The Stone Brothers: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  Chad: Sweetie, I wish I could, but I’m in meetings all day.

  Megan: Please? You said you would come whenever I need you. Well, I need you.

  Chad: I did say that, didn’t I? Okay. I may be able to stop by around 4, but I’ll have to make it quick.

  Megan: You’re the best. I love you, you know that, right?

  Chad: Love you, too. See you then.

  Megan: Thank you for coming over, even though it was just a quickie. I feel so much better now.

  Megan: See you Sunday night.

  I don’t bother reading back any further. I’ve read enough. With tear-blurred vision, I stare at her picture a moment longer and then I drop the phone onto the floor. I’m pretty sure I hear it crack but I’m too upset to care. My stomach turns and I have to concentrate to hold back the vomit. I don’t even bother with my suitcase. I grab my purse and my phone and head out the front door. I summon an Uber on my walk to the front gate of the neighborhood and by the time I reach it, a car is waiting.

  “LAX p-please,” I tell him, trying to keep it together.

  The whole way there, I wonder how I could have been so stupidly blind. He’s not changed his ways at all. How could he even sit there and claim to love me when he is clearly in love with Megan? He stopped at her house for a quickie and then came home to me? What kind of man does that? A self-serving asshole, that’s who.

  I rip open the door before the car is even at a full stop. I start to run into the airport when I hear the screeching of tires behind me. I spin around to see what’s what and see Chad’s car. I quickly make a visual sweep but don’t see Cole. He’s here alone. He leaves his door open, running around the car in a t-shirt and board shorts as if he put on the first thing he found on his floor. “Mallory!” he yells.

  He’s twenty feet from me and that’s close enough. I hold up my hand. “No,” I say. “Stay back.”

  He pulls his shattered phone out of his shorts, holding it up for me to see. “It’s not what you think. I swear.”

  I hear a crowd gathering, but don’t have the energy to care. All my energy was spent on heartbreak in the cab ride over. “What I think is that you’ve been fucking someone else!” I shout. “It’s pretty damn clear.”

  Chad looks around and I follow the direction of his eyes. Paparazzi are running towards us. They always camp out at the airport in hopes of finding celebrity photo ops. My heart fractures even further. We are about to break up in the most public of ways and it’s going to make people salivate.

  Chad takes a few steps forward, motioning to the gathering crowd. “Do you really want to do this right here, Mal?”

  More tires screech behind us. I look over and see Cole running from his car.

  “Get me a secure fucking room,” Chad says to him through his gritted teeth.

  I watch Cole run over and talk to a guy with a badge and not ten seconds later, they both come over to Chad. “Mr. Stone, right this way.” The guy with the badge then turns to me. “Miss? Follow me, please.”

  My instinct is to keep walking into the airport. But I can see in Chad’s eyes that he’s not going to let this go so easily. He wants to win. Have his cake and eat it too. Part of me wants to let the whole bloody scene play out in front of the paparazzi. Let the carnage fall where it may. But then for just one second, I think of my job. My students. What kind of example would I be setting if I aired my dirty laundry for all to see?

  I nod at the guy with the badge and let him escort me into a private, unmarked entrance. We walk down a hallway and into a small reception area. It looks like a ticket counter, but there is only one. I guess this is where the VIPs get to check in. We’re escorted into a small room next to the counter. It has a couch and three chairs and I wonder what it’s used for if not exclusively for asshole celebrities and their soon-to-be ex-girlfriends to fight in.

  Chad whispers something to Cole and then Cole closes the door, leaving Chad and me alone in the room.

  “I can explain,” he says, sitting down and putting his elbows on his knees, fingering the broken screen of his phone.

  “If you can explain that away, you’ll earn a goddamn Oscar,” I tell him, pacing the room.

  “I’m not cheating on you, Mallory. I love you. I don’t love anyone else—not in that way. I know what you read looks really bad, but I swear you’ll understand once I explain it to you.” He closes his eyes briefly and then focuses on the floor. “You’ll understand, but you may still hate me.”

