Waiting Game: Ocean Bay #2 Read online

  Waiting Game

  Ocean Bay #2

  Chloe Walsh

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  Author’s Note

  Preface

  The Past

  Eight years ago

  Present Day

  Molly

  Daryl

  Daryl

  The Past

  Twelve years ago

  Present Day

  Daryl

  The Past

  Eight years ago

  Present Day

  Molly

  Molly

  Daryl

  The Past

  Eight years ago

  Present Day

  Molly

  Daryl

  Daryl

  Molly

  The Past

  Thirteen years ago

  Present Day

  Daryl

  Molly

  Daryl

  Molly

  Molly

  Molly

  Daryl

  Daryl

  Molly

  The Past

  Eight years ago

  Present Day

  Molly

  Daryl

  Daryl

  Molly

  Molly

  Daryl

  Molly

  Daryl

  Daryl

  Thank you so much for reading!

  Other Books by Chloe Walsh

  Titles Available as Audiobooks:

  Social Media Links

  Playlist for Waiting Game

  Song for Molly

  Songs for Daryl

  Songs for Rourke & Mercedes

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The right of Chloe Walsh to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system – without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Published by Chloe Walsh

  Copyright 2014 by Chloe Walsh

  All Rights Reserved. ©

  Waiting Game,

  Ocean Bay #2,

  First published, February 2020

  All rights reserved. ©

  Cover designed by Sarah Paige @ Opium House Creatives

  Edited by Aleesha Davis.

  Proofread by: Brooke Bowen Hebert.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all songs titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses, brands, mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized/ associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Chloe Walsh is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  All rights reserved ©

  For my wonderful daughter, Ava.

  I love you so much, bubba. xx

  Author’s Note

  Waiting Game is the second installment from Ocean Bay, is duel POV, written with a combination of past and present chapters and scenes, and ends on a cliffhanger.

  It can be read as is, without reading the first book in the series, but I advise you read Endgame first to have a better understanding of the characters in the series.

  Because of its explicit sexual content, mature themes, triggers, and bad language, it is suitable for readers of 18+.

  Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure.

  Lots of love,

  Chlo xxx

  Preface

  Have you ever known someone for so long that you have no conscience memory of the first time y'all met? You were born and they were just there. Kind of like a parent or an older sibling. You've never known life without them in your world.

  Well, that's how I felt about him.

  I could rack my brain a million times over and still fail to pinpoint the moment he crashed into my life.

  I could only remember the night he was taken away.

  Coincidentally, that also happened to be the same night that I lost everything.

  The Past

  Eight years ago

  Molly

  It was a little after dark. My parents were at a church function, and Sabrina, our sitter, was putting my baby brother Bobby down for the night.

  I sat on the sidewalk outside of my house, studying the light dusting of blonde hairs on my legs that were illuminated by the street lamp, all the while listening intently to the vicious screaming coming from the house across the street.

  It won't be long, I thought to myself, as I released a heavy sigh and stretched my legs out in front of me. It never was.

  Right on cue, the front door across the street flew open and the voices that had been muffled before were loud and clear now.

  "That's right, you little bastard. Keep on walking."

  "Wren, please! He's just a child –"

  "And don’t come back until you've found some manners!"

  "Wren!"

  "Better still, don’t come back at all."

  "Don’t beg that piece of shit for me, Mama. I don’t want a damn thing from him!"

  "Did you hear that? Did you hear how that little bastard just spoke to me? I want him out of this goddamn house, Trish…"

  Glued to the spot, I watched as a glowering boy came thundering down the garden path with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

  Hair so dark it was almost black in color stood up in forty different directions, matching the disheveled look about him.

  "Come on, Molls," he called out, not stopping when he rounded the white picket fence that surrounded his parents' beautiful home, and took off in the direction of the town. "Let's bounce."

  He didn’t even look to see if I was there because he knew I would be.

  I was always there when he needed me.

  Like the dutiful best friend I was, I quickly climbed to my feet, shouldered my own backpack, and raced after him.

