I’ll Always Be With You (Lancaster Prep Book 4)

I’M A SELFISH PRICK.

I didn’t tell Carolina I’m leaving Lancaster Prep at winter break and not coming back. I don’t know how to tell her. I’m also afraid she would’ve said no to my asking her to be my girlfriend if I’d confessed I wasn’t going to be around much longer.

I wouldn’t have blamed her either. What’s the point in us doing this if I’m leaving in a couple of months?

This is why I’m a selfish prick. I did it for me. I did it because I need her support. I want to keep her around. There’s something about her that I’m drawn to, something that I can’t quite put my finger on, but it’s there nonetheless. Reminding me that she makes me smile, she makes me laugh, when no one else in this entire fucking world does that.

Only her.

It’s been a week since that fateful night at the restaurant. Since TJ’s birthday dinner and Carolina got into that argument with her mother. When she got into somewhat of an argument with me.

Our coming out publicly as a couple has been slow, and I haven’t pushed for anything because I don’t think it’s necessary. Let people come to their own conclusions when they see us together. It’s fairly obvious, what’s going on.

We walk together to almost every class, even if I have to sprint across campus to get to my own classroom before the bell rings. We sit together at lunch with Brent and Sadie, using them as sort of a shield. So far, it’s working. Even Mercedes has mostly left us alone, though I’d guess she’s slowly dying inside.

She wanted her chance with me and she blew it. Hell, she never really had one. I was never that into her.

Not like I’m into Carolina.

She’s been keeping me at arm’s length since we’ve started this relationship-type thing though, and I’m trying to be patient, but she’s testing me. And I think she realizes it too.

I also think she gets off on it. Creating distance between us. Putting on a little show for me, waving that invisible sign that says, look but don’t touch.

I can only take so much.

It’s near the end of fifth period when I get a call from my mother, my phone ringing right in the middle of class. The teacher frowns mid-lecture, and I immediately turn off the ringer, trying to ignore it. But she calls again. And when I still don’t pick up that time, there’s yet another call.

“It’s my mother,” I tell him when he can blatantly see the flashing screen of my phone as it sits on my desk.

He inclines his head toward the door. “Go ahead and take it.”

I hurriedly exit the class and call her back once I’m in the hallway. She answers on the first ring.

“It’s your father,” she blurts before I can even say anything. “He’s not doing well. They just admitted him into the hospital.”

I grip the phone tightly, staring out the window as I stand in the empty corridor of the school. “What happened?”

“He passed out. I found him in the living room, collapsed on the ground and unresponsive. I called 911.” She starts to cry and I grimace, wishing I was anywhere else but here. Listening to her. Knowing this might be the end for my father. “I don’t know what to do without him, Weston. What are we going to do?”

She’s wailing. And I almost end the call on her mid-cry because this is way too heavy for me to take.

Instead, I inhale deeply and start asking her a series of questions, all of them having to do with my father’s condition.

“The doctor’s here. Let me call you back.” She’s gone in an instant and I start pacing the hall, gripping the back of my neck, hating how fucking anxious I feel.

If she needs me to come back now and be with him, I’ll do it, but fuck. I only got a week with Carolina? I know the moment I go to Napa, I won’t be coming back. Not to Lancaster Prep. Maybe not even to the East Coast—at least for a while.

And what’s going to make Carolina want to come and see me? I’ll be wrapped up in paperwork and trying to figure out my new place at a fucking business that has been run by a middle-aged man with over thirty years of experience. What the hell do I know about champagne besides that what we create is some of the best out there?

I know nothing. I’m a kid. It doesn’t matter how we feel while we’re here, my friends and me. Like we’re the big men on campus. The seniors who rule the school. It’s bullshit.

We’re babies. We don’t know what the hell we’re doing.

Within minutes, my phone rings, and I answer it without checking who it is, relieved to hear my mother’s not as frantic voice in my ear.

“Your father is going to be okay. They just diagnosed him with pneumonia. They put him on antibiotics and said he should be feeling better within the next few days.”

