calves as the rich girls walked through the beautiful central gardens that my father created like they owned the world.

And they did. At least in my mind.

I do love who I am. But is it so wrong to want more? Is it so wrong to grab the golden ring when it’s in reach?

Cooper turns over and I slip out of his arms. He’s sleeping hard. And for the first time in years, I wonder how Cooper is really doing.

I turn too. And I study him in profile. His mouth is open a little, his breathing slow and even, but a little bit loud. Like he’s tired.

That’s what he told me that one night we were talking in his boat. I’m tired, Cadee.

And he is. I can tell. He wants out so bad.

And I only want in.

I swing my legs out of bed, put my clothes on, and leave his room. I don’t know where I’m going. Maybe Mona is outside smoking.

But then, when I get to the bottom of the stairs, I hear noises in the kitchen.

I silently creep down the long central hallway and enter the great room to find Ax leaning against the large soapstone island. His back is to me, and even though there are no lights on, the moon is shining through the French doors.

His back. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before, because Ax never takes his shirt off. He hasn’t been swimming in the pool once so far this summer. And even three years ago, when we were together for months, he never took it off then, either.

And now I know why.

Scars. Long gashes cover his back like… claw marks. But there is almost no animal alive that can make a gash like that. Maybe a lion or a tiger, but come on. That’s just stupid.

So how did they get there?

He turns to the industrial-sized refrigerator, swinging the door open so I can’t see his face. Then he takes a jug of milk over to the far counter, gets a glass from the cupboard, and stares at it in his hand for a few moments too long.

He uncaps the milk, lifts it to his lips, and drinks straight from the jug. And then turns again and sees me with my mouth hanging open.

Because he’s got scars on his chest too.

“Cadee,” he whispers, quickly putting the milk down. “Is everything OK?”

“Is everything OK?” I repeat.

“What’s wrong? Why are you down here?”

“Ax,” I say, walking towards him, unable to stop looking at the large, round burn marks where his fighting lions should have eyes. I reach for them with my fingertips, but he grabs my hand in his fist before I can touch him. When I look up he’s staring down into my eyes. “What is this?”

He sighs,