Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5)

by Siobhan Davis

  “We’ve got to do something about this fake relationship thing,” I say from the back seat. Brad is sitting up front with Ky, while Faye is in the back with me. “I hate lying, and I should never have agreed to go along with it in the first place.”

  Brad twists around, eyeballing me. “You owed me.”

  I slant a look at him like he’s crazy. “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “For all the shit you put me through before agreeing to go last night.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I meant every word.” I never did get a chance to tell him I was bluffing about the whole deal.

  His eyes narrow suspiciously. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  A smug grin appears on his mouth. “Well, at least we’ve made some progress. Two orgasms down, three to go, and no male chastity belt in sight.”

  My cheeks flare up, and I cannot believe he just went there. Especially in front of our friends. Brad seems to have a natural ability to take something I consider special and transform it into something seedy. Last night meant something to me. Clearly, it didn’t to him.

  Before I can form an appropriate retaliation, Ky thumps him on the arm. “That’s not cool, man.”

  “What? Rachel knows how to take a joke.” He turns confused eyes on me. “Right?”

  “Just shut up, dickhead.” A piercing pain stabs me through the chest, and tears are threatening to spill.

  “Aw, come on, Red. Don’t be like that.”

  “Brad. I think that’s enough,” Faye snaps.

  “For the record,” I say a couple of minutes later, when the threat of tears has subsided. “I was only messing last night. Consider us quits, and the next time your mom asks me about us, I’m telling her the truth, so I’d suggest you fill her in first.”

  “Fine,” he snaps.

  The look Ky gives him would cause weaker men to cower, but Brad just glares right back.

  I’m tempted to call him out on his hurtful, juvenile behavior, but I don’t have the energy for this. And it hurts. More than I’d like to admit.

  All conversation ceases for a while. There’s an awkward vibe in the car, and I know everyone’s feeling it.

  Faye sends me sneaky glances every so often as I rest my head against the window. Her hand creeps over the leather seat, her fingers threading through mine. I can scarcely swallow over the lump in my throat.

  I hate how Brad can take me from such highs to such lows. But I’m grateful for the reminder.

  This is exactly why I avoid relationships.

  I don’t have the time or the mental capacity to deal with his rapidly changing mood swings.

  I swear I’m not sleeping with him again.

  He can go and fuck himself for all I care.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I remove it, swiping my finger across the screen.

  I’ve a new text message, but I don’t recognize the number. Figuring I’ve received a text in error, I open it up without thinking.

  All the blood drains from my face as I read it. My stomach dips to my toes, and nausea swims up my throat. It’s as if my heart’s just stuttered in my chest.

  You can run, but you can’t hide. I’ll be seeing you soon.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Brad

  I’m watching Rachel through the mirror, and I can tell the instant she turns ghostly white. Her lower lip trembles, and her cell slips between her fingers, plummeting to the ground. I’ve great reflexes, and I lunge for the phone, my fingers curling around it before it hits the floor.

  “Here.” I hold it out to her, and she takes it from me with shaky hands. I gently touch her arm. “Hey, is everything okay?” Her eyes are swimming in panic when she lifts them to me. Nervous adrenaline courses through my system. I’ve only seen such naked terror one other time. On Faye’s face when we were tied to chairs in the cabin and Courtney was holding us hostage at gunpoint. She’d been petrified, and I remember a similar look on her face.

  What the hell just happened to Rachel to cause that same look?

  Who the hell just texted her?

  “Rach?” Faye looks anxiously at her friend. “Who is it? Is something wrong?”

  Rachel stares ahead, as if in a daze. Faye unbuckles her seatbelt, and scoots over beside her. Her arm goes around her friend. “Who was the text from?”

  Rachel turns rigidly still, and my instincts go on high alert. Faye looks at me with blatant concern.

  “I, ah, can you stop the car, Ky. I need some air.” Rachel’s chest rises and falls in quick succession.

  Ky pulls over to the shoulder and she hops out. Faye jumps out with her, keeping an arm around her waist as she throws up. I glance at the back seat where Rachel left her phone.

  “Don’t do it, man.” Ky pins me with a look. “If she wants us to know, she’ll tell us.”

  “She’s scared stiff.” I scrub a hand over my unshaven jaw. “I want to help.”

  “Stop being a douche then. Seriously, man. It’s like you have foot in mouth disease, or are you doing that shit on purpose?”

  “I don’t know.” It’s the truth. It’s like my internal settings are automatically set to self-sabotage mode.

  We stop talking as the girls clamber back in. “Here.” I pass her some tissues. “You okay?”

  She nods, but her hands are still trembling as she clumsily fastens her seat belt. Ky shares a loaded look with Faye before easing the car back out into the traffic.

  Silence engulfs us, and the only sound is the tap-tapping of Rachel on her phone. A few minutes later it pings with a new message. Rachel clears her throat. “No need to drop me off at college. I’m coming to Harvard with you.”

  Faye sits up straighter. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing.” Rachel wets her lips, looking a little more composed. “I just have someone I need to meet.”

