“You rock my world, Kent Kennedy. I hope you know that.”
My heart races around my chest, like anytime she hints at her feelings for me. “The feeling is definitely mutual,” I reply, kissing her softly.
She sways in my arms, and a wave of contentment sweeps over me. I never thought I could feel like this. That I’d ever get to share anything even close to this with a woman. My life has done a complete one-eighty, and that should terrify the shit out of me, but the only scary part of it is the fear of losing her. Those kinds of thoughts cause me to break out in a sweat.
“We need to go,” she says, breaking our kiss and yanking me out of my head. She thrusts a makeup bag at my chest. “Put that in the overnight bag, please.” I nod, pecking her lips one final time before walking back into the bedroom and packing the small pink bag in my black duffel. Then I zip it up and carry it downstairs to wait for her.
***
“Thank you so much for this,” Kyler says, opening the door to us thirty minutes later.
“No problem, man.” I slap my brother on the back as Presley steps into his house, carrying the bag with toys and candy. “I owe you.”
Kyler closes the door after me, holding me back as Faye takes Presley by the arm and leads her into the main living area. “Hold up a sec,” my older brother says. “I thought you should know the paternity test has confirmed Professor Douchebag knocked Whitney up.”
There wasn’t any doubt in my mind after the way she reacted that day in his office. I haven’t asked anyone about her since, already done with it and her. Whitney no longer occupies any space in my head, and my head’s in a better place for it. “Is he going to support her?”
“He has no choice,” Kyler says, his expression grim. “Adam is making sure of it.”
Bile collects in my mouth at the mention of that asshole. He’s probably so relieved that the baby isn’t mine he’s welcomed the douche with open arms. “I’m guessing he didn’t throw punches in his face,” I say, my bitter tone betraying my venom.
“No, but he did way worse. He registered a formal complaint to the NYU board and got him fired. Then he paid a visit to his wife. Keven found evidence he was having several affairs with different students. His wife has filed for divorce, and no college will go near him.”
“Adam’s a vindictive prick,” I hiss. “Not saying the douche didn’t have it coming, but when is Adam going to accept that Whitney is a grown-up and responsible for her own actions?” And how is the douche supposed to pay child support with no job and no income?
Kyler scrubs a hand over his jaw as the sound of conversation filters out into the hall. “I think he harbors huge guilt over his marriage breakup, and he blames that for Whitney’s behavior, so he’s overcompensating now.”
I shrug. “Nothing to do with me anymore, and if anything good has come out of this, it’s that I won’t have to face either of them again.”
“Faye’s really broken up over all of this,” Ky admits, sighing as he leans back against the wall.
“I’m sorry,” I say because I know it’s hard for her. Faye and I might not have always seen eye to eye, usually over Whitney, but I don’t wish this on her.
“She’s really worried about Whitney,” he adds.
“I am.” Faye appears in the hallway, her heels clicking on the polished hardwood floors. “But Kent doesn’t need to hear that.” In a surprising move, she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight. “I’m sorry she did that to you, Kent. I’m disgusted she tried to sabotage your relationship and pin the blame on you.” She eases back, dropping her arms to her sides. “I just told Presley the same thing because I would hate her to think I condoned it, and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in my presence.” She eyeballs me, and I see nothing but the truth in her gaze. “I’m glad you guys have patched things up. I really like her.”
“Me too.”
She smiles as Kyler circles his arms around her waist from behind. “I’d like it if you and I could start over,” she adds. “Whitney has always come between us, and it wasn’t right.”
I shrug, because I understand anything she said was said out of protection for her sister. I might not have understood it at the time, and I gave her hell for it, but I get it now. “It’s water under the bridge now.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” Kyler takes his wife’s hand. “Rick has already texted me to say they are en route to the restaurant.”
“Enjoy your dinner, and don’t worry about anything. We’ve got this,” I say with more confidence than I feel. This is my first time babysitting the twins, but I’ve got my secret weapon with me—my girlfriend. Presley is a natural with kids, so we will manage.
“We won’t be late,” Faye says. “Ciara was a bit fussy earlier, and I suspect she might be coming down with something, so I don’t want to stay away too long.”
Faye brings new meaning to overprotective, but I’d never fault her for that.
I wave them off and walk into the living room to join my girlfriend.
***
“Well, that was uneventful,” Presley admits three hours later as we are pulling out of Kyler and Faye’s driveway. The kids were already asleep, and they didn’t stir the whole time. We watched TV and made out like teenagers, and it was fun.
“I’m not sure I can say the same for our next destination,” I admit, taking the turn that leads to my parents’ house.
“You think your Mom has ulterior motives in asking us to stay?”
“One hundred percent.”
Mom called during the week when she heard we were babysitting Cathal and Ciara, asking us to stay over so we could join her and Dad for lunch on Saturday. I instantly smelled a rat because it’s only three weeks until Keaton’s wedding and no one has said one word to me so far, which is not like my family. “I’m sensing it’s an ambush.”
Presley clears her throat, glancing at me from the passenger seat. “You think she wants to talk to you about the wedding?”
