Change My Game: An Emotional Second Chance Romance (North Haven University Book 2) Read online

  Change My Game

  Kelsey Clayton

  Copyright © 2020 by Kelsey Clayton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing by Kiezha Ferrell with Librum Artis

  To Christina

  You’re a rare gem &

  I’m really lucky to have you.

  Thank you for all you do.

  I love you.

  The sea of self hatred is flooding

  and oh God, tonight I’m drowning.

  L.C.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Wreck My Plans

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Kelsey Clayton

  I used to find something eerie about the darkness. After all, the bad things come out to play when the sun goes down—or that's what I was always told as a kid. But when that same darkness started to consume me from the inside out, I learned to appreciate the peacefulness of it all: The way the moonlight shines down with a delicate touch, allowing you to look directly at it without burning your eyes. It's calming.

  The campus of North Haven University is devoid of life at this time of night, with everyone either at some unsanctioned party they shouldn't be attending, staying up late to cram all the information they need into their brains for their next exam, or sleeping to prepare for another day full of classes. Classes that don't teach you anything important, mind you.

  Everyone always makes it sound like college is so important. “Your education is one of the most vital tools you will wield in life, son,” my father used to tell me. Personally, I think it's bullshit. No amount of math or history classes could ever make the shit I've gone through any easier. There’s no lecture from some professor that could numb the pain.

  No. There are other things for that, and they don't involve books.

  I walk across the empty courtyard, making my way back to my dorm, and find comfort in the way the cold January air nips at my skin. At least it makes me feel something, right? It may not be pleasant, but it tells me I'm still alive. Still breathing, despite feeling dead inside.

  Swiping my keycard against the door, I take the stairs slowly and remember a time when dorm rooms and living on campus weren’t a thing for me. When I was living the high life in a beach-view penthouse in Florida. When I was up above the city, it felt like nothing could touch me. Nothing could bring me down. Oh, how wrong I was.

  I unlock the door and step inside. All the lights are off except for the one over the kitchen stove, but my roommate is wide awake. He stands in the doorway to his room with his arms crossed over his chest and looks at me expectantly.

  “Where were you?”

  The urge to roll my eyes is instantaneous, but I hold back. “Went for a walk.”

  “Just a walk?”

  “Just a walk.”

  Carter Trayland has been my best friend since we were in elementary school. Our dads grew up together, and when my family moved back to the area, we started hanging out with his family every weekend. I'll be honest; at first I didn't like him. I thought he was arrogant and a pain in the ass, which he is, but he grew on me. At least until now, when he's coming toward me like I'm about to once again be interrogated.

  “So, if I asked you to empty your pockets...”

  This time I can't stop myself, and my eyes practically roll down the hallway. “What are you, my fucking dad? I'm not six and leaving the candy store with a guilty look on my face.”

  He chuckles dryly. “Maybe not, but you've sure as hell been acting like it lately.”

  I go to walk past him, not in the mood to deal with his shit right now, but he steps in front of me.

  “Get out of my way.”

  “No.”

  “No?” My brows raise.

  He stands firm. “No. Not until you tell me if you were out buying more drugs or not.”

  Having enough of this crap, I reach into my pockets and pull out everything in them, including my phone and wallet, and throw it all onto the ground. Carter jumps back before it hits his bare feet and sighs. I'm not sure if it's an exhausted sigh or a relieved one, because there is nothing he was worried about in the mess, but I don't stick around to find out.

  “There. Have a fucking field day,” I tell him. “I'm going to bed.”

  This time he doesn't stop me as I walk around him and into my room, closing and locking the door behind me.

  It's not that I don't understand his concern. I do. The choices I've made lately, the things I've done, they're dangerous and something I never expected for myself, but they're mine. He can't just dictate my life like some ruler on high just because he's known me the longest.

  People thought after everything happened that he and I would lean on each other. It's what we've done since we were kids, why would now be any different?

  Spoiler alert: they were wrong. The two of us drifted apart slowly, while still clinging to every ounce of the friendship we've found salvation in for years. But how can you stay so close when you're both in your own downward spiral?

  Memories of the tragic event that changed my life and everything since start running through my head and before I know it, my breathing becomes heavy and my chest starts to tighten. The pain is just too real, too crippling. It haunts me constantly—robbing me of the ability to think rationally.

