Truth Game : Ocean Bay #3 Read online

  Truth Game

  Ocean Bay #3

  Chloe Walsh

  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. ©

  Truth Game,

  Ocean Bay #3,

  First published, June 2020.

  All rights reserved. ©

  Cover designed by Sarah Paige @ Opium House Creatives

  Edited by Aleesha Davis.

  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 son, Darragh.

  Mammy loves you, doodlebugs. xx

  Author’s Note

  Truth Game is the third installment from Ocean Bay.

  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

  1 Daryl

  I spent the weekend at my former best friend's house, during which time I proceeded to get her drunk, high, and naked.

  Yeah, I got her drunk.

  I got her high.

  I got her beneath me.

  And then I fucked her until I chased my demons away and exhaustion claimed me.

  And now? Now, I was in a face-off with said best friend's father.

  "You'll ruin her. You won't mean to, but you will. My little girl is a survivor, but she can’t deal with another blow. There's only so much one person can take," his words reverberated inside of my mind until I felt like screaming. "If you love her at all, then walk away. Go off to college next year and forget about her. For Molly's sake…"

  Jesus Christ!

  "Molly deserves to know who set the fire." The words spilled from my lips in a venomous hiss. "She deserves the truth about what happened back then, and you damn well know it!"

  "Why?" Mr. Peterson shot back. "So you can ease your conscience?"

  I stiffened. "I don't have a damn thing to feel guilty for. Not compared to you! The lies and deception are on y'all, not me. I was ten years old, dammit, I didn't do shit!"

  "Except for omitting the truth," he reminded me.

  "It's not like I had much of a choice in that," I bit out, memories flooding me to the point where I felt faint. "Y'all took my choices away from me."

  "We're all liars, Daryl," he said sadly. "But sadly, in this case, it was a lie worth telling." He blew out a pained breath before adding, "Just walk away, son."

  "I can't."

  Didn't he get that?

  Didn't anyone fucking understand?

  "I love her."

  "The boy in you loves the girl in her, but those kids are gone now," he replied. "You're not the same children you used to be, and my daughter has no place in your future."

  "Yeah? Well, plans change."

  "Not overnight they don't," he dismissed. "Keep spending time with her and you won't be able to keep your mouth shut." Another weary sigh escaped him. "Which is exactly why I didn't want to bring her back here in the first place."

  "It's not fair," I choked out, feeling at a total fucking loss.

  His eyes flickered with sympathy. "Go home, Daryl. Concentrate on football and make a good life for yourself. There's no chance of a future for you and my daughter with a secret like that hanging over your heads, and there's even less of a chance with it out in the open."

  I stood there, numb to the bone, and with my hands hanging uselessly at my sides.

  What could I say to that?

  Not a damn thing because as much as I hated to admit it, the man had spoken nothing but the truth.

  Not telling her was killing me.

  If she asked, I would cave.

  If she pushed, I would ruin her life with my truth.

  God knows I'd ruined myself with it.

  "All of the letters I wrote her when y'all first moved away…" I swallowed the lump in my throat before continuing, "She never got to read them, did she?"

  Her father shook his head slowly, confirming what I'd already guessed. "I had to protect her."

  "From me."

  "From the damage you could inflict on her."

  And that was that.

  Pain ricocheted through me.

  "I didn't get over it." A pained breath escaped me. "Her," I clarified gruffly. "I never got over her."

  "And I have no doubt that it was the same for her," he replied.

  "You don't get it," I forced the words out, shaking and reeling. "What I feel for her… how much I –" my words broke off and I blew out a pained breath. "Only her," I finally added, hopeless. "Only ever her."

  "I'm not a heartless man, Daryl," he offered, sounding pained. "I'm just a desperate father, willing to do anything to protect the only family I have left." Looking shook, he removed his glasses and wiped the rims. "I care about you too, Daryl. I always have. You were like a son to me. You have no idea how many times I wished that you never found out. How many times I wished I could've protected you from the truth, too."

  "But I did find out," I squeezed out, heart bucking wildly in my chest. "And no one protected me." No one believed me…

  "Which is why you need to help me to protect her now," he urged, voice thick with emotion. "Leave it be, Daryl. Let the past stay in the past. Walk away."

  2 Molly

  "Okay, what the hell is up with you?" Mercy demanded at the end of last period.

  "What do you mean?"

  "What do I…" She rolled her eyes. "Molls, you've been completely out of it all day. You've barely spoken ten words today."

