“Glad you can see the bright side,” I mumble, crossing to the counter and grabbing the half-empty bottle of shiraz.
“Keats. I really don’t think—”
“I’m not in the mood for a lecture, man.” I pour a large glass of wine. “You know what this means?”
“We don’t have to hide anymore. It’s out there now, and there’s no point denying our relationship.” He takes the glass from my hand, putting it down on the counter. He holds my hips, pressing his forehead to mine. “Let the chips fall where they may.”
I slide out of his hold. “I don’t know how you can be so flippant about this! This will ruin your NFL career.”
“I’m prepared for all outcomes,” he says, and his cool demeanor irritates me.
“Don’t do that! The NFL is your dream, and I’ve probably just cost you that.”
“We don’t know what’s going to happen, and the fact we’re in a relationship might actually help. I’ve been thinking about what your mom said and—”
“No!” I shake my head. “Don’t downplay this. Tying yourself to me is a bad career move right now, Austen. I won’t be the reason you lose out on the NFL.”
Austen’s jaw pulls tight. “Just say what you mean, Keats.”
“Maybe you should move out.” The words feel like poison as they leave my lips, and my throat constricts, like someone is strangling me.
“If you want to break up with me, at least have the balls to say it.”
I don’t.
I don’t want to lose you.
I love you.
I think all those things, but I can’t voice them. “This doesn’t have to be permanent. I think putting some space between us right now is the best thing for both of us.” I make a spur of the moment decision. “I’m going to go home until after Christmas. The administration has already said I can take my tests online.” Reporters are still sneaking into lecture halls, and more than a few of my professors have suggested I log in for lectures instead of attending in person because I’m disrupting their classes, which isn’t fair for them or the other students.
“You don’t have to do that,” Austen says, his voice cold and devoid of his usual warmth. “I’m flying to Denver after the game on Saturday night. I need to speak to my parents because this is going to blow up in the coming days. Coach said I could take a few extra days off.” Austen was originally supposed to go home to tell his parents two weeks ago, but he didn’t want to leave me alone with all this crap going on.
“I’d rather not be here,” I say, reaching for him when his face drops. “It’s not that I want to be apart from you, but I can’t handle the media as it is. It’s only going to get worse now they know about you and think they know about us.”
“I know you’re depressed,” Austen says. “And I understand it, but don’t push me away, Keats. Please.”
I lift my damp eyes to his agonized gaze, and we move as one, our arms winding around each other. “I don’t want to push you away, Austen. But I won’t be the reason you miss out on your dream.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” he says in my ear. “And if it happens, it won’t be because of you or the fact we love each other. It will be down to narrow-minded judgmental assholes.” He eases back, holding my face. “I’ve prepared myself for this scenario. I have my Plan B. But I haven’t prepared myself for losing you, and I wouldn’t survive that.”
“I’m not more important than your career,” I say, batting down the warmth trying to spread through me. “I’m just a guy.”
“You’re the guy, Keats. You’ve never been just a guy to me.”
I press my mouth to his, kissing him tenderly, trying to pretend the pain rupturing my heart isn’t almost killing me. “And you’re that person for me too, but you don’t know that you won’t resent me in the future if I’m the reason you lose out on a place in the NFL. I’ll resent me.”
“Please, just promise me you won’t make any rash decisions without talking to me. I know you’re hurting. I am too. But that only means we need each other even more,” Austen pleads, threading his fingers in my hair. “Don’t give up on us, Keats. I’m begging you.”
“I won’t,” I say, and it’s the first time I’ve ever deliberately, willingly, lied to Austen’s face.
***
I’m staring at the ceiling, listening to music, when my bedroom door swings open and Faye storms into my space. She flops down on the bed alongside me, tugging one of my EarPods out. “I need to speak to you.”
I stop the music on my cell and remove my other EarPod, setting them on my bedside table. “What’s up?”
“This has to stop because you’re breaking my heart, and that can’t be good for the baby.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Using your unborn child is a low blow and so beneath you.”
“Keats.” She rests her head on my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her in close. “I’m worried about you. We all are.”
I snort, because everyone knows Kent doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anything I’m going through. But I won’t mention it, because everyone’s treading on eggshells around both of us these days. “It’s better here,” I admit, because it’s not as stressful at home as it was back in Cali.
“Liar,” she replies, snuggling into my neck. “You’re miserable as sin.”
“At least I don’t have to contend with the media here.”
“You can’t be a hermit for the rest of your life.”
“I know, but it’s more peaceful here, and I need to wallow in that for a while.”
“I can’t believe Melissa gave that interview. I want to go over there and slap her into the next century. It’s either that or make a voodoo doll in her likeness and stab the shit out of it.”
“I don’t care about that,” I truthfully reply. I mean, I’m hurt she’d try to kick me when I’m down, but it confirms what we already figured out. She was in it for the money and I’m sure she got a nice payday for that primetime interview. She really threw me to the wolves. “Except for the part where she criticized Austen and implied I’d been cheating on her with him. That pisses me off.”