  I scramble over to my nightstand and rip open the drawer. Under everything, hidden in the cut-out pages of a baby book, I find my baggie of white powder and bottle of pills. I don’t even know the names of all of them. All I know is how they make me feel. How they take away the pain. How they make it a little easier to breathe, and sometimes, even take away the nightmares.

  Grabbing a half-empty bottle of water off the floor, I use it to swallow down a few. My head leans back against my bed, dripping sweat like I just ran a marathon. The only thing I can do is wait for them to kick in.

  And as my breathing starts to calm and everything begins to tingle, I don't even bother to move from the floor to my bed. I fall asleep right where I am, embracing the few moments where I don't feel like I'm drowning.

  LISTENING TO A PROFESSOR drone on about some topic I don't give two shits about has to be a close second to walking in circles for pointless activity. I mean, in all actuality, how is knowing who painted the Sistine Chapel supposed to help me at all? It won't, plain and simple.

  Class finally lets out, and I all but run toward the door. My
skin itches, and I can feel the darkness creeping in, like it's wrapping its dirty little claws around my heart and threatening to squeeze if I don't do something to calm it down.

  With Carter always being down my damn throat lately, I've had to keep from carrying anything with me. He cares, I get it—but it makes times like this really difficult. Thankfully, that was my last class.

  Being on the other side of a rather large campus, I was too lazy to walk this morning and decided to drive. However, as I approach my car and find my dad parked behind me, I start to wish I had chosen differently.

  My fucking luck.

  He rolls down his window and leans over to the passenger side. “Get in.”

  “I would, but I've got a lot of studying to do.”

  The passenger door opens as he presses a button. “I just want to go for a ride. It won't take long.”

  Being as my only options consist of going with him or driving my Mercedes over a sidewalk to get out of the parking spot, I groan quietly and get in his car. Students stare as we drive away, but it's nothing I'm not used to. Being one of the wealthiest people in this town isn't new to me, and for some reason, that always seems to fascinate people.

  “Your grades for last term came in,” he says flatly.

  Great. “I know.”

  “You only passed by the skin of your teeth. You do realize that, don't you?”

  “Yep.” I pop the p with more sarcasm than I probably should, but I can't find it in me to care right now.

  He drives through downtown, and all the places I've been avoiding stare back at me. It's all things that remind me of my life before everything went to shit. And no one wants to remember when things were better, because they're not now. They're different. I'm different.

  “Your mother is afraid you're going to kill yourself,” he tells me with a grave tone.

  A small voice in my subconscious whispers that she should be, but I swallow it down. “Why?”

  “Because of your behavior lately. You were expelled from Florida State. You're damn near failing classes at NHU. You're not talking to anyone. And God forbid you come home every once in a while.”

  I cross my arms and turn my glance to the window. “I'm fine.”

  “Maybe so, but she's worried, and frankly, so am I.” He turns into a parking lot and the sign in front of me reads North Haven Behavioral. “You have an appointment here tomorrow at 3:00 p.m.”

  “A fucking shrink?” I growl. “You're sending me to a fucking shrink?”

  He takes a deep breath, pressing a finger against his temple. “You need to talk to someone, Jace.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” I shake my head. “I'm not going. I'm twenty years old. You can't make me.”

  As if he was fully expecting that reaction, he levels me with a look. “If you enjoy having access to your trust fund, you will.”

  My jaw drops. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  The whole ride back to campus is dead silent. I should've known something was up. He only wants to go for a drive when he needs to talk about something and is afraid I might cause a scene.

  Sure, I could tell him to take my trust fund and shove it up his ass, but then I wouldn't be able to afford the one thing that manages to make things okay. I'd be left to deal with the pain on my own, and I've tried that. They're afraid I'm going to kill myself, but what they don't realize is that taking away my ability to tame the demons inside me could cause exactly that.

  We pull up to my car in the parking lot where I left it, and I don't say a word as I jump out. My dad, on the other hand, has different plans.

  “I'm just trying to help you, son.”

  I snort. “Yeah? Well, threatening me is a weird-ass way of showing it.”

  He doesn't try to reason with me or say anything else as I shut the door and he drives away.

  Maybe I'm being an ungrateful shit. So my parents worry. Boo fucking hoo. Yeah, I know, poor pitiful rich kid. But their version of caring is to send me to some quack who thinks that because they went to college, they get to tell you how something makes you feel.

  Fuck that.

  It'd be better if everyone would just leave me the fuck alone.

  Leave me to burn in the pits of hell I've ended up in.

