Keeper, page 1
KEEPER
NICOLE DYKES
CONTENTS
Playlist
1. Camden
2. Kingston
3. Camden
4. Kingston
5. Camden
6. Kingston
7. Camden
8. Camden
9. Kingston
10. Camden
11. Kingston
12. Camden
13. Kingston
14. Camden
15. Kingston
16. Camden
17. Kingston
18. Camden
19. Kingston
20. Camden
21. Kingston
22. Camden
23. Kingston
24. Camden
25. Kingston
26. Camden
27. Camden
28. Kingston
29. Camden
30. Camden
31. Kingston
32. Camden
33. Kingston
34. Camden
35. Camden
36. Kingston
37. Camden
38. Kingston
39. Camden
40. Kingston
41. Camden
42. Kingston
43. Camden
Epilogue
Note from the author
Stalker Links
Hostile
Chapter 1
All of my MM Books
Want more?
Small town, or big, it doesn’t matter. Love is love. Hate is gross and you can be anything you want. Always. Don’t forget it no matter where you go.
PLAYLIST
Something in the Orange
Zach Bryan
Dreams - Acoustic
Andie Case
half of my hometown (feat. Kenny Chesney)
Kelsea Ballerini
Something Just Like This
The Chainsmokers, Coldplay
Love Me Anyway
P!nk (feat. Chris Stapleton)
Sleep On The Floor
The Lumineers
Broken Halos
Chris Stapleton
Cold
Chris Stapleton
Awake My Soul
Mumford and Sons
Rivers and Roads
The Head and The Heart
Ride the Lightning (717 Tapes)
Warren Zeiders
When The Stars Come Out
Chris Stapleton
Home
Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Stubborn Love
The Lumineers
ONE
CAMDEN
“Come on, Wells,” I shout as the football spirals through the night sky toward my best friend. Players clash everywhere on the field, and the crowd is loud as hell, but all I see is Kingston Wells. My best friend, the team’s tight end and number thirty-two out on the field.
When he catches it, he doesn’t hesitate. He runs. He’s fast, incredibly fast. And no one can catch him. I know it. He knows it. The crowd knows it as they chant his last name, and he runs it in for the final touchdown, just in time to claim the win.
Garrison Dixon, number twenty-four, wastes no time hoisting me up in the air to celebrate our big win, shouting over the crowd while I tap on his helmet, telling the big dummy to put me down. But he doesn’t.
We’re all on a high.
I see Kingston running toward us, his red helmet in hand. When he shoves Dixon playfully, that’s when my feet finally touch the field below. Then Kingston’s big-ass arms are wrapped around me as we all jump up and down, surrounded by the rest of the school, who’ve rushed the football field to congratulate us.
Hell, the entire damn town is around us, chanting our names and our school. Taunting the other team who just lost, because they’re our biggest rivals. The Big Bend Bears. Eat it, suckers. We won this round.
“We’re the Kensley Panthers. Mighty, mighty, panthers,” the cheerleaders chant, loud and proud. In western Kansas—literally in the middle of nowhere—this is what we do on Friday nights.
The whole town shuts down until after the game, and then we party. It’s all there is to do in this town of nine hundred people. And maybe some days, I can barely stand it, but nights like tonight, I ride the high and bask in the cheers of the crowd. Watching the smile on my best friend’s face, I try my best to enjoy it. To let go of all my responsibilities, if only for the moment.
Kingston says this is the best time of our lives. Me? I’m not so sure about that. I don’t want to really believe that, but as I look around at the middle-aged men wearing their old high-school football rings—some of them state championship rings—I think maybe he could be right. Because they’re all stuck in that time.
Will that be Kingston and me someday?
Maybe.
And while that’s a comforting thought to Kingston, it’s a terrifying one for me.
This can’t be all we are.
We all shower and change after the game. Kingston and I are the last to head out of the locker-room. His arm drapes over my shoulder. “Hell of a game, QB.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t hold back the smile on my face. “Don’t call me that. We’ve known each other since we were four. It’s weird.”
“Aw, you’ll always be my quarterback though.” I roll my eyes again, but he only chuckles, a happy laugh falling from his lips. “Fine, Prescott. Where are we celebrating tonight?”
I guess using my last name is better than fucking QB. I don’t want to just be the high-school quarterback. I never have. But apparently, the one thing my deadbeat dad gave me before disappearing right after my seventh birthday was one hell of a throwing arm. “I can’t. Mom picked up an extra shift at the tavern. I gotta watch Lucy.”
My mom had Lucy almost five years ago, when I was thirteen. And even though we don’t share the same dad, that kid means everything to me. Blonde hair and blue eyes, she must have gotten from her dad because my mom and I both have brown hair and green eyes. But Lucy is the happiest kid ever.