“Pneumonia? How did he get that?” It’s not even cold season yet, especially in California.

“I’m not sure. His immune system isn’t in the best shape. He’s susceptible to all sorts of things lately.” Her voice lowers. “I do wish he would’ve done chemo, but he was insistent on taking the holistic approach.”

I remember that my mother believes my father is in remission, and thank Christ I didn’t say anything different. “He’s going to be okay then.”

“Yes. They’re keeping him in the hospital overnight for observation. They’ll most likely release him tomorrow.” She releases a shuddery breath. “Unless something else happens.”

I swallow hard and ask, “Do you need me to come out there? I can book a plane the second I get off this call.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I press my forehead against the cool glass window, closing my eyes. Praying she says no.

“I’ll be all right,” she finally says. “Your father mentioned you’d most likely stay there for Thanksgiving.”

He did?

“But you’ll come home for Christmas though, right, sweetheart?”

I crack my eyes open, pushing away from the window. “Of course.”

“I’m glad, darling. We miss having you around.”

Her words infuriate me. They didn’t miss me enough to stick around when I started high school here at Lancaster Prep. The moment they got their opportunity to go to Napa, they left. Who cares if their son was across the country attending boarding school?

Business comes first.

With the Fontaines, business always comes first.

You’d think being their only child would give me some sort of prestige—or a reason for them to want to make sure I’m okay, but it never does. Most of the time I feel like an afterthought.

Until they need me for something.

Emotional support for my mom. Taking over the biz for dear old dad.

The bell rings, and within seconds, the hallway is flooded with students eager to head to lunch. I move in the opposite direction of most of them, needing to go back to my classroom to get my stuff where I left it at my desk, when I spot Carolina making her way toward me.

“Where are you going?” Her expression is the friendliest I think I’ve ever seen her, and it’s kind of mind-blowing for a moment. This girl takes her scowls seriously.

“I left my stuff in the classroom.” I take her hand and start dragging her along with me. “Come on.”

She doesn’t say a word but at least she doesn’t try to pull her hand out of mine like she used to. She follows me into the classroom, my teacher just about to leave when we meet him in the doorway.

“I left my stuff in here,” I tell him.

He nods, flicking off the lights, the room going dark. “Grab it and go. The door will lock behind you on your way out.”

He sends us a stern look and then he’s gone.

Carolina turns to face me, her brows drawn together. “Are you okay?”

I think about blowing her off and acting like everything is fine, but it’s like I can’t. “No.”

Her frown deepens. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad.” I blow out a harsh breath, glancing toward the closed door. “He’s sick. At the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s got cancer. He’s dying. But I can’t tell her that. I promised my father I’d keep it a secret. “Pneumonia. He’s being treated and my mom just called me. He’s staying overnight at the hospital, but he’s going to be all right.”

For now.

I lean against the teacher’s desk, my butt resting on the edge and Carolina takes a step forward, touching my cheek lightly with her fingertips, her gaze meeting mine. So much concern swirls in the depths of her blue eyes, and when she cups my cheek, I lean into her palm, closing my eyes for a brief moment.

“You’re scaring me,” she whispers.

I crack open my eyes, offering her a wan smile. “It’s okay. I’m just—worried. About my father. And my mother. I’m all they’ve got. The only child. Sometimes, it feels like a lot of pressure.”

She stares at me, her fingers sliding down my face before they drift back up, pressing against my cheekbone. “Is everything all right? You’ve been acting different lately and I can’t help but wonder if it might be because of … us.”

“No, not at all,” I say immediately. “It has nothing to do with you.”

Her expression turns knowing. “So there is something else going on. What is it? You can tell me.”

The truth is on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill all over the place, but I press my lips together to stifle the words. I can’t tell her. Once I open my mouth, I won’t be able to stop and then what’s really going on with my family, my father’s health, will be out there, and I won’t be able to take it back. It could turn into public knowledge and my father would be furious.