  I’m not sure there is anything else he could have said to grab my attention more. How could I hate him any more than if he were cheating on me? I take a seat in the chair farthest from him, wiping another tear off my sodden face. “I’m listening,” I say. “Talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chad

  I hope Cole is quick about the errand I sent him on. Thank goodness he doesn’t have to go far. I need all the help I can get on this one. When I found my shattered phone on the floor and read the texts on the screen, there was no doubt in my mind that Mallory had run. I would have run myself—after I hunted down and kicked some dude’s ass, that is.

  I don’t think I’ve ever driven so fast in my life. It was a miracle I didn’t get pulled over. But I had to get to Mallory. I don’t even want to imagine what it would’ve been like for her if she’d gotten on that plane thinking I’d cheated on her.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask her, stalling.

  “Don’t beat around the bush so you have time to think up excuses, Thad. Just get to it; I have a plane to catch.”

  There was a time when I loved it when she called me Thad. Now it’s just a reference to the asshole I once was and that she thinks I still am. And I hate that she had to spend her own money on airfare. “You already booked a ticket?”

  “No. But I will as soon as we’re done here.”

  “I hope that’s not true, Mal. But if you still want to leave after what I tell you, I’ll change your return ticket for you. You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

  “That’s right, I forgot. You Stones are always buying stuff for people. How generous of you,” she says sarcastically.

  “What’s that supposed to mean, ‘we Stones’?”

  “Sorry,” she says, looking guilty. “I didn’t mean to put your mother in the same narcissistic group you belong to. She took me shopping today and bought an outrageously expensive dress for me to wear Friday night. It’s in the back of your closet, by the way. Please have her return it for a refund.”

  I look at her, surprised. “You went shopping with my mom?”

  She nods sadly, looking at the floor.

  Damn it! Everything was perfect and I had to go fuck it up because I wasn’t upfront with her about everything.

  Her chin quivers and she swallows hard. “Chad, just say what you’re going to say. Why did you even bother bringing me in here? Why did you come after me when you have her to go back to?”

  “Megan isn’t my girlfriend,” I tell her. “She isn’t my mistress or my fuck-buddy or even a one-night stand. Whatever you think she is, I assure you it couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

  “I know what I saw on your phone. She said she needed you. She said she . . . l-loves you and . . . y-you said it back.” Her voice trembles as more tears pool in her eyes. “She thanked you for a quickie. And she called you Chad. Nobody calls you Chad unless they are very important to you.”

  I nod. “She is very important to me, Mal. Besides you, she may be the most important person in my life.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re confusing me. You say you aren’t cheating on me, yet you’ve hidden her from me. Why would you do that? Who is she?”

  “Check your phone,” I say.

  “Why?”

  “I had Cole call my lawyer and he emailed you everything you need to read.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me?” She eyes me skeptically.

  “I could tell you, but I’m not sure you’ll believe me. I want you to
read about it for yourself.”

  She reluctantly pulls out her phone and checks her mail. I know it will give her the information she needs. I just hope once she’s done reading, she doesn’t get up and walk out of my life.

  It takes her a while to get through the document my lawyer sent. I can see every emotion as it crosses her face. I can see the shock that lets me know she’s reading about the accident I had when I was stoned out of my mind. I can see the sadness when she reads about a fifteen-year-old girl who was sent to the hospital in a coma because I had t-boned the side of her dad’s car. I cringe when a hand flies to her mouth to stop her startled gasp as she reads about the leg the girl had amputated in the aftermath.

  She finishes the article, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Oh my God. Why didn’t I ever hear about this?”

  “Probably because I have a damn good lawyer,” I say. “He did a lot of damage control and the particulars of the accident were never released because Megan was a minor. Also, Megan’s dad was sympathetic to me because he was drunk at the time, only he wasn’t tested because the accident was my fault. It was a huge wake-up call for both of us. I went to rehab for four weeks, and then I paid all her medical bills.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?” she asks.

