Savage Rose: A High School Bully Romance (Rosehaven Academy Book 1) Read online

  Savage Rose

  Leila James

  Savage Rose © Copyright 2020 by Leila James

  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. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  For my dad,

  who isn’t here to read my books anymore, but I’m hoping he’d love the hell out of my pen name.

  Credits

  Editing by Rebecca Kimmel:

  www.thewritingrefinery.com

  Proofreading by Krista Dapkey:

  www.kdproofreading.com

  Cover Design by Diana TC:

  www.triumphbookcovers.com

  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

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Also by Leila James

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  It fucking hurts. Everything—my head, my heart, my very soul. I’ve shoved down my pain, wept until there should be nothing left inside of me. Yet, here I am. I still live. I eat, sleep, try not to cry, and continue on.

  Without her.

  My whole world came crashing down on me with my mother’s cancer diagnosis two years ago. Inside of those years, I’d lived a nightmare day after day, week after week, wondering when she’d be taken from me. Knowing the time we had left was slipping through our fingers like water through a sieve.

  But I’d hidden my pain from her. Hidden my worry. I’d kept a bright smile on my face, showed her all the love I had in me, and cared for her needs before my own. I’d given her everything, only to have her taken from me in the end. There was never going to be a different outcome, but I’d hoped for a miracle all the same.

  It’d been a foolish thing to do.

  I miss her. She’s been the one constant in my life and to have her ripped away from me like this?

  It sucks.

  There’s no other way to put it.

  And now I have to figure out how to move on without her.

  Aunt Liz, my mother’s younger sister, and her husband, David, immediately agreed to take me in, as per my mother’s wishes, but I’m well aware of what a burden I will be to them. My aunt had her seventeen-year-old niece thrust upon her because her sister is dead. I can’t even imagine. My aunt and uncle aren’t yet thirty, and I feel awful for the spot they’ve been put in.

  Hell, I don’t know how my own mother dealt with raising a child; she’d barely been more than a child herself when she had me.

  The athletic scholarship I’ve been awarded from Rosehaven Academy, the school my mother had attended, has been a shining beacon within this storm.

  Aunt Liz and Uncle David continue to talk as I shovel buttery mashed potatoes into my mouth without really tasting them. Eating is just a process these days. There’s nothing I really enjoy, because it’s hard to enjoy anything right now.

  I finally tune in when I realize they are talking to me.

  “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do, Scarlett? Rosehaven is … different.” Aunt Liz clears her throat. “I never went there, but I know from your mom’s experience the academic pressure is pretty intense, especially for scholarship students who need to maintain a certain GPA to stay.”

  Uncle David snorts, stabbing at the roast beef on his plate. “Not to mention the social pressure and cliques, the bullying, the hazing ...”

  I frown at him. “Be more specific.”

  Aunt Liz shoots daggers from her eyes at her husband. With a sigh, she levels her gaze on me. “He’s just basing that on rumors. It’s a typical academy atmosphere, only with a wider-than-normal gap between the haves and have-nots. Super-rich kids versus scholarship kids. Roses versus Thorns.”

  “Seriously? Roses and Thorns?”

  “Dead serious.” She rolls her eyes. “At least that’s how it was when your mother was there. I remember her talking about how tough it was sometimes and how she was made to feel like she wasn’t good enough.”

  Exasperated, my fork clatters as I drop it to my plate. “But don’t you see? The academic pressure is why I want to accept the scholarship. It’ll give me a reason to focus. A purpose.” I bite my lip hard, feeling the sting of tears gathering behind my eyes. “I want to feel closer to Mom. Rosehaven was important to her.”

  My aunt takes a measured breath, and my uncle just shakes his head with his eyes closed.

  “I have concerns with you attending a school like that … but if that’s what you—”

  “It is,” I interrupt. “If you’re giving me the choice of River Rock High School or Rosehaven Academy, I want to take the scholarship to Rosehaven.” I shrug. “It’ll help keep my mind off of things for a while. I know my mom had some troubles there, but my plan is to blend in and just do my thing, you know?”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Liz, Scarlett knows her mind. She’s almost eighteen. It’ll be fine,” my uncle grunts out.

  I throw an appreciative glance at him. “It’s what I want.”

  I note the tightness of Aunt Liz’s features. I hope she’ll come around and support me in this, because right now it feels like she thinks I’m making the wrong decision.