The PR people put out a press release denying her claims, subtly insinuating she’s brokenhearted and saying things to spite me, but who knows what people will believe.
“You could sue her.” Faye lifts her head, staring me in the eyes. “You should sue her.”
“That will only prolong things in the media, and I want it to die down. The last thing I want is to be forced to confirm the details of my relationship with Austen in a televised courtroom. I’m trying to protect him, not make things worse.” If we say nothing, and we’re not seen together, the rumors will eventually die out.
“How is pushing him away protecting him?” she inquires, her features softening. “Because I know that’s what you’re doing.”
“He’s dealing with enough shit as it is without me adding to it.” The media is having a field day with both of us. Every day, the headlines are dominated with Austen Hayes, Keaton Kennedy, and speculation over our relationship. It’s a clusterfuck of epic proportions, and it shows no signs of going away.
We speak every night by phone, but there’s a gulf separating us, and I’m not just talking about the physical miles separating us. “Things are tense, and I don’t know what to say, or how to make it right, or if I even should.”
“I hate this for you. You were so happy a few weeks ago. I want to round up the world’s media, put them on an isolated island, and then push it out into the middle of the sea. A bit like Survivor. Except the end game is no one survives.”
I chuckle, and she’s the first one to make me smile in weeks.
She sits up, forcing me to sit up too. “I’m going to level with you. Austen is the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you, and I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing by him, and it’s killing me. You think I want this?” I wave my hands in
the air. “I don’t fucking want this. I love him, and I miss him so much, but I’ve got nothing to offer him right now.”
“Bullshit.” Faye takes my hands in hers. “You have everything he wants and needs.”
“I’m in a bad place, Faye,” I confess. “And I’m scared I’m only going to drag him down to the gutter with me. And he’s so good. So loyal. So talented. So dedicated. He deserves to see his dream come true. I couldn’t live with myself if I ruined it for him.”
“Every relationship has its ups and downs, Keats, and every relationship has outside pressures that threaten its very foundation. That’s when it’s time to batten down the hatches and fight, but you’re giving up.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she shakes her head.
“I know why you’re doing this. This is classic Keaton. Your default setting is to put everyone else first, but it’s time you put yourself first. I know it’s what Austen wants you to do. Don’t push him away. Fight for him. If you truly love him, don’t let the media or Melissa or any other judgmental asshole take that from you. He’s going through a hard time too, and he needs you. You need one another.” She climbs off the bed, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “I just want you to be happy, and that guy is your happy place. Don’t give it up. At least, not without fighting.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Keaton
I clasp my hands in my lap, staring at the landscape flashing by through the window of the taxi, hoping I’m doing the right thing. Austen says his parents are conservative, and they’re bound to be pissed when they discover Austen and Gia have been lying, so Austen’s boyfriend showing up out of the blue probably won’t go down well. But I’m mere minutes from their house, so there’s no backing out now.
Faye’s pep talk cracked through my inner walls, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. I’m ashamed I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I haven’t given any thought to my boyfriend’s needs. He’s got a lot on his plate too, and I can’t abandon him. Especially when he’s made it clear it’s not what he wants.
So, I’m here to offer my physical, moral, and emotional support and to ask for his forgiveness, because he’s been carrying our relationship since the video leak. And it’s time I started pulling my weight.
The driver pulls up alongside the curb, pointing at the neat two-story house across the road. “It’s that one there.”
“Thanks, man.” I hand him two hundred-dollar bills. “Keep the change.”
I grab my overnight bag and climb out of the back seat, pulling the collar of my black, double-breasted wool coat up around my neck to combat the icy chill in the air. Austen wasn’t wrong when he said it was cold in December, but it’s not that different from home, and I came prepared.
Christmas is only five days away, and every house is decorated for the holidays, bringing a smile to my face. Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year, and I love spending the holidays with my extended family. Since my nieces and nephews arrived on the scene, it’s become truly magical again, and I love seeing their excited faces and hearing their squeals of delight when they open their gifts.
I look left and right before crossing the road, gripping the strap of my bag firmly as I head toward Austen’s house.
The sound of laughter trickles out through the open door, and from the myriad of voices conversing and laughing, it’s obvious they have guests. It’s Sunday lunchtime, so it’s not that unusual, and I know Austen’s flight got in late last night, so he probably hasn’t had a chance to tell them yet.
I wet my lips, wondering if I should turn around and retreat. Maybe get a hotel room and call Austen from there? I’m still debating my options when the click-clack of heels alerts me to someone’s impending presence. I dart to the side of the door, flattening my back to the wall, hoping whomever it is doesn’t stick their head out the door and notice me.
“Pamela, there you are,” a woman says.
“Why is the front door open?” the second woman asks, and I’m guessing she’s Pamela Hayes, Austen’s mom.
“Gia has gone to our house to get more champagne.”
“Can you believe it?” Pamela says. “Everything we hoped for is coming true.”
“They’ve always been sweet on one another, so this isn’t a surprise,” the other woman says.