Don’t know where she got that either.
Kingston seems to be thinking that over for a moment—thinking too hard, if you ask me—and he shrugs. “Okay. Sounds good. Let’s go party with little Lucy. I’m here for it. That kid is funny as hell.”
I shove him off me, pulling the keys to my beat-up old truck out of my jeans pocket. “You don’t need to hang out with a four-year-old after we just won that game. She’s probably already in bed, anyway. Go party. Tell me about it tomorrow, and don’t do anything stupid.”
“First of all, she’s almost five. She wants a princess party, by the way.” He grabs his own keys, heading for his obnoxious early 70’s Mustang that’s parked next to my truck. “Second, I miss Luce. I gotta go say hi. I am her favorite, after all.”
Isn’t that the truth?
I don’t know why my sister is so in love with him—okay, maybe that’s a lie—but it still stings when I’m usually the one taking care of her when we aren’t in school. Mom works a lot to make up for being a single mom, and I don’t mind picking up the slack. Like I said, Lucy is a cool kid. It’s fine. It’s completely fine.
“Kennedy is going to be pissed off if you don’t party with her tonight.” I say, pulling open the heavy door to my truck.
He waves that off like I knew he would. “Nah. She’s probably already halfway through a bottle of Jack. She’ll be fine.”
My brow furrows, looking at him over the top of my truck. “You don’t care that your girlfriend is getting drunk around a bunch of horny football players on a high from a win, and probably other shit?”
He runs his hand through his still-damp dark-brown hair and just laughs like he always does. His blue eyes sparkle with laughter because Kingston Wells is a happy guy—he can’t help it. Nothing is really serious to Kingston. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”
He’s not wrong. Kennedy Reeves is head cheerleader, blond, gorgeous, and the girl who punched Oakley Easton in seventh grade for grabbing her ass when we were all playing around out at the lake. She’s a badass, all right. She’s been Kingston Wells’s girlfriend for two years now. They’re the It couple in school. And she’s one of my best friends too. “Yeah, no doubt. Though, it should still probably bug you.”
“Let’s go.” He doesn’t spend any more time talking about it, and instead of arguing with him like I probably should, we drive to my house to send my mom off to work and watch Lucy.
Like I assumed, Lucy’s already in bed. Mom gave her a snack and a drink of water before tucking her in, so she’ll probably be out for the night. Mom gives Kingston and me each a kiss on the cheek before rushing out, and we hang out on the couch, eating popcorn and absently watching whatever is on TV while reliving the game, play-by-play.
This is my typical Friday night.
And honestly, I wouldn’t change it.
Not yet, anyway.
TWO
KINGSTON
Kennedy’s finger trails under my t-shirt, her long painted fingernail dragging over every ridge of hard-earned muscle. “You missed a hell of a party last night. It was epic.”
I try not to roll my eyes at Kennedy’s description of what was probably a field party in the middle of nowhere, with a bonfire in the middle and lots and lots of alcohol. Don’t get me wrong. That’s a good time, and I’m all about the good times, but it would have been shit without Camden there too. “Eh, I had a pretty good time. Scream was on television last night, and Camden’s mom got the extra butter popcorn. So, it was pretty damn epic too.”
“You think Camden will go to college?” I sit up straight at my girlfriend’s question, which came out of nowhere. I stare daggers at her. Why the hell would she ask that?
“Why would he?”
She sits up on her bed, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Why wouldn’t he? He’s way too smart not to. He’s probably going to change the whole damn world, Kingston.”
I’m glaring at her, suddenly regretting coming over to her house after I left Cam’s this evening. But he had to go to work, and his mom was awake and could watch Lucy. She sleeps in after working the night shift, and I wasn’t kidding about enjoying hanging out with the kid. I should have just gone home, but I didn’t feel like it yet. Now it’s pushing midnight, and I’m pretty irritated with my girlfriend. “He’s not leaving Kensley. He loves it here.”
She narrows her eyes at me—eyes I usually think are pretty but are annoying me at the moment. “If you say so.” She moves toward me, prowling like a cat in heat, her hand dragging over the front of my shirt. “I don’t really want to talk about Camden, anyway.” She bites on her bottom lip. “You know my mom is going to get home soon and kick you out, so we should probably find something to do until then. Something fun.”
We spent most of tonight hanging out with her little brothers. Kennedy’s life is really similar to Camden’s. Her mom is a single mom who works at the local distribution plant. She has two little brothers, but they mostly just bug her.
She resents the hell out of her mom and maybe her younger brothers too, which is the total opposite of Camden. I smile to myself, thinking about my best friend, who takes everything in stride. He didn’t ask his mom to get knocked up, but he just rolls with it. He loves Lucy like crazy, and he watches her without complaint.
