Charity: Black Mountain Academy/Fortuity Read online

  Charity

  Black Mountain Academy/Fortuity

  Rochelle Paige

  Contents

  Charity

  Prologue

  1. Emmeline

  2. Corby

  3. Emmeline

  4. Corby

  5. Emmeline

  6. Corby

  7. Emmeline

  8. Corby

  9. Emmeline

  10. Corby

  11. Emmeline

  12. Corby

  13. Emmeline

  14. Corby

  15. Emmeline

  16. Corby

  17. Emmeline

  18. Corby

  19. Emmeline

  Epilogue

  Also by Rochelle Paige

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Rochelle Paige

  Edited by Editing4Indies

  Cover designed by Lori Jackson

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Charity

  Corby King’s skill on the ice was the only reason he ended up switching schools his senior year. He was being scouted by pro hockey teams, and his new foster dad thought Corby was the key to the Cougars winning a state championship.

  Cutting through red tape was easy when you had money to burn, but Corby didn’t complain. Playing for his rival team was a small price to pay for a better chance at a full-ride to college.

  What Corby didn’t expect was to meet someone he’d grow to love as much as hockey. Emmeline Cushing grew up in a different world than him, but Corby was determined to claim the shy girl who stole his heart.

  Prologue

  Corby

  Accepting charity didn’t come easy to me, but I had swallowed down my pride over the past four years in order to keep my passion in my life—hockey. Between ice time and equipment, I wouldn’t have been able to keep playing without accepting help from the league I’d been a part of since I was only five years old. After my mom died and I was tossed into the foster system, I felt as though hockey was the only thing I had left from my old life. Without the carpooling parents of teammates I’d played with for years, the hand-me-down equipment, and the league letting me pay off my dues by helping out around the rink, I probably wouldn’t have been able to step on the ice again. But I never expected hockey to lead me to the opportunity that dropped into my lap out of nowhere.

  “Where am I going exactly?” I waited for Mrs. Carrington to explain what the hell was going on. When I’d last talked to my social worker a week ago, she hadn’t said anything about a new foster family placement. It wasn’t unusual for my living situation to change without much notice, so I hadn't been surprised when she’d called me to tell me to pack up my stuff, but the car that had pulled up behind hers wasn’t what I expected a foster parent to drive. A Bentley Continental GT cost about twice as much as the three-bedroom house that was my current foster home.

  Mrs. Carrington’s gaze darted toward the street for a moment, and she twisted her hands together. “The Whitneys live in Black Mountain.”

  I wasn’t sure why my normally confident social worker was acting nervous, but her mood was starting to rub off on me. Either that, or it was the idea of me living in the wealthiest town in the area. Black Mountain was only a twenty-minute bus ride away from Devil Valley, but it might as well be worlds apart for how different they were. “Are they do-gooders who can’t have kids or something?”

  “Ah, not exactly.” She heaved a deep sigh and gave another furtive glance at the Bentley before stepping closer. “They’re major donors at Black Mountain Academy and seriously into hockey.”

  My head reared back as though I’d been hit. “Do they have any other foster kids?”

  “No, you’ll be the first.” She lowered her voice as she admitted, “I’m fairly certain the Whitneys cut through a lot of red tape to get their application fast-tracked and have you transferred into their care.”

  “Let me get this straight.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “These people want me to play for Black Mountain Academy so badly that they’re moving me into their house to make it happen?”

  Mrs. Carrington threw her hands up in the air. “I know how ridiculous it sounds, but yes. My impression is that’s why they’ve been pushing so hard for this.”

  “They know this is my senior year, right? That seems like a lot of effort to go to for me to play just one season for the Cougars.” I wasn’t humble about my skills on the ice, but the idea of someone going to all this effort to get me to switch teams for a year blew my mind. The amount of work they’d put into this plan was flattering as fuck.

  “Yes, they’re definitely aware of your age,” she confirmed with a nod. “Since I’ve worked your case since you first came into the foster care system, I have the final say in your living arrangements. You’ve been happy here, and I was hesitant to move you right before your last year of high school. I had one stipulation before I would agree to all of this—the Whitneys had to agree to keep you in their home until you leave for college in the fall. They also offered to set aside the monthly reimbursement they’ll receive from the state and give the funds to you after graduation. They’ll cover any expenses you have while you’re living with them.”

  I wasn’t worried about paying for college—I planned to sign my letter of intent with one of the schools that had already verbally offered me a full ride as soon as the first window opened in early November. I had plenty of calls from interested recruiters when they were first allowed to contact me as a sophomore, and the number of interested schools only went up during the recruiting window last year. I hadn’t been able to do many official visits because I had to foot the bill for those so I wouldn’t violate NCAA rules, but that hadn’t stopped several coaches from making verbal offers. I hadn’t bothered to accept any of them since nothing was in place to hold them to it.