“At least it will put an end to all that nonsense about Austen in the papers. A baby and a wedding will reassure the NFL that he’s a good Christian heterosexual man,” Pamela says.
Pressure settles on my chest, and I swallow thickly over the lump in my throat. What the hell are they talking about?
“I’m going to close it. All the heat is escaping,” Pamela says a second before the door slams shut, and she leaves me out in the cold, confused and in a panic.
My heart pounds in my ears, and I’m rooted to the spot, my brain whirling with different explanations, because it can’t be what I just heard, right? There is no baby. At least, no baby he fathered.
Unless.
Fuck.
Is Gia pregnant by her boyfriend and she’s asked Austen to continue the lie?
“Keaton.”
I jump, dropping my bag on the ground, startled at the unexpected voice.
Gia walks toward me, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand. Her other hand is pressed against her wooly cardigan, keeping it closed around her body.
“Does Austen know you’re here?” She stops in front of me.
I shake my head, my eyes lowering to the hand on her stomach and the sparkling diamond on her ring finger.
“What the hell is going on?” I splutter, lifting my gaze to hers.
She thrusts her hand at me, almost shoving the ring up my nose. “It was Austen’s grandmother’s ring. It’s beautiful. Isn’t it?”
“Austen...proposed?” I choke out, and it feels like every organ in my body stops functioning.
Her face drops, and she brings the hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. He didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what exactly?” I ask, folding my arms around my midriff.
“Keaton. I’m so sorry. When Austen came home for Thanksgiving, we ended up sleeping together, and I just discovered I’m pregnant.”
“But he’s gay,” I blurt, horrified by what I’m hearing. There is no way that could be true. Austen isn’t into women, isn’t into Gia, and there’s no way he’d cheat on me. He wouldn’t.
She slants me a pitiful look while my brain turns somersaults. “Austen popped the question as soon as he heard, because we both know he’s not the type of guy to shirk his responsibilities.”
“But Hendrix—”
“We broke up. I’ve always loved Austen, and I knew one day he’d come around.”
“But he’s with me.” On autopilot, I bend down, retrieving my bag. “This doesn’t make sense. I need to speak with him.”
“Oh, Keaton.” She tips her head to one side, placing her hand—the one with the ring—on my arm. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Pamela has already told Austen he needs to stop rooming with you because your reputation will only tarnish his family-man image. She won’t be pleased if you show up at her door. And you’ll only make it awkward for Austen.”
She flashes the ring in my face, and if she does it again, I’m going to shove it down her throat, pregnant or not.
“Our mothers are already talking about a March wedding,” she continues. “This is a done deal. You know Austen will never let another man raise his child. Just walk away with some pride. And if you ever cared for Austen, you’ll do the right thing.” She moves to pat my arm again, and I sidestep her.
If she touches me one more time, I won’t be responsible for my actions.
“I knew I didn’t like you for a reason,” I say, holding onto my bag for dear life. “My gut instincts rarely let me down.” Except when I don’t listen to them, of course.
“I know you’re upset. I get it. I know what it’s like to love and lose Austen, but you’ll get over it.” She walk
s up to the door, turning to look at me over her shoulder. “I’m sure the degenerates are lining up for a turn in your ass now you’re famous for more than just your name.”
If she wasn’t a woman, and she wasn’t pregnant, I would kick her ass for that comment. Instead, I do what I’m good at—I turn and run.
***
Christmas comes and goes, and Ebenezer Scrooge has nothing on Keaton Kennedy. It takes effort to haul my ass out of bed every day, and I only do that because of Mom. She’s freaking out, over me, over Kent, and I hate hurting her. But I’m in a world of pain, and I don’t know how to cope without Austen. He’s sent me tons of texts and left voice messages for me, but I can’t bear to talk to him. I don’t want to hear his excuses.
I spent the plane ride home from Denver convincing myself Gia was lying. Because I know Austen. I know he’s not into women. I know he wouldn’t cheat on me. And I know he wouldn’t go to all that risk to come out as gay only to throw it away for a hookup.
I got off the plane determined to call him and find out the truth—until I saw the news report on the TV in the airport, confirming Austen Hayes’ engagement, accompanied by a picture of Austen with his arm around Gia. That hideous fucking ring was front and center in the photo, and everything I thought I knew went flying out the window.
No one knows what to say to me, and I’ve refused to talk about it until Faye comes storming into my room again, the week before I’m due to fly back to Cali for spring semester. Austen and I were supposed to be on our cooking mini vacay this week, and my depression has reached new lows. I considered going by myself for all of one second. There is no way I could take that trip without him.
“This feels like déjà vu,” I say as Faye walks toward me with a face like thunder.
She plops onto the bed beside me, holding her cell in one hand. “I want to know what the fuck is going on, and you’re going to tell me right now.”
“Babe.”
I glance up, spotting Kyler in the doorway. His brows are drawn together, his features a mask of worry. Seeing these two pregnant has been the only highlight of Christmas for me. He’s in uber protective mode, and it’s driving Faye nuts.
Adoring Keaton: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers MM Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 9) Page 27