  “You know why,” I say, sick guilt rolling through me in punishing waves. “Your mom was killed by a drunk driver. I thought you’d hate me. I was sure you couldn’t be with someone who’d done what I’d done.”

  She closes her eyes and I know she’s thinking of her mom. “Why didn’t you go to jail?” she asks.

  “I almost did.” I should have. I run a hand through my hair. “Ron, that’s my lawyer, pulled some strings and got them to let me go right to rehab from the holding facility, putting off my arraignment in the process. And by the time I got out of rehab and met with Megan’s dad, he’d had a lot of time to think about things. He said it very well could have been him. That he had driven drunk more times than he could count. That’s why he wasn’t going to sue me for everything I was worth. And believe me, they could have used the money. He’s a construction worker and his wife is in retail management. He thanked me, can you believe it? He thanked me for getting him to quit drinking. It’s then that I told him I wanted to pay for Megan’s college education.”

  I shake my head still not believing how much that family has done for me. “Can you believe he showed up at my arraignment and asked the judge not to put me in jail? He asked him to sentence me to community service, taking Megan to all her rehab appointments and working with other amputees. It was hard at first because Megan hated me for taking her leg, but it turned out to be one of the greatest things I’d ever experienced. I think her dad knew all along that she’d come around. He once told me she’d watched every episode of Malibu a hundred times.

  “Megan and I grew on each other. The kid is smart. Like rocket scientist smart. And that first year, during the time her stump healed but before she got the Cadillac of all prosthetics, she studied her ass off to try to get into a good college. Before the accident, she was a C student at best. Now, she’s going to graduate with honors. And she’s been accepted to both MIT and Harvard. She wants to make advancements in the world of bionic prosthetics. Oh, and she took up running. She got a silver medal in the Paralympics last summer.”

  “You’re kidding me?” Mallory says, looking surprised. So many emotions bleed from her eyes right now. Pain. Disbelief. Ambivalence.

  She points to my phone. “Tell me about the texts. The ‘I love yous’ and the ‘quickie.’ ”

  “Prom dress crisis,” I say.

  “Come again?”

  I nod. “She found a dress she loved, and the store let her bring it home for the afternoon before buying it so she could try on her various prosthetics with it. She has several. One for running, one for when she wears flat shoes, and one for heels. She even has one she can swim with. She wanted me to come over and make sure I knew the exact color tie to get. And also to get my opinion about whether she looked fat in it or not.” I motion to my phone. “The quickie thing was just a poor choice of words on her part. But yes, I love her. I love her like a sister, Mal.”

  “Let me get this straight,” she says. “You did cocaine and then drove a car, causing this girl to lose her leg. That prompted you to get sober and make friends with Megan, who then decided to go to college to change the world. College she couldn’t afford unless you paid for it.” She shakes her head. “And you’re taking her to her prom?”

  “Uh . . . I guess that about sums it up.” I sit in the chair next to her. “Are you going to leave me now?”

  “Leave you?” she says. She turns to face me and takes my hand. “Chad, I believe everything in this world happens for a reason. If you’d never had the accident, you might still be using drugs. You might even be dead.”

  “She lost her leg, Mallory. Because of me. There is no reason for it. I’d rather be dead myself than have put her through that.” I hang my head down.

  Mallory puts a finger under my chin and forces me to look at her. “If Megan hadn’t been the one you hit, she never would be going on to college. She never would have won an Olympic medal. She never would have had this incredible friendship with you—her idol. And her dad might never have gotten sober. I’m not saying it was good that it happened, but look at the facts; despite her losing her leg, all of your lives are better off, wouldn’t you say?”

  For the first time since I saw the broken phone on my bedroom floor, I feel a glimmer of hope. “You’re not leaving me?”