  She was right.

  I wasn't with it today.

  I had been expecting to see Daryl at school. All day, I went about my business, attended all of my classes, ignored Britt and Ashley's cruel jibes, and ate lunch with Mercy.

  The fear, anxiety, and self-doubt that had pushed me to slip out of my bed this morning without a word felt depressingly validated now.

  Because Daryl didn't turn up at school.

  He never showed.

  Because he doesn�
��t want this.

  He doesn’t want you…

  Still, I slapped on the brightest smile I could and offered my friend nothing but the version of truth most people wanted. "Nothing's wrong." Another smile. "I'm just tired." Another lie. "That's all. I promise."

  "Bullshit." Pulling on my sleeve, she stopped me short in the school parking lot. "I'm worried here. What the hell happened to you?"

  Oh, nothing much, Mercy. It's just that last night I lost my virginity to the same boy I used to share a playpen with when we were babies. I took my clothes off for the boy who shared bubble baths with me when we were toddlers. I laid on my back for the boy who tried to kiss me on the lips when we were five and made me cry…

  I wanted to say that I majorly regretted my actions last night.

  After all, that's what any good, god-fearing girl would do.

  But that would be a lie…

  "Nothing." Hitching my bag onto my other shoulder, I continued to smile like a maniac at my best friend, hiding my insecurities with the universal sign of happiness.

  Smile and the world smiles with you.

  Mercy eyed me warily for a long moment before shaking her head. "You're a horrible liar, dude, but I won't push. Whatever's happening inside that pretty head of yours, just tell me when you're ready."

  Never gonna happen.

  I smiled brightly. "Sounds good."

  3 Molly

  After a highly anticlimactic day at school the last person I expected to be waiting for me at home was my father. But there he was, standing in the foyer, when I stepped through the front door.

  Instead of feeling the usual excitement when my eyes landed on his smiling face, my immediate thought was panic.

  Was Daryl still here?

  In my bed?

  Naked.

  Did we flush the pot?

  Did my dad know?

  Could he tell?

  Aw crap…

  "Dad," I managed to scrape out the word, though my throat was dry as cardboard. "You're home."

  "Hey, beautiful," my father replied, closing the space between us and wrapping me up in is arms. "It's good to see you, Molly-Sue."

  "You too," I croaked out, patting his back before slowly untangling myself from him. "When did you get back?"

  Please say now.

  Please god say you only got back now.

  "This morning."

  No.

  No.

  "I actually got back just in time to show your pillow pal to the door."

  Fuck.

  Oh Jesus, no!

  Let me die…

  "What happened to the house rules, Molly?"

  "It's not what you think," I strangled out, unable to hide my grimace, as I dropped my bag on the floor and scampered into the kitchen, mentally plotting a lie to get myself out of this horrifically awkward situation. "I, ah, it's actual a pretty funny story when you think about it –"

  "You're eighteen now, Molly," Dad cut in, following me into the kitchen. "I'm not happy about you having a boy sleep over, but I can hardly ground you for it, can I?"

  "Not a boy, Dad," I mumbled, pouring myself a glass of water. The boy. "Daryl."

  "Daryl," Dad repeated with a weary sigh. "So, he's back on the scene?"

  "I don't know." Shrugging, I kept my back to him and took a sip of my water. "Maybe. How long are you home for?"

  "I fly out to New York on Saturday morning. Care for my two cents worth?"

  "No." Sighing, I placed my glass in the sink. "Not really, but you might as well get it off your chest."

  "Don't be reckless with your heart."

  It was sound advice.

  A little late, but valid none the less.

  "He's a good boy, Molly, I've never denied that."

  "But?" I bit out, feeling pained.

  "He's going to play college ball, sweetheart. In a few short months, he'll be out of state and hundreds of miles of away. With a little luck, he'll be drafted into the NFL. His future is on a different path to yours."

  I winced. "So, in other words, Daryl King is going places and I'm not?"

  "Of course you're going places."

  I blew out a pained breath. "Just not with him."

  "Not with him," Dad confirmed after a long pause. "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be," I croaked out, with a shake of my head. "It's not like we're dating or anything. We literally just started hanging out again."

  "Maybe it's best if you both… stop?" he offered, tone cautious. "Prevention is better than a cure and all that…"

  "Yeah," I sighed heavily. "Maybe."

  Excusing myself from the room, I skulked up to my bedroom, needing some alone time to gather my thoughts and rebuild the chipped armor around my heart.

