Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
It’s been a long time since Casey Tresscott has felt like her life was her own. After the car accident that nearly cost her everything, she’s used to her family’s coddling and the relentless whispers at school, no matter how much they sting. After all, she’s found a safe harbor in her budding relationship with Sandover’s golden boy, Fenn Bishop…or so she thinks.
Beneath Fenn’s pretty, party-boy surface is a dangerous truth about the night Casey almost died. He thought lying to her was the right thing to do, but when the secret shakes loose, he just might lose her for good.
Because Casey is done being taken advantage of.
Grasping for the control she’s been missing, Casey finally snaps—telling off her bullies, gallivanting with rebels and playboys, and shirking her headmaster father’s strict curfews, despite the consequences. A desperate Fenn must ally with his stepbrother RJ and the other Sandover delinquents to uncover the full story of Casey’s accident and the ones responsible if he hopes to win her back.
But what happens if Casey is no longer the same girl he first fell for? Is there any hope for their future if she’s gone rogue for good?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
CASEY
Fenn: How’s your day going, cutie?
MY ENTIRE FACE NEARLY CRACKS IN HALF THANKS TO THE GIDDY smile that overtakes it. It’s almost disgusting what one little text from Fenn Bishop does to my heart rate. I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket during French class, half a dozen texts in quick succession, but I couldn’t check it, otherwise it would’ve been confiscated. So I sat there dying for the bell to ring. Now, between classes, I stand at my locker and read the messages that remind me this place isn’t real life. Nobody knows me here at St. Vincent’s. All the rumors and whispers constantly buzzing around me whenever I walk down the hall—they don’t matter. I know the truth. And so does Fenn.
That’s all that matters.
The giddiness intensifies as I scan the rest of his texts. He’s been doing this every day since we became friends. Texting me good morning. Checking up on me. Sending me dumb memes because he knows I haven’t smiled in a while.
It still feels so surreal. Fenn was a stranger to me for so long, just another upperclassman my sister occasionally hung around with. And then my car accident threw my entire world into chaos, and there he was with an easy grin and a strong shoulder for me to lean on. He befriended me, for no good reason other than he saw I needed someone and decided it would be him.
And for no good reason, I let him in.
As I head toward my media class, I type out a quick response.
Me: Oh, you know. The usual BS.
Fenn: Wanna ditch last period? I’ll come pick you up.
Me: Sloane would kill you.
We aren’t exactly public, Fenn and me. At least not where my family’s concerned. My dad and sister barely tolerate a friendship—I can’t imagine how they’d react to finding out Fenn and I are officially dating. I honestly don’t know who would lose their shit more. Last time she caught him hanging around, Sloane basically told Fenn she would put a hit out on him if he touched me. And Dad, well, if he didn’t have to clear it with the board of trustees, he’d have built a moat around our house by now. I’m not sure he really thought it through before accepting a headmaster position at an all boys’ boarding school in the middle of nowhere and brought his two teenage daughters along. Sloane and I were bound to fall for a couple of Dad’s delinquents.
Fenn: Worth it.
Me: You say that now.
Fenn: Nah. I’d risk Sloane’s wrath any day of the week. You’re just that cute.
My stomach does a happy flip. He’s too good at that. Or maybe I’m too easily impressed. Fenn throws the slightest compliment my way and I become a puddle of mush. It’s nauseating. Lately, he’s the best part of my day.
Me: Meet after school?
Fenn: Can’t wait. Usual place?
Me: Yep. I’ll text you when I get home.
I’m still smiling as I enter the classroom and take my seat in the second to last row. Not even Sister Patricia’s stern glare can hinder my mood. Although of course, she frowns upon smiling. Everything is frowned upon in this stupid school. St. Vincent’s is run by a group of super strict, terrifying nuns who view the girls more like wards than students. Every morning begins with fifteen minutes of chapel. Every class has assigned seating. My pre-calc teacher, Sister Mary Alice, even walks around slapping a wooden ruler against her thigh, ready to smack your wrist if you don’t finish your equations fast enough.
I hate this place.
“Hey, Casey.” Ainsley bumps my desk as she walks up. “Remember to take your meds today? I assume you do that at lunch so you can take them with food?”
Just like that, my spirits sink.
I clench my teeth, pretending not to notice the way she smirks at the prospect of spending another full hour picking at the bones of my carcass. I imagine she’s one of those girls who was dismembering her dolls and cutting off all their hair when she was little. Throwing rocks at squirrels to hear them scream.
Lucky me, I’m her new favorite toy.
People say that when faced with a seemingly insurmountable challenge, we tend to either rise to meet our potential, or regress to escape the problem. For me, I’m still stuck at the point of indecision. Neither fight nor flight, but grin and bear it. Close my eyes and bite down. If I’m being honest, though, I don’t think I’ve ever been Team Fight. Before I transferred to St Vincent’s from Ballard Academy, I probably would’ve been part of the flight camp, so I guess my current state is a step up from that.
Ainsley slides into her seat behind me, then taps my shoulder.
“What?” I hiss, turning in my seat.