All Kennedy ever does is complain.
Maybe that’s not fair. I don’t have any younger siblings, and my parents are still married—happily in love after nineteen years of marriage. They tell me this all the time. It’s kind of gross but also kind of awesome.
I take her hand gently but move it off my zipper where it landed. “I should go before she gets home. Don’t want her to worry about what we’ve been doing in here.”
Her eyelashes flutter in annoyance. “Yeah, she literally has nothing to worry about. You never want to do it anymore.”
I cringe at her calling me out, but I can’t argue with her. I mean, sex is awesome. I like it fine, but I don’t 100 percent get what all the fuss is about. We did it for the first time at the end of our sophomore year. Although, it kind of felt like that was just what was expected—high-school football star and head cheerleader. But I don’t know. It was good, and it’s been good every time since then. It’s just not something I have to do every time we see each other.
“I’m just not in the mood.”
“You’re never in the mood,” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against her headboard. Great, I think we’re fighting. Again.
I swear it’s all we ever do.
Maybe that’s why I’m never in the fucking mood. It’s always fighting with her. It’s never easy. And now we’re fighting about fucking. This is just great.
“I gotta go.” I climb off her bed and find my black Kensley Panthers jersey, pulling it over my head.
“Fine. Whatever.”
I don’t even bother trying to offer her a kiss goodbye or giving her any words. There’s no point. Once Kennedy is pissed off, she’s pissed off for a while. What the fuck ever.
I fist-bump one of her little brothers on the way out and then head to my car, climbing behind the wheel and starting the engine I love so damn much. It’s loud, probably a little too loud, but everyone in the town knows my car.
They wave when I drive by. There goes Kingston Wells, tight end for the Kensley Panthers. Total badass. I know that’s what they think.
And it’s a great part of my life. I love it. I love everything about high school. I park in front of Camden’s house, which is only a couple of blocks from my own, and kill the engine.
I especially love my best friend.
Kennedy is wrong. There’s no way he’d leave this town behind. I know he’s Mr. Responsible, always taking care of everything, but he loves it here as much as I do. I saw the look in his eyes right before he passed that ball downfield. I felt the energy and the love of the game—not just the game, but also the town—crackling through the air just before I caught it.
Yeah, Kennedy is crazy.
I climb out of my car and head toward Camden’s window. It’s really late, and I see his mom’s car in the driveway. If she’s asleep, I don’t want to wake her up. I knock softly on his window and wait.
Moments later, my cranky best friend appears, lifting the window and scowling at me—his light brown hair mussed, like he was probably sleeping, and a crease in his brow. “What the hell, Wells?”
I chuckle because even though he’s a cantankerous bastard, he still uses my last name with affection. “Let me in.”
“You’re going to wake Lucy or my mom.”
“Not if you don’t put up a fight. Let me in. It’s cold as balls out here.” His eyes roll, like they often do at me, but then he backs away from the window with a sigh to let me climb in. When I stand up before him, I see he’s shirtless and only wearing a pair of black boxer briefs, which he always wears to bed. “Sleeping?”
“I didn’t get off work until ten-thirty. What do you think?” He picks up odd jobs around town to help his mom out with money, and lately he’s been working at the local grocery store.
“I think the store closes at ten. Every night.”
He rolls his eyes again, flicking on the side lamp on his nightstand and lying down on his bed, clearly beat. “Helped stock shelves for a bit. What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were with Kenn.”
“Yeah, we kinda got into it.” I take a seat on the edge of his bed, and he snorts.
“Shocking.”
I raise my middle finger as I pull my hoodie off over my head and toss it onto his desk chair. “You going to college?” I blurt out the question that’s plaguing me.
His green eyes narrow in my direction, full of confusion. “I applied to some places, sure. I don’t know if I’ll get in, but my grades are decent.”
Decent, hell. He’s a straight-A student and always has been. “Really?” I ask, the hurt soaking through me, and I don’t even know why or if I have the right to feel that way at all.
“You haven’t?” He looks shocked.
“What about my C-average record would tell you I’d be cut out for college?”
He shrugs, pulling his covers up as he sits up to look at me better. “I thought maybe a football scholarship or something. You could do it.”
“I don’t want to,” I answer quickly because I don’t. College has never even crossed my mind. My parents don’t talk about it. My teachers don’t. And Camden and I never have either.
“Okay . . .” He still looks confused, and my heart squeezes tight in my chest at the thought of him leaving.
“Why would you want to go to college, Cam?”
He shrugs like he’s embarrassed, and then there’s a heavy sigh. “To see what’s out there? To get the hell out of Kensley.”
“Why would you want to leave Kensley?” No, no, no. Kennedy can’t be right about this. He can’t want to leave our town.