  “Okay, then …” She wipes her mouth and settles her gaze on her husband. “David, when do you want to show her what you brought home from work?”

  My head whips to my aunt’s face, and my mouth drops open in surprise. From work? My uncle owns a car garage. He’s a mechanic.

  “Come on outside with me for a minute.” He pushes his chair back from the table and stands, as does Aunt Liz.

  My eyes widen. “Really? Outside?” Tell me they didn’t.

  He nods and guides my aunt out the door
ahead of me, his hand on the small of her back. With his head close to her ear, I can’t quite hear what he whispers to her, but I hope it’s something encouraging.

  I’m sensitive to the fact that I shouldn’t be her problem. I wish I wasn’t her problem, but I see it weighing heavily on her. I hope she doesn’t break under the strain. Because for God’s sake, she lost her sister, too. The pressure to take care of me in a way her sister would approve of must be intense.

  The wave of guilt that hits as I walk out the door and see a shitty old silver truck in the driveway is powerful. Damn, they are trying so hard to help me.

  Uncle David runs a hand over his stubbled jawline. “I know she’s old, but she’ll still run for you. She’s got a lot of miles left on her yet.” He knocks on the hood as if to demonstrate the truck won’t fall apart on me. I’m not so sure about that. It looks like it’s older than I am. “Her name’s Ruth.”

  Momentarily stunned, I say nothing. A breath finally passes from between my lips, my gaze shifting first to my aunt and then to my uncle. “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “You’ve needed this a while. It’s not that we aren’t happy to drive you places, but I’m sure you’d prefer a way to get around on your own. To and from school. Out with friends. To a job, if you want one—no pressure there.” Aunt Liz grits her teeth.

  I give them a smile, the biggest one I’ve mustered since Mom died. “It sure will beat riding the bus.” And really, it’s better than nothing. I’m grateful. I’ll have transportation, which is something off my aunt and uncle’s plate. “Thank you.”

  Aunt Liz wraps an arm around my shoulders giving me a squeeze. “Anything for you, kid.”

  I nod as I look into her eyes and see all of her worries there, plain as day. Sometimes it’s like a punch to the gut how much she looks like my mom—strawberry blonde hair, stunning pale-green eyes, a curvy figure. I have to wonder how I didn’t get those genes, too. I’m built like a stick with boobs.

  I can’t say for sure if it would be harder for me or a relief to see her features reflected back at me in a mirror. My red hair, blue eyes, and thin build clearly came from my sperm donor, the ass who got my mom pregnant and then abandoned her.

  That’s right—no one knows who my dad is. She refused to tell anyone. Except maybe him? Not really sure about that.

  My aunt gives me another squeeze as she leans in and rests her head against mine. “Everything is going to be okay, Scarlett. You’ll see.”

  I hope to hell she’s right.

  Chapter 2

  The next morning, I lift my foot onto the bumper of my new-to-me old-ass truck to tie my sneakers. I’ve always loved to run and was on the cross-country team at my previous high school. I’d made all-county the year Mom got sick and made it to regionals. I’d placed well enough to go to the state semifinals, but in the end, I skipped it because Mom was having a procedure that weekend and I’d refused to leave her side.

  Apparently, someone had noticed and nominated me for one of the prestigious scholarships to Rosehaven. I have no idea who, as the offer had come out of nowhere.

  I put my earbuds in, select one of my more upbeat running playlists, and take off at a steady pace. I’ve got an eight-mile run planned, and if I start out too fast, I’ll run out of steam before I make it back. There really aren’t any shortcuts to be taken unless I want to run through an overgrown wooded area, but that sounds like the opening of a horror story. No fucking thanks.

  Aunt Liz’s house is located on the outermost perimeter of River Rock. The aerial view of the way the academy and the surrounding homes and community are set up is pretty interesting. Everything was built in a semi-circle around the academy, which backs up to a good-size river. Once you get past the school grounds, everything fans outward from there. Huge, mansion-like homes dot the first ring, followed by all of the stores and municipal buildings in the downtown area in the center. The outer ring, which is where I now live, is comprised of smaller, more modest homes.

  I’m moving at a good pace with no problems at all until about halfway through my run. A stitch in my side takes my breath away, and I grimace, knowing I’ll need to stop running for a bit if I want to get rid of it. I’ve never once been able to run through one and have it go away.