  Growing up, I always imagined what college would be like. My childhood was practically idyllic, with the perfect parents who gave me everything my little heart desired. But for some reason, I could never stop dreaming about finally being on my own.

  I wanted it all.

  To move hundreds of miles away.

  Dorm life with my best friend.

  Parties on the weekends.

  And I had it. Everything I had pictured when I was a kid, it was mine—until one phone call from my mom threw my life on a whirlwind trip to hell.

  One Month Ago

  "Okay, honest opinion," Becca says, holding up two dresses. "Red or black?"

  I look them over carefully, comparing each one to her skin tone. "Red."

  That must be what she was hoping for, because her smile widens and she tosses the red one onto her bed while putting the other back in the closet.

  Tonight is the annual Greek Week party at Lambda Kappa Phi, and the whole sorority is going. Last year, it was a rager, and at least four people ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Hopefully, people are a little better this time at managing their intake.

  Being in a sorority was never a goal of mine, but when my best friend came bursting into our dorm room and wouldn't stop begging me to do it with her, I couldn't say no. It took a while to adapt, but there's nothing wrong with living in a gorgeous house with a bunch of friends you call sisters.

  The sound of “Party in the USA” by Miley Cyrus fills the room as my phone rings. Becca sings along quietly, not even judging my choice in ringtone. It's a classic, okay?

  "Hey, mom."

  "Hi, baby," she answers. "How's everything going?"

  I put my phone on speaker and place it in my lap. "It's good. Just getting ready for a get-together tonight with Becca."

  "Hi, Mama McAllister," Bec shouts across the room.

  She chuckles, but something feels off about it. "Hi, Rebecca."

  Becca cringes at the use of her full name, but never bothers to correct her. My mom has been calling her that since we were babies, refusing to adopt the nickname she started using in first grade.

  "Rebecca, go pick out my outfit," I demand.

  She grabs a pillow from her bed and throws it at me, sticking her tongue out when it hits me directly in the face. However, the small sniffle that comes through the phone brings all my attention back to my mother.

  "Mom? Is everything okay?"

  "Uh, yeah." She tries to cover it up, but fails miserably.

  "Mom."

  It takes her a minute to answer, and a part of me wonders if she's going to try lying again, but she doesn't.

  "Okay, no," she admits. "I really didn't want to tell you this over the phone, but I always promised to be honest with you."

  As the next words come out of her mouth, my whole body goes numb. I don't even know if I'm listening anymore as Becca drops everything in her hands and rushes over to my side. It's like my brain is registering all the information coming through the phone, but the world around me is deadly quiet.

  A tear escapes from my eye and slides down my cheek. It's the only sign my best friend has to tell her that I'm listening.

  "Rebecca, is she okay?" my mom asks. "Why isn't she answering me?"

  "I don't know. I think she's in shock."

  As rage and anger build inside of me, I grab my phone and chuck it across the room—watching as it shatters against the wall. Becca flinches, but it only makes her hold me tighter. Suddenly, it's like all the hurt and anguish I'm supposed to be feeling rushes over me in waves.

  "He...he..."

  I can't even say the words out loud. They're too foreign. Too impossible.

  "No," I plead. "Not him. He can'
t be..."

  Becca rests her forehead against my shoulder and cries along with me. The pain that fills my chest is unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's raw, and aching, and if it was possible, I'd rip my own heart out just to feel the slightest bit of relief.

  I don't know how long we sit there. It could be minutes. It could be hours. But the whole house becomes a silent tomb before Becca gets up and offers me her hand.

  "Come on," she tells me.

  "Where are we going?"

  The warm, yet sad smile is one only my closest friend could give me. "To book your flight."

  "Paige!"

  My attention jolts back to where it belongs. Quickly gazing around the room, I notice everyone is out of their seats and making their way to the door, except Charlotte. She's standing over my desk, looking at me like I've lost my ever-loving mind.

  "Is everything okay? You spaced out for almost half of class."

  I rub my hands over my face. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well last night."

  It's not exactly a lie. I didn't. But then again, I don't sleep well most nights.

  Charlotte waits for me to collect my things, and the two of us head out.

  I have to admit, I never expected to find someone like Charlotte. Someone who doesn't just look out for herself, or isn't trying to be my friend because my dad controls most of the oil in the entire country. I mean, she doesn't even begin to take Becca's place, but she was the first person to talk to me after I transferred to North Haven University, and our friendship grew from there. Granted, it's only been a few weeks, but it's going well so far.