I nod, turning into the entranceway to my family home. I punch in the code on the keypad, and the gates slowly open.
“And you’re still not talking to Keaton?” she softly inquires. We haven’t discussed it in the weeks since we got back together, although she knows we aren’t talking, and after bigmouth Whitney let the cat out of the bag at Easter dinner, now she thinks she knows why. But that’s only part of the truth.
“Do you want to tell me why?” Her big brown eyes are earnest as she asks the question.
I swing the car into the parking garage, drive into an empty space, and kill the engine. Forcing myself to look at her, I admit the only part of the truth I’m capable of admitting right now. “I slept with his ex-girlfriend.”
She nods because she knew that bit. “Why?”
My leg jerks up and down as I fudge my reply. “I did it deliberately to hurt him. But also to show him that she had an agenda. I’d suspected it for years, and he refused to see it. She would have continued to hang on to him, and I helped him to get rid of her for good.”
It’s true I helped expose her true nature, but it’s not the main reason I had sex with Melissa the night of our twenty-first birthday. I was hurting, and I wanted Keats to hurt too. I’m not proud of my behavior or the things I said to him, but it’s all tied up with that dark, twisted space inside me, and I couldn’t help how I reacted.
Her brow puckers. “Why would you deliberately hurt Keaton?”
“It’s complicated, Pres, and I’m not up to explaining it right now.”
She looks like she’s considering arguing with me, but whatever she reads on my face convinces her to let it go. At least for now. “What was her agenda?”
I take her hands in mine, needing to touch her. “She’s a gold-digging bitch who was only after his money. Keats started going out with Melissa when he was fifteen. Before she got with him, she hit on me, but I turned her down.” Even though that was a very bad period in my life, and I was fucking any female with a pulse those days, my
instincts always screamed at me to steer clear of that girl. “Then one day she shows up on Keaton’s arm, and he’s parading her around as his girlfriend, and I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust her.”
“Why didn’t you tell Keaton?”
“I did, but he didn’t want to know. I think he thought I was jealous.” My brows knit together as something new occurs to me. The day Keaton came out, I was consumed with dark thoughts and the things he said barely registered in my brain, but I still remember some of his words. “Or he just didn’t care because he was confused about his sexuality and he thought having a girlfriend would cure him or something.”
“I understand why that would’ve caused issues in your relationship with Keaton at the time, but why now? He’s getting married, and it’s not like you ever dated Melissa, so I fail to see why you aren’t speaking to him?”
I withdraw my hands and avert my eyes. My chest heaves as intense pressure sits on my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the images away. “There is more to it,” I admit through gritted teeth.
“This is the complicated part?” Presley’s voice is soft and her touch tender as she tilts my face around, making me look at her.
My eyes open, and I stare at the woman I love, wishing I could tell her, wanting to tell her, but I have never uttered those words to another soul, and I don’t know how to say it.
What if she doesn’t want me anymore?
Or she thinks I’m less of a man?
The usual self-doubts resurface in my head like they do anytime I think of that night or anytime I’m forced to face the fact my brother is gay and planning to marry a man.
“I can’t say it,” I whisper, dropping my eyes again, hating how weak I am.
“Can’t or won’t?” she asks in a gentle tone.
I lift my eyes to her concerned ones. “Can’t,” I croak. I lace my fingers in her free hand. “I want to confide in you, Presley. Please believe me, but I can’t. Not yet.”
“You know you can tell me anything, Kent, and it won’t change the way I feel about you.”
“You say that now, but—” I cut myself off, unable to continue. Blood thrums in my ears and rushes through my veins, and my knee jerks off the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut again, batting at the horror replaying behind my closed eyes.
“It’s okay, Kent.” Presley’s reassuring tone and comforting touch reaches behind the terror, rescuing me from the dark hole. “Open your eyes, honey. Please, Kent. Open them for me.”
Pain stings the backs of my damp eyes when I find the courage to open them. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, cupping my face. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need.” She leans over, stretching across the console to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “Whatever it is, just know I am here for you. Whenever you want to talk about it, I will listen. And whatever you need me to do, I will do it, because there is nothing I won’t do for the man I love.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I swear I stop breathing. My eyes lock on hers. “What did you say?” I whisper, unconvinced I didn’t just imagine it.
She kisses me again, but I’m so shocked I don’t even move my lips. She pulls back, smiling shyly. “I love you, Kent. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I say, snapping out of it. Pulling her over the console, I situate her on my lap. Sweeping hair off her shoulders, I let loose a massive grin, and the lingering darkness that threatens to resurface has been obliterated by her words. I bask in the warmth of her love as she smiles at me. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I was scared,” I admit.
“Me too.” She nods, hugging me, and I wrap my arms around her back, never wanting to let her go. “I wasn’t afraid you wouldn’t say it back,” she explains in my ear. “Because you show me you love me in so many different ways.”
I ease back, looking into her face. “It’s scary because now you hold my heart in your hand,” I say, “and you want to cherish it, but you’re terrified you’ll do the opposite.” At least, that’s how I feel.