  Flopping down on my unmade bed, I curled up in my Daryl King scented sheets and dragged my phone out of my pocket.

  Zero missed calls.

  Zero messages.

  Zero social media notifications.

  Like the glutton for punishment I was, I clicked onto Daryl's Instagram profile. He was a senior in high school and had 9.4k followers. Over nine freaking thousand people followed this guy online compared to my measly 163 followers.

  Deciding to make myself feel predominately worse, I scrolled through his posts, the majority of which I'd already seen. Most of his posts were sports based. Quotes from his favorite athletes. Snaps of his team. Pictures of him playing football. Semi-naked images of Daryl and Rourke surfing at the beach, chilling at a team barbecue. And then, because I really hated myself, I clicked into the pictures he was tagged in.

  Girl after beautiful girl draped around him.

  Party after countless party with him surrounded by admirers.

  Tits and ass and my QB1.

  Jesus.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  No wonder he hadn't contacted me.

  Of course he regretted last night.

  His absence at school and silence all today was a sure sign of that.

  What did you expect?

  He's QB1, dummy!

  There's no place for you in his world.

  It was a pity fuck.

  Nothing more.

  4 Daryl

  After my altercation with Nick Peterson, I couldn't face school, the guys, or coach.

  I couldn't face her.

  So, instead, I did something that I had never done in the history of my existence; I skipped a weekday practice.

  Too depressed to face the world, I lay on the flat of my back, staring up at my bedroom ceiling and mulling over my tumultuous thoughts.

  Nick Peterson's words of warning were all I could think about.

  All I could feel as the weight of the world settled heavily on my shoulders.

  Battling with the devil on my shoulder, the one that told me to run far away from Molly and never look back, I tried to gather my thoughts.

  I tried to figure out where to go from here.

  Her father was right.

  As much as I hated to admit it, falling back in with his daughter was a disaster waiting to happen.

  My conscience was a ticking time bomb that would surely detonate if I spent more time with her, and going back to how it was before was out of the question.

  I got that I couldn't have her, but I couldn't walk away, either.

  Fuck!

  I knew what I had to do and I hated myself for it.

  I seriously fucking hated myself in this moment.

  A soft knock filled my ears moments before my bedroom swung inwards. "What are you doing in bed, Daryl?"

  Like you give a shit. "Thinking."

  "Don't you have practice?"

  Again, like you give a shit.

  "Not today, Mama."

  Mom stepped further into my room, armed with a basket of clean laundry. His laundry. "What's wrong?"

  "Not a damn thing."

  "Are you sick?"

  "Nope," I deadpanned. "Healthy as a horse."

  "Then why aren't you at scho
ol or practice?" Her tone was harder now and laced with concern. "You know Wren won't be happy if he finds out you've been skipping class –"

  "Like I give a damn what Wren thinks," I sneered, jerking off my bed. "Jesus."

  "I don't appreciate your tone, Daryl."

  "And I don't appreciate your husband's bullshit," I shot back, reaching for my wallet and keys. "Screw it. I'm out of here."

  "And where exactly are you going?"

  "Away," I called over my shoulder. "That's what everyone in this house wants, right, Mama?"

  "Don’t be so dramatic – hey, we're not done talking, young man," she snapped, following after me. "Where were you this weekend?"

  Knowing that I could never in a million years give her an honest answer, I continued down the staircase, needing to escape the four walls closing in on me.

  "Daryl," she pressed, unwilling to let it go. "Where were you? You didn’t come home and you didn’t call."

  "If I recollect correctly, you didn’t call me either, Mama."

  "Were you at Rourke's house?" she asked, stepping around me and blocking my exit – aka the front door. "Well?"

  "Where else would I have been?" I deadpanned, unwilling to meet her eye.

  "I don’t know, Daryl, that's why I'm asking," she sighed wearily. "You never tell me anything about your life anymore."

  "Can you blame me?"

  "Daryl." A pained sigh escaped her pursed lips. "I'm still your mother."

  "Yeah," I muttered under my breath, feeling like a prick. "I know."

  "Then please act like it." Taking my hand, she tugged me into the kitchen. "I'm the only mother you'll ever have."

  Reluctantly, I let her lead me to the table and push me down on a chair. Our relationship was beyond fractured, but she was still my mother, and brushing her off wasn’t something I had managed to master yet. Wren? Abso-fucking-lutely. But her? The woman that gave me life? Not so much.