  My plans for the time between my eighteenth birthday and when I was able to move onto campus were still up in the air. There was no way in hell I would pass up the opportunity to crash in a mansion for more than a year and have a bunch of money waiting for me at the end of the school year. “Count me in.”

  “Thank goodness.” Mrs. Carrington patted my shoulder. “I wasn’t looking forward to going up against the Whitneys if you didn’t like the plan.”

  I had no doubt she would’ve done it anyway because she had gone to bat for me several times over the past four years. I’d been damn lucky when my case was assigned to Mrs. Carrington because I’d heard plenty of horror stories from other foster kids about how shitty their social workers were. “Did you really think I wouldn’t be okay with this?”

  She gestured toward my hockey bag and stick. “I wasn’t certain how you’d feel about leaving your friends behind and playing for a different team this year.”

  “It is what it is.” I shrugged. “And the guys get that I’m not in control of my life until I turn eighteen. They’ll understand why I’m playing for the Cougars instead of the Blue Devils.”

  “They better,” she grumbled with a frown. “If one of their parents had been willing to take you in, then you would’ve been in the same place for the past four years, and nobody from my office would’ve been in favor of moving you now.”

  This wasn’t the first time Mrs. Carrington had expressed her frustration over the fact that I’d only been able to stay with one of my friends for two weeks after my mom’s funeral. I’d bee
n pissed about it at first too, but I’d eventually gotten over my disappointment. My friends’ parents still helped me out a lot even though none of them felt as though they could take me in for the long haul. Flashing her a grin, I lifted my hockey bag and flung it over my shoulder. “But then I wouldn’t be riding in a Bentley to the mansion I’ll be calling home, and that’d be a damn shame.”

  “Language.” Her answering smile let me know that she was correcting me because she was supposed to and not because my language actually bugged her.

  I grabbed my stick and hoped it fit inside the Bentley. The rest of my shit was in my backpack and a suitcase, and I didn’t want to make another trip back to Devil Valley if I didn’t have to. “Sorry.”

  “Would you like some help?” Looking over my shoulder, I saw the guy who’d been behind the wheel of the Bentley had gotten out and was rounding the front of the vehicle.

  “Sure, man. That’d be great.” I picked up my backpack and let him grab the suitcase. Mrs. Carrington followed us to the back of the car and watched while we figured out how to get all three of my bags to fit in the trunk and my stick into the back seat. Once that was done, I turned to my social worker and smiled. “Thanks for all the help.”

  “I figured I’d just get in the way since you seemed to have it under control.” She shrugged and handed some paperwork to Mr. Whitney. “Expect to see me sometime this week.”

  Mr. Whitney inclined his head. “You should have my number to make arrangements for a good time to stop by.”

  “That’s not how this works, Mr. Whitney.” Mrs. Carrington crossed her arms and frowned. “This move is a disruption to Corby’s life during a pivotal year for him. I’d prefer the transparency a drop-in visit allows for this first visit. It will be helpful in determining how well he’s settling into your home.”

  I stifled a grin at my social worker—who was only a couple of inches over five feet—facing off against a man who had a good ten inches on her and wore a watch that probably cost more than she earned in an entire year. Luckily, Mr. Whitney wasn’t a dick about it and didn’t try to throw his weight around. Then I would’ve had to step in, and it would have sucked to piss him off before I’d even gotten into his sweet ride.

  “Feel free to drop in for a surprise visit whenever you’d like,” he agreed with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure you’ll be more than satisfied with the arrangements we’ve made for Corby.”

  I waited until Mrs. Carrington nodded before I flashed her a grin. “Thanks for looking out for me, Mrs. C.”

  “As always, it’s my pleasure.” She patted me on the back. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to let the new digs go to your head too much.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” I teased with a wink.

  She shook her head and laughed as she turned and walked to her car. I climbed into the passenger seat of the Bentley, letting out a low whistle over how lush the interior was with its quilted detailing on the seats and lighting strips that matched the exterior color.

  “You like it?” Mr. Whitney asked, pressing the button to start the engine.

  “What’s not to like?” I jerked a thumb toward the back seat. “Although I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t bring anyone else with you to pick me up. I’m not sure how comfortable I would’ve been during the drive if I’d had to squeeze myself in back there.”

  “I probably should’ve brought the Range Rover instead, but I didn’t think about the logistics of picking you up before I left for the office this morning.”

  A few of my hockey friends’ parents made a lot of money, but nobody was at the level where they could casually talk about their high-end SUV while driving their luxury vehicle. At our rink, a Lexus was high-end. “Thanks for coming to get me. Mrs. C usually drives me when there’s a change-up in foster homes, but I doubt she has any other kids placed with families all the way in Black Mountain.”