  Luckily, we reach campus while it’s still early, because parking is a fucking nightmare most of the time, but Ky finds a vacant space and kills the engine. Rachel is out of the car before the engine’s stopped humming. She gives Faye a quick hug, wiggling her fingers at Ky and me, and then she takes off running across the lot.

  “What the hell is going on with her?” I ask, stepping outside.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” Faye replies, shutting the car door as she drags her lower lip between her teeth. “And you need to stop with all the mixed signals.”

  I shuffle on my feet. “It’s not intentional. Shit just keeps popping out of my mouth.”

  Faye folds her arms across her chest. “Do you like her?”

  I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. I lock my hands behind my head, scrambling for the right words.

  Ky locks the car, and moves to Faye’s side, taking her book bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He laces his fingers in hers.

  “Well?” Faye demands, eyeballing me. She’s not letting this go.

  “I don’t know,” I admit truthfully. “I mean, of course, I like her, but I’m not looking for a relationship.”

  “Why not?” she bluntly asks, putting me on the spot again.

  “I don’t have time for a girlfriend.”

  “I’m calling bullshit on that,” Ky interjects. “You make it sound like having a girlfriend is a chore or a responsibility when it’s the complete opposite.” He looks at Faye in his usual adoring manner. “Having someone on your side, someone you can talk to about all the shit, is in no way a chore. And you need that, man, because you don’t confide in anyone.”

  I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans, growing more and more uneasy by the second. “I have had girlfriends before.”

  “It’s not like with Rose, man, you were only kids, and your other relationships were too casual to count. Don’t disregard
something that could be good for both of you.”

  “And it works both ways. I think Rachel needs you too.”

  “Don’t,” I hiss. “Don’t put that shit on me. I don’t know what’s going on with her, and I’m sorry she seems to be dealing with stuff, but I can barely handle my own crap. How am I expected to support her?”

  Faye shakes her head, and a disappointed look appears on her face. “I never took you for a coward, Brad, but it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” Her piercing eyes penetrate mine. “Do you even know yourself?”

  And there’s the million-dollar question.

  I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Faye. I’m clinging on by a thread in case you hadn’t noticed. And I’m trying to do Rachel a favor by not involving her, and here you two are spouting all this shit at me. Enough already.”

  “Well then, stop sleeping with her!” Faye yells. “Rachel is trying to start afresh, and you’re not helping if you’re hurting her.”

  That sobers me up. “I don’t want to hurt her. That’s never been my intention.”

  “Well, you have. She won’t ever admit that to me, because she’s funny about guys, but I know my friend, and she has feelings for you. If you don’t feel the same way, then you need to stay away from her. I won’t forgive you if you mess her around.”

  “I hear you. I’ll keep my distance.” I sling my bag over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go. I need to find Coach. I’ll catch you guys later.”

  I don’t stick around, hotfooting it out of there. My heart is like a block of stone in my chest as I walk. No matter what I do, I can’t help fucking everything up, and I’m getting sick of being in my own head.

  I spend a couple hours with Coach and my advisor explaining my current home situation. Coach agrees to release me from training this week upon faithful promise that I’ll be back next week. My advisor agrees to notify the relevant professors and arrange to have class notes and assignments emailed to me.

  That should make me happy, but I’m still in a pissy mood as I walk through campus grounds. I’m passing through the quad when I spy Rachel leaving Kev’s place again. Kev holds the door open for her, and they step outside. I dart behind a tree and watch.

  Glutton. For. Punishment.

  He has his hands on her lower back, and there’s a concentrated look on his face as he talks. She nods slowly, and tears well in her eyes. He draws her into his arms, pressing his chin to the top of her head. Her eyes close as she wraps her arms around his waist. There’s a familiarity and a comfort between them that indicates they are closer than I realized. Acid crawls up my throat, and I take off running, not able to witness another second of their togetherness.

  I shouldn’t care, but I do.

  I return to our apartment and fix myself a sandwich for lunch. I turn the TV on to ESPN, watching highlights from the Patriot’s last game as I eat. At some stage, I obviously fall asleep because I wake up a few hours later with a giant crick in my neck. I check my watch, cursing, and hop up. I’ll need to get on the road soon if I’m to avoid rush hour traffic. Yawning, I walk to my bedroom and start packing a bag.

  The buzzer sounds in the kitchen, and I go to see who it is.

  “Hi, it’s Rachel. Can I come up. I have something to give you.”

  I press the button without responding and walk to the front door, leaving it unlocked.

  “Brad?” she calls out a few minutes later.

  “In here,” I holler, stuffing the last few items in my duffel bag.

  I smell the sweet, musky scent of her perfume before her presence is confirmed. I zip my bag and dump it on the floor before turning around. She’s just wearing tight jeans and a plain white tank under an open pink-checkered shirt with high block-heeled shoes, but she manages to look completely ravishing. Her hair is loose but tucked behind her ears, and a light sheen of sweat dots her brow. She looks a little harried, and there’s an uncertain expression on her face. I hate the thought that I probably put it there.

