Page 5 of Rogue’s Promise

Everest: Meet me at our spot. Ten minutes.

Just like that, the leash around my neck tightens. No pleasantries. Only another order to follow. The rebellious part of me almost resists, my eyes sliding back from the open sketchpad on my knees to the stacks of canvases beside the wall. I could ignore him, but the alternative is sitting here and continuing to lose my fucking mind. Marcus the orderly would fucking love my relapse, keeping him in a job. Yet, as Everest knows, I will take every scrap of his attention that I’m gifted.

Wiping my hands on a rag, I change into a clean white T-shirt and leave. My legs carry me across campus, the route embedded into me like muscle memory. Down the back of the performing arts building, through a narrow service path and past a greenhouse with fogged panes and locked double doors. An old cluster of stones dips unevenly beneath my feet. Hollowbrook is full of places designed to be seen, from grand halls and manicured lawns to trophy cabinets and framed certificates. However, there are a few spots that have been forgotten, which Everest and I spent my entire first year seeking out.

Behind an abandoned observatory, half-buried beneath weeds and a weather-worn pathway, there’s a narrow gap between the outer wall and a crumbling stone arch, almost invisible unless you know where to look. Ducking through it, the scrape of thorns tugs at my T-shirt until I step into an enclosed garden no one uses anymore, bordered by old brick and tangled roses. In the center is the skeletal remains of a fountain that hasn’t held water in years.

Everest is standing beside the fountain as I enter, one foot braced on its stone rim. Dressed in an expensive polo shirt and tailored jeans, a backpack hangs loosely in his hand whilst the other is lightly touching his throat. The afternoon light catches on his sandy blonde hair like strips of gold, the definition of his jawline stealing the air from my lungs. He will never not have this effect on me. The respectful, well-mannered young boy who’s grown into a vision of sin. Veins skate over his forearms like webs, his broad shoulders fighting against the material of the polo.

At the crunch of a twig beneath my sneakers, he turns, and then I see the bruise. It sits across the front of his throat in ugly shadows, a violent smudge of impact blooming against his skin. My brow dips at the same time as my stomach drops.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, rushing over now. Whatever movie-worthy reunion could have been is instantly dashed. Standing tall to match my height, Everest simply grins. Not the polished grin he gives cameras. This grin is reckless, matching the bright glint in his stunning green eyes.

“Meg punched me,” he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. My entire body stills, gaze flicking from his to the bruise and back. I could ask a thousand questions, from the when to the why, but it’s pointless. This is exactly what Everest wanted. Meg’s anger. Meg’s rage-filled attention. Her hostility speaks to him on a level that no one, not even I, can understand. And here I was thinking that I’d be the one to bring the life back to his eyes.

“Congratulations,” I drawl, taking a guarded step back. The wide grin on Everest’s face falters as I draw my arms across my chest. “I’m happy for you.” The lie grates against my teeth, sarcasm dripping from my tone. As Everest reaches for me, I take another step back.

“Code, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” I laugh sharply, looking to the sky for patience. “Don’t react? Don’t have opinions? Don’t stand here like an idiot when you haven’t had that same look for me in years?” I gesture towards his face and throat. Everest’s hand drops between us, his fingers curling like he is fighting the urge to try and reach for me again. I hate that I want him to, hate that my body craves his touch even when my head is screaming at me to stop being so pathetic.

He has no idea what being in that rehab facility did to me, what it dragged up, what it made me admit in quiet rooms with locked windows and staff who asked if I was safe while I lied through my teeth. Pretending to be suicidal came far too easily, convincing everyone I needed saving was more like dropping a mask than wearing a new one. Between group therapy and personal life coaching, I started wondering which parts were still pretend. I went there because Everest asked me to, and he hasn’t even asked if I’m okay. A cold, icy wash of realization consumes me. I walked into that clinic for him, and he is still absorbed in looking past me to see her.

“I do care,” is all he says, his expression hardening as that familiar frustration slips in. We’ve had this fight countless times before. Shaking my head, a sigh escapes me. I’m so done with this. As if he can see the thoughts running through my head, Everest storms forward now, gripping my biceps in his large hands. I shrug, but he refuses to release me.

“Maybe it’s time to admit our time has passed.” I stare straight into his green eyes. “What we had, what we were to each other, was out of necessity to survive a shit childhood. Maybe it would be a kindness to just let you go.” A flash of anguish bursts within his expression, his voice hoarse as he tries to growl.

“How can ripping my heart out be a kindness?”

“I meant it would be a kindness to me. I matter, Everest, and I’m worth more than this.” I swallow, the knot in my chest constricting. Wow, Counselor Stevens would be beaming if she heard that. Her sessions weren’t completely wasted on me.

For a moment, we just stare at each other. The silence is deafening, a faint rustle of leaves intruding as my world shatters at my feet. Knowing what’s right doesn’t make it hurt any less.

This time, when I shrug out of his tightened grip, he lets me step away. I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he finds the right words to bring me running back, and I can’t allow myself to hear them. Can’t allow myself to dwell on the fact I won’t feel the press of his lips again, the weight of his body pressed against mine, the pride I experience when he tells me I’ve made him the man he is. I make it a whole three steps toward the archway before his voice inevitably sounds.

“Cody, wait.” I stop despite myself, jaw tightening and already regretting it. Here it comes, the groveling and pleading. “I need another favor.”

Even the leaves surrounding us seem to go still. My heart beats within my ears, the archway before me blurring as I battle with the surge of frustration at those four words. Then a bitter laugh seeps through my breath.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter. Stepping up behind me, Everest’s heat seeps through my back. His mouth drops to my neck, pressing over my pulse.

“I know I shouldn’t ask.”

“Do you know you’re a walking red flag?” I reply, even though my head tilts to give him better access. Everest exhales against my skin in almost a laugh, the sound slipping beneath my defenses before I can reinforce them. Kissing the spot behind my ear, his head leans against mine as a hand is braced over my abdomen. The length of him against my back is heady, the type of contact I’ve been craving all these months I’ve been locked away.

“This will be the last time, and then if you’re done with me, I’ll respect that.” His fingers spread across my abdomen, gliding to the opposite hip to wrap me into his arm. I hate how quickly my body remembers what my mind is trying to forget, how I fall into the trap of him trying to hold all of my fragmented pieces together.

“What do you want?” I sigh in defeat. I was a goner as soon as he touched me. Everest’s lips hover beside my jaw just before he answers, dragging out the silence because he knows I’m not going to like what he’s about to say.

“Meg has publicly challenged me to a one-on-one match tomorrow lunchtime. Students are going crazy about it. My father’s assistant will likely have already seen the posts and informed him, so I have to see it through. I’ll have to play to win.”

“So play to win,” I shrug. His hand tightens against my side as if the thought physically pains him, his voice becoming strained again.

“I can’t humiliate her like that. What kind of asshole beats someone fresh out of rehab at their own game?” I want to reply, Everest Calloway does, but I know I’d strike a nerve. Everything Everest is, what he’s had to become, is to appease Nicholas and keep me here. One toe out of line and I’ll be sent somewhere that makes the rehab seem like a deluxe hotel.

“Everest,” I almost groan, stuck between the shifting of his groin against my ass and the frustration of how easily he can manipulate me. But I made him like this. I corrupted him out of spite. I tailored him to know my preferences. I only have myself to blame. “What do you want me to do?”

His other hand comes up then, brushing my hair away from the side of my throat with a tenderness that should be illegal. He drags his nose along the line of my neck, not kissing this time but just breathing me in like he missed me. My eyes close before I can stop them.