  “You’re welcome.” His gaze slid from the road to me for a moment. “You seem to get along well with Mrs. Carrington.”

  “Yeah, it took me a while to realize she’s pretty cool.” I shook my head and laughed softly. “I was angry with the world when I was first placed in foster care. I took some of that out on her, but she’s never held it over my head.”

  “What you’ve accomplished on your own these past four years is quite a feat. A lot of kids would’ve given up on hockey when faced with the kind of stumbling blocks you didn’t let stop you. Your dedication to the sport is impressive.”

  His compliment wasn’t anything I hadn’t heard before, but since he was taking me into his home, I decided to give him more honesty than I did when speaking with college coaches. “Giving up on hockey wasn’t an option. I needed it to get through everything that happened when I was thirteen. Being on the ice saved me.”

  He nodded as though he understood what I meant. “That makes sense. Your passion for the game is impossible to miss when you’re out there.”

  “You’ve seen me play?” I didn’t remember seeing him at the rink before, but I never paid much attention to who was in the stands since I didn’t have any family to come cheer me on.

  “I attended the state tournament last season. Without your two goals in the championship game, your team never would’ve taken the trophy. You definitely earned your MVP status.”

  We’d shocked the high school league four months ago when we’d beaten the Cougars in the quarterfinals before making it all the way to the end and winning the whole thing. Those games had been responsible for the calls I’d gotten from college coaches, and now it seemed as though they were also the reason I would be doing my senior year at the best school in the area, Black Mountain Academy. I’d be playing for the team we’d knocked out in the first round of the tournament. That was ironic as fuck, but I’d sure as hell take it.

  1

  Emmeline

  “You should go out there and talk to the boy.”

  I whirled around so quickly, I almost dropped the binoculars I’d been peering through before Marta snuck up behind me and scared the bejesus out of me. “I really do need to put a bell on you.”

  “Being quiet is in my job description,” she reminded me for about the thousandth time. I’d first made a joke about getting a bell for her like the one our cat wore when I was seven years old. She had caught me trying to sneak an extra cupcake from the kitchen after my bedtime, and I’d been frustrated to be busted by our new maid. But then Marta had thrown me for a loop when she’d handed me a napkin and acted as my lookout so I could make it back to my room without being caught. In a house full of servants who reported every move I made back to my parents, she was a breath of fresh air. Our friendship had only grown from there—much to my parents’ chagrin.

  If anyone other than Marta had caught me gawking at the hot guy who had moved in with my neighbors a couple of months ago, I would have been terribly embarrassed. Nobody else knew about my fascination with him, but I didn’t have any secrets from her. “I can’t just go out there.”

  She propped a hand on her hip, a sure sign she wasn’t going to let the subject drop no matter how much I wanted her to let it go. “Why not?”

  “Standing in the street as he runs past would be super weird.” I lifted a finger to start ticking off all the reasons and didn’t stop until four of them were up. “I’m horribly awkward when talking to boys in normal situations. We probably have nothing in common. And none of that even matters because he’s way out of my league.”

  Marta came closer and pressed the last finger I’d raised back down to my palm. “There isn’t a single boy on this planet who is too good for you.”

  “You’re only saying that because you love me.” Most people in my world would find it weird that my maid was like family to me, but she was one of only two people in my life who had no problem showing me how much they cared.

  “Because you’re so lovable.” She took the binoculars and set them on the table against the wall to the left of my bay window that looked out on th
e front of my house. Between the length of the front lawn and the gate at the end of the driveway, I couldn’t see the road without a little help. “You’re beautiful, kind, and smart. That boy would be lucky to have you.”

  “You and my dad might think I’m pretty, but the rest of the world doesn’t seem to agree with you.”

  “That mother of yours,” Marta muttered with a frown. “Your father needs to smack her upside the head for how she treats you.”

  The idea of my dad striking my mom, even in jest, was preposterous. He was the kindest person I knew, which she took full advantage of on a regular basis. The way my mother treated him had driven me crazy ever since the day I realized most of my friends’ moms didn’t walk all over their husbands. I didn’t understand what my dad saw in her, and I’d never found the courage to ask him. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

  “You’re probably right”—her lips quirked up at the sides—“but that doesn't mean I’m going to stop hoping that he’ll honor the long-standing tradition of trading her in for a newer model.”

  My eyes widened before laughter bubbled up my chest. “My mother can never hear you say something like that. She’d lose her mind, and it wouldn’t matter how much I begged my dad to keep you on staff. You’d be gone so fast both our heads would spin.”

  “Your mother isn’t in the house.” She shook her head and sighed. “I learned my lesson last time she tried to fire me.”