  A sharp jab of pain forces my hand, and I let out a little gasp, grabbing at my side. I hardly ever eat before a long run, and I silently curse myself for eating the big, delicious omelet Uncle David made me early this morning. I’d had a few sips of fruit juice, too, which is a big, fat running no-no.

  Damage done.

  With a sigh, I slow down to a walk, still pressing my hand against the cramped muscle. I bend over, hands on my knees. I know it’ll help if I breathe slowly and steadily for a few minutes. The last thing I want to do is have to call someone to come get me.

  “Hey, are you okay?” A deep voice sounds from behind me, loud enough that I hear it over my music.

  I whip my earbuds from my ears, jumping up and whirling around just as the other runner comes to a stop a few feet from me, breathing hard.

  He’s at least half a foot taller than my five feet, five inches. The sun is in my eyes so I squint in an attempt to make out his features, but his face is in shadow. “Hey.” My breathing is still labored from running, and I wrinkle my nose as I jam my hand against my side again.

  I raise my other hand to shield my eyes from the sun so I can actually see him, and holy crap. My eyes drink him in, and … he’s hot. Like, hot. His features can only be described as classically handsome—chiseled cheekbones framed by a strong jaw, straight nose, full, masculine lips, and rich, dark brown eyes surrounded by unfairly thick lashes—just like the models on the covers of the super sexy books my aunt writes.

  “I’ve just got a bad stitch in my side.”

  He grins, and holy cow, he’s got the straightest, whitest set of teeth I’ve ever seen. “Which way are you headed?” He points in the direction we were both going. “My usual run takes me through the center of town. If you’re going that way, want to walk? I’ll hang with you for a few, if you want. Make sure you don’t keel over.”

  I can’t help myself. My gaze drops quickly down his body as I give him a quick perusal. His tank top is absolutely soaked with sweat and plastered to the ridges of his muscled torso, and it’s seriously hard to look away. He’s cut. No doubt about it. Makes me wonder if he keeps in such good shape because he plays a sport at whatever school he attends.

  My tongue darts out to wet my lip, and I swallow hard, finding my throat very dry. Is it like that from the run or is it because Mr. Hot-as-Fuck has to be the most attractive guy I’ve encountered, like, ever?

  Everything in me urges me to use caution. You don’t know this guy. He could be a creeper. Maybe he was waiting for you to run past before he followed. All the things females are warned about. But, damn this creeper is good-looking. I laugh inwardly at the direction my thoughts had taken. I’ve clearly watched one too many episodes of You.

  Looking around, I note we’re in the expensive residential area just outside of the academy grounds. The gate to the wooded acreage of the school lies just up the road, and I have my phone strapped to my arm. If he gives me the creeps, I can head to the school offices or make an excuse to call my aunt for a ride.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He nods and runs a hand through his sweaty hair. “Cool.” He slides me a brief smile, and I return it, wincing a bit still because of the stitch.

  We walk side by side for a few paces, him with his hands propped on his hips, me trying to control my breathing.

  Finally, he breaks the silence. “Do you run a lot?”

  “Yeah, don’t let this fool you. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle and they wanted to make sure I ate”—I make air quotes—“a healthy breakfast.” I side eye him. “They aren’t runners. They didn’t realize it was a bad idea to eat before I headed out.” I huff out a laugh.

  “You should probably say something. Can’t have yo
u falling over or getting stranded out here all the time.” He tries to hide his amusement, but fails. “After all, you might not always have a gentleman come to your rescue.”

  I smile. His attention is making me dizzy. “Right? It’s—I just moved in with them. It’s hard right now. I don’t want to offend them or make them feel bad.”

  His brows lift. “I take it you don’t know them very well, then? Sounds like there’s some backstory here.”

  “You guessed it—perceptive of you. It’s my mom’s sister and her husband. We only used to see each other once or twice a year. So, I know them … but not that well.”

  “Wait. I don’t know if this is a dumb question or too personal, but why did you move in with them?” His curiosity is about to take us somewhere I don’t want—and sure as hell am not ready—to go.

  I heave out a breath and stop in my tracks, my head hanging. My voice is barely above a whisper when I respond. “My mom. She—” I can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut for a full count of three before I lift my head and open them again, meeting his gaze.

  This is silly. Talking to a stranger like this actually feels safe, and way easier than telling my aunt and uncle everything that’s in my head. All the misgivings I’m having about living with them, attending Rosehaven, starting my life over without the most important person in it. What would it hurt to open up to him?