  Struggling to keep up with his long strides, I puffed out a breath. "Can you slow down?" Panting, I snagged the back of his ripped t-shirt and tugged. "My legs ain't as long as yours, D."

  Not bothering to look at me, Daryl reached for my hand. Still moving like a speeding bullet, he held my hand in his and tugged me along. I could feel the tremors rolling through his tall frame and I knew that he was close to tears– something he hated doing.

  "I hate him, Molls," he finally broke the tension by hissing. "I hate him so fucking bad."

  "Me too," I whispered, jogging alongside him to keep up.

  "The minute I'm old enough, I'm getting out of this shithole town," he vehemently vowed, tightening his hold on my hand. "And I'm never coming back."

&n
bsp; His words made me sad because I knew they were his truth.

  My best friend would leave Ocean Bay.

  And once he got a taste of freedom, away from his douchebag father, he would never come back.

  I blew out a pained breath. "Don’t leave without me, 'kay?"

  "Huh?"

  "When you leave?" I swallowed down the lump in my throat. "Promise you'll take me with you."

  His feet faltered and he turned to look down at me. "You wanna come with me, Molly-Dolly?"

  I nodded honestly.

  "Okay." A small smile traced his lips. "It's a promise."

  Little did I know it was a promise that only a few short hours later would be crushed and broken…

  Present Day

  Molly

  Lana Del Rey's Blue Jeans pumped from my headphones, drowning out the sound of my thunderous heartbeat, as I stared into my open locker after last period on Thursday afternoon and tried to get a grip.

  You've been home two freaking years, Molls.

  Today is just another mundane day in the snake-pit they call high school.

  Nobody remembers you.

  They don’t see you anymore.

  Everything's fine.

  Except that wasn’t true.

  Because I was no longer invisible.

  Because today, like every other day this week, he looked at me.

  Spoke to me.

  Acknowledged me.

  Sat with me at lunch.

  Smiled at me.

  Ugh! Get a grip, dammit!

  I could feel their eyes on my back, making my blood heat and my skin itch.

  Shy, but determined not to let their curiosity unnerve me, I continued to gaze into my locker and pretend not to notice the stares.

  I knew what my peers were all thinking, though.

  I knew all about the horrible names they called me behind my back.

  Just like that, the anxiety that gnawed at me daily quickly set in.

  Dragging in a sharp breath, I forced myself to look at the girl staring back at me. The moment my gaze drifted over my reflection in the small mirror attached to my locker door, I recoiled with a pained flinch.

  Stranger.

  Foreign.

  Monster.

  Not me.

  My breathing escalated to the point where I could feel a full-blown panic attack coming on.

  Refusing to give in to the emotions or insecurities that were battering me from the inside out, I quickly grabbed a long-sleeved, oversized cardigan from my locker and draped it over my shoulders, concealing the purplish, crinkled flesh on my arms and chest from view.

  From my view.

  Because after eight years of looking at my disfigured reflection, I still couldn't make peace with the girl staring back at me.

  Be grateful, I mentally chastised myself, you're still here.

  Mama and Bobby hadn't been so lucky.

  A freak housefire the night before my tenth birthday had robbed my father of his wife and son, robbed me of my mother and baby brother, and left me significantly disfigured.

  Neither one of us had been the same afterwards.

  Especially not my father.

  He'd lost everything eight years ago and was left with a patched-up and less than perfect version of the daughter he'd had such high hopes for.

  To this day, he was a mess, a shell of his former self, and did his best to thwart any of my attempts at being normal. I didn’t have a car and wasn't allowed to get one even though I had turned eighteen at the start of the month.

  Strict in the extreme, some of my father's rules included no drinking, partying, sleepovers, smoking, candles in my bedroom, and even though I had never had a boy vie for my affection, dating was also a big no-no.

  Dad said that he was trying to protect me, and in a way, I knew that was true. But I also knew deep down inside that he was ashamed of me. Of how I looked and of the fact that he would never raise a normal daughter.

  Returning to Ocean Bay was the very last thing he wanted to do, and we both knew it. Coming home wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me either.