  She smiles and it makes me want to shout in victory. “No, I’m not leaving you, Chad. But you have to promise me you’ll never keep secrets from me again.”

  I kneel before her chair, taking her head in my hands as I crush my mouth against hers, tasting her salty lips. “I promise,” I whisper into her mouth in between kisses. “I promise no more secrets. Ever.”

  There’s a knock at the door and I stand up, pulling Mallory with me. “It’s for you,” I tell her.

  “For me?” She walks over to the door and opens it.

  Megan walks through, gracing us with her infectious smile. She looks at Mallory. “So you’re the lucky chick who gets to have his gorgeous babies?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Mallory comes out of my bathroom and my jaw hits the fucking carpet. Ho-ly shit! The dress she’s wearing takes my breath away. It’s not skin tight like most actresses I know would prefer. This dress is so much better. The bodice is fitted and enticing, showing just enough cleavage to draw attention without being slutty. It shows off her slim waist, and the above-the-knee skirt displays her shapely legs while leaving what’s beneath it to the imagination. Of course, I don’t need to imagine. I’ve seen her. I’ve had her. More times than I can count now, yet it’ll never be enough.

  “God, Mal.” I walk over to her and circle around her, my eyes taking in every inch of her gorgeous figure. “I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, but I was wrong.”

  She blushes. Making her blush is one of the highlights of my existence. If she weren’t all dolled up and ready to party, I’d throw her back on my bed for another round of make-up sex. We’ve been having a lot of that lately. I’ve had a lot to make up for. And when we haven’t been making love, we’ve been talking. Well, mostly I’ve been talking, telling her everything about my life from the minute I left her nine years ago until the second I saw her at the club.

  “Thank you,” she says, her hungry eyes looking me over. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

  I’m wearing a pair of black jeans with a white shirt, tan jacket, and black tie. Mallory walks over to me and untucks my shirt. “There, you look very celebrity chic now.”

  “Since when did you become an expert?” I ask.

  “You pick up a thing or two by watching Entertainment News Weekly,” she says.

  I frown. “Mal, I wish you wouldn’t watch that shit.”

  “What?” She smiles innocently. �
�ENW is not a sleazy tabloid show, it’s actually pretty good.”

  “Still, don’t—”

  “Believe everything I see,” she says, completing my thought. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

  I hold my hand out to her. “Come on, Cole’s waiting.”

  Mallory is exceptionally quiet on the way to Ana’s house. As Cole pulls into the circular driveway I ask her, “Is something bothering you?”

  She shrugs. “I guess I’m a little nervous. After all, I’m about to walk into a room full of famous people.”

  “Well, you already met Ana, Hayden, and Noreen,” I say. “That only leaves a few dozen people for you to meet. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure Ryan Gosling has other plans tonight.” I wink when I say the name of her secret crush.

  She gives me a look of annoyance. “Not helping,” she says.

  We’re escorted through the front door and directed to Ana’s back patio. It’s decorated with tiki torches and large white paper lanterns. There’s a summer kitchen that has been set up as a bar, tables and chairs under a pergola covered with vines, and attendants walking around with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

  Ana spots us and comes over to say hello. “Hey, Mallory, nice to see you again.” She kisses her cheek and then mine.

  “You, too, Ana,” Mallory says. “You have a lovely home and this is magnificent.” She motions around the beautifully landscaped backyard.

  “Thank you,” Ana says with pride. “But I can’t take all the credit. It was pretty much like this when I bought it last month.”

  Mallory flushes and she elbows me. Hard. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ana. I didn’t realize this was a housewarming party.”

  Ana laughs, putting a reassuring hand on Mallory’s arm. “Don’t worry, it’s not.” Then she motions for a waiter, grabbing a glass of champagne for Mallory. She tells him, “Please get a bottle of water for Mr. Stone.”

  More people arrive and Ana excuses herself to greet them. Mallory turns to me. “I really like her. She doesn’t pressure you to drink.”