  Bending down, she retrieves a multitude of shopping bags from behind her and walks into my room, almost buckling under the weight of her luggage. She deposits them at my feet before straightening up. “I thought your sisters might need some new clothes and things.”

  My eyes startle as I scan the vast amount of bags. “You went shopping for my sisters?”

  She wipes her hands down the front of her jeans. “Um, yeah. I hope that’s okay. I kinda needed to kill time, and I noticed they didn’t have much stuff with them, and what they had seemed worn.”

  “You didn’t go to class?”

  She shakes her head. “Couldn’t face it today, but I needed a distraction, and I love shopping so …” She trails off, looking down at the floor, and she’s like a different girl. Gone is the feisty, mouthy, confident girl I know. A huge surge of guilt waylays me. Did I do this? Is this all on me?

  I take a step toward her. “You didn’t need to do that, but thank you. I’m sure Emma and Kaitlyn will be very grateful.” I slip my wallet out of my back pocket. “Let me give you something toward it.” I can ill afford it, but it’s not right that she’s paid for it all.

  Her head jerks up at that. “I don’t want your money, Brad. You need it more than I do.”

  Ignoring the insult to my male pride, I remove all the cash in my wallet and hand it to her. “It’s fine, and it’s only fair. I had some spare cash leftover from my last student loan. Here, take it.”

  She steps back, clasping her hands behind her back. “I don’t want it, Brad. I have more money than I know what to do with, and I wanted to do this for your sisters. It’s a present from me. Put your money away.”

  She looks at me with steely determination, and I know there’s no way I’m winning this battle. Stashing my money back in my wallet, I admit defeat. “Thank you. I’ll find some other way to pay you back.” I curse the instant the words leave my mouth, acknowledging how they could be misconstrued.

  The Rachel I know would’ve had an instant retort on her tongue and a snarky expression on her face. But the stranger in front of me merely looks at the ground again. “Not necessary. I like that I’m in a position to help. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and I’m lucky that I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

  Rachel’s clearly in pain, and the urge to fold her into my arms and never let go is almost insurmountable. I purposely cement my feet to the floor because I don’t think she’d appreciate the gesture. She just looks so lost, so forlorn, and so unlike herself, and my natural instinct is to protect her, to make her feel better. But I’m not her boyfriend, and I have no right to touch her without her permission. And after last night, and how I acted this morning, she probably wants nothing more to do with me, and I wouldn’t blame her.

  Last night was beyond incredible. I’ve never felt so much with any girl before, and it scared me. I can add coward and scoundrel to my resume, because, instead of confronting my feelings, I belittled her in front of our friends.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt. “For what I said this morning. It was uncalled for and cruel, and I didn’t mean to dismiss what we shared. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days. I—”

  “Forget it. It doesn’t matter anymore.” She starts backing toward the door. “We’re cool, okay?”

  No. It’s not okay, but I don’t want to push things and end up arguing again. “Okay.”

  “I’ll see you around, I guess.” She gives me a little wave and turns to leave.

  I race after her. “Rachel, wait.” She’s already at the front door, but she stops, keeping her back to me. I maneuver in front of her. “I’m going back to Wellesley for the week. I want to be there for Mom as she deals with all the legal stuff, but it’s not too far away. If you need me, need anything, all you have to do is call, and I’ll come back.”

  “Why would I call yo
u?” There’s no malice in her tone or her expression. She’s just stating a fact.

  “Because I think you’re going through something, and I want to help.”

  She shakes her head. “No, you don’t. You just feel guilty now, but you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear. I think it’s best if we stay away from one another.”

  “It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

  “Yeah, I think it does.” She looks sad. “But don’t worry. I have someone I can depend on, and I’m fine.”

  An ugly ball of jealousy churns in my gut at the realization she means Keven. But I can’t argue with her or defend myself, because my actions have sent her hurtling in his direction. And maybe it’s best to step back. To let him support her. He’s obviously better able to give her what she needs. If I care about her, and I realize I do, then I should step aside.

  “Okay. I’m glad you have support, and my offer still stands. Call me anytime.”

  She sidesteps me, opening the door. “Thanks, but I won’t.”

  And she might as well have driven a stake straight through my heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rachel

  “What’s up with you?” Lauren asks, as we exit our last class of the day on Friday. “You’ve been acting weird all week.”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” I should just record myself saying it and press play anytime anyone asks. Faye has been on my case all week, and it’s starting to piss me off. I know she means well, but she usually knows when to back down. Not this time. This time she’s determined to unearth my secret. And I wish I could tell her, but I can’t.

  Last night, I spent three hours on my laptop searching for psychologists in the local area, and I have a couple of names saved in my phone. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to seeking help, but I’m getting desperate. It feels like I’m losing my mind, and I’m scared out of my wits. Lauren is right in her observation. I know I’m acting crazy. The slightest noise has me jumpy, and on edge, and it’s a wonder I haven’t given myself whiplash with all the looking over my shoulder. I haven’t relaxed all week, and I have barely eaten a thing. I can’t stomach anything, and I’m surviving on nervous adrenaline, fresh air, and water.