  We had moved away right after the fire, specifically to be closer to the specialist doctors and burn unit dealing with my injuries. Many months spent in the hospital, not to mention countless skin grafts and surgeries, meant that I had lost contact with everyone from back home.

  Months had turned into years, and before I knew it, I was almost sixteen years old and my childhood had passed me by.

  I wanted my life back.

  I wanted to put down roots again.

  Most of all, I wanted to be closer to Mama and Bobby.

  At the time, I figured I could do all of that here in Ocean Bay.

  Fast forward a little more than two years later, and the only thing I had managed to achieve since returning to my hometown was to spend an ornate amount of time at my family's plot in the cemetery.

  At least Mama and Bobby had fresh flowers most days.

  Of all the places to let myself dwell on the fire, school was not it. I could not afford to loosen the armor I had bound tightly around my heart. Especially not when I was currently standing in the middle of the shark tank; aka The Academy.

  Ocean Bay Academy was the elite – not to mention private – high school in our equally elite and uber wealthy town of Ocean Bay, Florida.

  Unfortunately for me, my father was one of the uber wealthy, resulting in his only child being a reluctant student at OBA.

  My dislike of The Academy didn’t mean that I longed to attend one of the local public schools instead. It simply meant that I didn’t want to attend school, period. I would have much preferred to be homeschooled.

  Being back in my home town felt like punishment rather than redemption like I had hoped. During my countless stays in the hospital, I had dreamed about returning to my friends and familiarity. I had prayed for a second chance at life – another chance to go home and see my best friend again. The boy that consumed my every waking hour since as far back as I could remember.

  My dreams had made a fool of me.

  No, this year is going to be different, I reminded myself. You're not going to sit on the sidelines anymore, Molly.

  Instantly, I regretted the promise I had made to be more open and put myself out there for senior year. It was a decision I had made earlier this summer when the countless years of isolation and loneliness I had endured finally got the better of me.

  At the time, I didn’t think that I could take another year of invisibility.

  I needed someone to see me.

  Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  So far, senior year hadn't been as lonely as junior and sophomore year had been, I deduced. Since Mercedes – Mercy – James's arrival in Ocean Bay earlier in the summer, I finally had someone in this town to call a friend.

  "Fuck my life," Mercy, my recently acquainted, not to mention only friend, groaned, comically banging her head against a nearby locker, and thankfully distracting me from my tumultuous thoughts.

  Tossing my iPod inside, I quickly slammed my locker shut and turned to face my friend, unwilling to take one final glance at myself in the mirror like most teenage girls would.

  No, sir.

  I had more than enough for the day.

  "Why me, god?" Mercy continued to whimper and growl. One look at her and it was easy to tell that she was all riled up. "Why fucking me!"

  Feathers ruffled or not, the girl was beautiful. Physically, Mercedes and I couldn’t look any more different. She was the polar opposite of my skinny frame and sun-bleached, blonde, pixie cut hair.

  With glossy, black hair that reached her butt in length, curves to die for, and a fuck-the-world attitude, Mercy exuded a lazy sort of confidence.

  Forced to move here when her flaky, single mom got knocked up and hitched to the town's hotshot property developer, Mercy didn’t care about the elite in Ocean Bay, and she didn’t give a damn about notoriety.

  She couldn’t be bought or won over wi
th money and popularity and those were the personality traits that were quickly making her my favorite person in this town. She was unfazed by it all, my scars included, and I loved her for that.

  "Know of any good brain surgeons around this neck of the woods, Molls?" she asked, sliding a pair of sunglasses out of her school skirt and slipping them on. "Because I'm in dire need of a lobotomy."

  "What did he do now?" I eyed her up and down, my curiosity piqued. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why she was flustered. Fighting with her – recently acquired – stepbrother was her favorite thing to do in the world. Besides, I knew she had a double period of Biology with Ms. Black on Thursday afternoons. With her stepbrother. "I presume this outburst has something to do with Rourke?"

  "Ugh." She held up a hand and moved for the exit, with me tagging along after her. "Please don’t talk about he-who-should-have-been-swallowed." Her face turned a bright shade of pink. "Not when I've just had to endure two classes with his smug ass perched next to me."