She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “I’m holding your heart, Kent, and I will always cherish it and protect it, and I trust you to do the same with me. You and me is not what scares me. It’s everything outside of our control that does. We have this amazing love that burns bright, and I don’t want anything to extinguish it. But my life experiences have taught me to be guarded because everyone I love has been taken from me by external factors I couldn’t control, and that is the scariest fucking feeling in the world.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Presley
Kent was right, I think as the doorbell chimes the next afternoon. Lunch is an ambush. “Mom,” Kent growls. “What have you done?”
“What needed to be done,” Alex calmly replies, folding her hands on the table in front of her. A lavish spread of sandwiches, wraps, salad, breads, and cakes lies on top of the long table, and I knew there was far too much food for just the four of us. “You need to speak to Keaton and clear the air before his wedding. He’s hurting, and I know you love your brother and you can’t be happy with the way things are either.”
Kent rubs a hand along the back of his neck in an obvious tell.
I’m worried about him.
Whatever this thing is between him and Keaton must be serious because he was visibly upset in the car last night, and I’m attributing his nightmare last night to it. It’s only the second time Kent has woken up in the middle of the night, shouting and thrashing, with sweat beaded on his brow and rolling down his back.
The first time it happened, when I asked him about it, he said he used to get a lot of nightmares as a kid and he still had the occasional one. I accepted that explanation without question, but now I’m wondering if there isn’t more to it. I haven’t forgotten the panic attack he had in the bar either, and I’m wondering if it’s all connected.
Sliding my hand under the table, I lace my fingers through his and squeeze, letting him know I’m here for him. He grabs my hand with both of his, clinging to me like I’m his lifeline, and my heart floods with love for this man.
Our mutual confessions of love make me feel like I could climb mountains. Like we can overcome any obstacles in our path, but I’m not a vulnerable little kid or a naïve teenager anymore, and I know it’s not that simple. Having found something this precious means it will hurt all the more if I lose it, and I make a silent promise to myself to do everything in my power to protect our love, to always prioritize my needs and Kent’s needs, to let nothing come between us.
Keaton and Austen step into the dining room, and a muscle pops in Kent’s jaw. Tension bleeds into the air.
“Hey, Mom, Dad, Presley, Kent.” Keaton drops his jacket on the back of a chair across the table from us, before sitting down.
“Hey, everyone,” Austen adds, claiming the empty seat beside his fiancé.
Alex, James, and I return their greeting while Kent quietly decomposes. His leg shakes underneath our conjoined hands, and his back is rigidly stiff.
“Let’s just get this done,” he says through gritted teeth, leveling his brother with a dark look.
James clears his throat. “We’re going to have our lunch in the sunroom so you kids can talk in private.”
Alex puts plates and cups on a tray, handing it to James. Drawing her shoulders back, she clasps her hands in front of her body, preparing to lay down the law. “We love you all, and I know whatever it is you will get through this.” Her gaze bounces between her two sons. “The three of you were so close growing up,” she continues, obviously including Keanu in her comment. “It was a joy to watch. You instinctively always knew where each other was, and you defended one another when anyone said or did anything nasty. You three were a solid team, and you always, always, had each other’s backs. I don’t know where it went wrong or why, but you need to remember who you are to one another because you have always been more than just brothers.” Tears pool in her eyes and it’s obvious how much their separation has hurt he
r. “Please make this right, because it’s breaking my heart.”
James sets the tray down, circling his arm around Alex, holding her to his chest while she sobs as he leads her out of the room. Austen stands, taking the tray and following them out.
“Do you want to speak alone?” Keaton asks Kent.
Kent shakes his head. “I don’t keep secrets from Presley.”
Keaton smiles. “Like I don’t keep secrets from Austen.”
Kent’s mouth curls into a snarl, and I plead with my eyes, begging him to at least try.
“Would you like tea or coffee?” I ask Keaton while we wait for Austen to return.
“Coffee, please,” he says, pushing two cups toward me. I fill both with coffee from the silver pot as Keaton fills his plate and Austen’s plate with food.
“Is she okay?” Keaton asks when Austen reenters the room.
He nods, sitting down beside Keaton, placing his arm along the back of his fiancé’s chair. “She’s fine.”
I squeeze Kent’s hand in reassurance.
“What is it you want to say?” Kent asks, his voice gruff.
“Have you been getting my texts?” Keats asks, and I mask my surprise. I had no idea Keaton had been texting Kent because he never said one word to me about it.
“I have.”
“So, you know I love you and I forgive you.”
Wow. That could not be easy to say. My respect for Keaton has magnified ten-fold.
Austen’s face is a mask of neutral calmness, but from the way he’s drilling his eyes into Kent, I know he believes Kent is at fault and he’s expecting a grand gesture. One I’m not sure Kent is in a place to deliver.
“How can you?” Kent asks, looking down at the table rather than at his brother. “I have done nothing to earn your forgiveness.”
“You’re my triplet. You’re a part of my soul, and I’m done missing you. Whatever it is, we can overcome it together.”
Kent’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
“Can you not even look at me now, Kent?” Keaton asks, and his pain is clear to see.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 21