It’s not that I don’t trust Carolina. I just don’t know her well enough. My father reiterated to me how his health affects everything with the House of Fontaine. He’s reassured board members and staff that he’s in remission, which isn’t fucking true.

My father is a liar. And he’s made me become one too.

I hate that.

Instead of telling Carolina the truth, I lean in, slipping my arm around her waist at the same time I press my mouth to hers. Distracting her with a kiss, which is a distraction for me too. This feels like the first time we’ve been alone together in a while, and my need for her has been building. Rising within me and now that I’ve got her in my arms, I don’t want to let her go.

Not yet.

She opens to me easily, her tongue tangling with mine, a soft sigh leaving her. The sound goes straight to my dick, making it ache, and I wrap both of my arms around her, hauling her into me so she can feel it.

Feel me.

“West.” She rests her hand against my chest, pulling away from my still seeking lips. “We can’t do this in here.”

“We’re fine. No one knows we’re here.” I try to kiss her again, but she dodges to the side and I end up planting my lips on her throat.

“West, we probably shouldn’t …”

I feel her shiver when I race my mouth down her neck, licking at the spot where her pulse pounds. “It’s okay.”

I kiss her again before she can say anything else and she sinks into my lips, her tongue meeting mine, her arms winding around my neck. I can hear people walk by the closed door in the hallway, the low hum of their conversation drawing closer before it eventually drifts away. It happens over and over again, to the point that I choose to ignore it, confident that no one will bust in on us.

We won’t be discovered, which only emboldens me.

Slowly, I slip my hand beneath her skirt, drifting my fingers along the back of her firm thigh. She shudders at my first touch, a whimper sounding low in her throat as I memorize her warm, soft skin with my fingertips. I trace the curve of her ass before sliding my fingers up, funneling beneath the thin cotton of her panties.

“West.” My name is a harsh whisper against my lips when I palm her ass cheek. “We can’t—”

“We can.” I thrust my tongue in her mouth at the same time I slip my fingers inside her from behind, encountering nothing but wet heat. I pull away from her so I can see her flushed face. “You like it.”

She doesn’t disagree. She even spreads her legs a little wider, giving me better access as I essentially finger-fuck her in the middle of the empty classroom, while all of our friends are in the dining hall, no doubt wondering where we are.

“Oh.” She moans when I push extra deep, her hands moving to my shoulders, where she grips me tightly. I nip at her plump lower lip, adding another finger in the mix, stretching her wide. “I think—”

“Don’t think,” I murmur against her lips, increasing my pace. “Just come for me.”

There’s no more talking. Just the sound of our accelerated breaths, my fingers moving inside her cunt, the shuffle of her feet as she tries to remain standing. I tug her closer, making it easier for me to reach her pussy from behind, and she nudges her hips against mine, as if she’s trying to create friction.

My dick threatens to burst out of my trousers, it’s so hard. Doesn’t help that she’s rubbing herself against me, her breaths coming quicker, soft whimpers sounding in the back of her throat. I stretch out her panties with my hand, my fingers as deep inside her as I can get them, and a choked sound comes from her, followed by my name.

She’s coming. Pulling her face away from mine, my eyes pop open just in time to catch her staring at me with wonder. Her eyes close, her head falling back, exposing that long, graceful line of her throat, and I bend my head, planting little kisses there while she rides her orgasm out on my hand.

When it’s over, I let my hands fall away from her as she steps back, brushing the hair out of her face with shaky fingers. Her cheeks are pink, as is her neck, and I’d bet big money she’s flushed like that everywhere.

“That was crazy,” she says once she seems to have found her voice again.

I smile at her. “It’s like every time I make you come, we’re doing something crazy.”

“It’s all your fault then.”

“Nah, I think it’s all you.” I bring my fingers to my mouth, the undeniable scent of her pussy still clinging to my skin. I breathe in deep, just before I wrap my lips around them and suck every last bit of her into my mouth. “You taste good. Next time, I think I’ll bend you over a desk and go down on you from behind.”

Somehow her cheeks get even pinker, and I realize something.

She’s just the distraction I need.