Makes me feel like the crappiest friend on the planet, but it is what it is.
Once I’m changed, I start tackling my studies and get stuck in. I’m a couple hours in when my phone rings. I pick it up and stare at the screen, debating whether or not to accept the call from Adam. No point in delaying the inevitable, I suppose. Mentally preparing myself, I press the button. “Hey.”
“Hi, Faye. Can you talk?”
I sit up on the bed, crossing my legs. “Sure. I was just studying, but I could use a break.”
“How is your week going?” Here we go.
“Grand. I’ve studied, swum, rearranged Brad’s room, and cooked up a Mexican feast last night.”
He latches on the one part of that conversation I didn’t expect him to. “You like to cook?”
“Yeah. Mum used to bake with me from a young age, and Dad always bought me a new cookbook on my birthday every year. I was always experimenting.”
“You’ll have to cook for me some time,” he suggests.
“Sure. Speaking of, James has proposed you could come here with your, ah, children so we could all meet?”
“It’s nice of him to offer, and I’m happy to do that if you are.” I can tell he’s making a huge effort to ease me into this and it goes a long way toward reassuring me.
“Okay. How about this weekend?”
“I think that’s workable. Leave it with me and I’ll come back to confirm.”
“Cool. I’ll need to double-check with James also.”
“Great.” I hear hushed voices in the background. “I need to head out for a client meeting, but I’ll message you later.”
“’Kay. Bye.”
I flop down on my bed, tossing my phone aside. Adam is actually pretty cool, I’ve got to admit. I thought he would lay into me for getting suspended from school, but it’s like we already have this unspoken agreement. He knows he can’t start acting all strict, and he isn’t even attempting to go there. I respect him so much more for that. But it’s still so surreal and that’s before I’ve even met my brothers and new sister. This weekend should be interesting, that’s for sure.
I’m in the kitchen fixing a chicken salad for lunch when the bell peals. I’m halfway to the lobby when the sounds of multiple visitors stepping inside distract me. Feet troop inside in droves, and I turn around, heading back to my prep. Alex wasn’t joking on Monday. This place has been like Grand Central Station all week. I hope whatever she has up her sleeve is going to stick it to Courtney once and for all. I’m totally rooting for my aunt in this showdown.
I eat my lunch alone in the kitchen, staring absently out the window at the rain sheeting down by the bucket full. I can’t wait until the weather turns. Despite the fact I grew up in Ireland—well accustomed to the rain and the cold—I hate winter. Spring is my favorite time of year, when the weather has turned warmer, and the evenings are brighter, and I can leave the house without the need for a thick coat. Plus, my mood is always more upbeat when the weather is perkier.
I clear away my lunch things and head back toward my room. A gust of cold air blasts me the minute I step into the lobby. The front door is wide open, granting full access to the elements. The floor by the door is wet from the pelting rain. Shaking my head and muttering under my breath, I close the door carefully and then retrieve the mop and bucket and soak up the excess water.
I’m responding to a message from Rach when I step into my room. My head is down, and my focus is fixed on the screen when the sounds of heated arguing reach my ears. I tuck my phone in the pocket of my jeans and set out in the direction of the raised voices.
I round the corner and slam to a halt, gasping at the two figures in front of me. The door to Alex’s office is wide open, and the men and women around the long table are watching the interactions in the corridor with keen intensity. My heart rate picks up as I stare into familiar grayish-green eyes. Courtney smirks over her shoulder at me.
“I won’t ask you again,” Alex demands, in a barely contained voice. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”
I’ve never heard her so rattled, and judging by the shell-shocked expressions on her colleague’s faces, neither have they.
Courtney runs a hand down the front of her skirt. “I’m here for the meeting,” she retorts coyly.
“Like hell you are. You weren’t invited and you aren’t welcome here. Leave or I’ll call Officer Hanks.” Alex straightens up, glaring at her arch nemesis.
Courtney lifts her shoulders and stiffens her spine in a defiant stance. “I’m VP of business operations. I have a right to be here, and I’ll have to report you for misconduct. You have no legitimate excuse for excluding me.”
“You are not VP yet, and I have every right to exclude you.” Alex steps up to her, pinning her with a cold, stubborn gaze. The sounds of murmured whispers echo from the room behind her. “If you wish to command the respect of your colleagues, I suggest you leave voluntarily, although, I’ll happily organize a police escort for you if you refuse.”
A muscle ticks in Courtney’s jaw as her eyes narrow to slits. A look of pure unadulterated hatred fills her eyes, and I get legit chills all over. Lifting her chin, she pierces Alex with a calculating look. “I’ll go but things will be different next week, Alex.” She brushes past my aunt, jostling her shoulder. “This is the last time you’ll tell me what to do.” With that parting threat lingering in the air she walks away with her head held high. Alex looks tellingly at me.
“I’ll make sure she leaves.” I race after her, trailing her all the way to the front door. She sends one last smirk my way before I slam the door shut with force.
Alex is waiting for me outside my bedroom door. “What did she want and how did she get in here?” she ruminates out loud.
“I’m not sure, and someone left the door open.”
“I don’t like it. She was in this house for a reason.” Alex starts pacing the floor. After a couple of minutes, she thrusts her hands in the air. “I don’t know! Dammit. Maybe we should search all the rooms.”
“She can’t have caused any damage. She could’ve only been inside for a few minutes,” I supply, computing the timeline in my head. “Perhaps we caught her in time.”
“I hope you’re right.” She claws her hand through her hair. “And I can’t spend any more time worrying about it. I need to get back to my meeting.”
I tell Ky what happened when he gets home from school. “What is she up to this time?”
“Who knows? Blonde bitches seem fixated on the men in this family,” I part joke.
“Did you let Dad know?”
“Yep. I called him earlier.”
Ky soars onto my bed, pulling me down with him, and the mattress shakes underneath us. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He plays with my hair, and I allow myself a moment to truly appreciate what I have. It’s the simple things he does that mean the most. The way he holds my hand. The way he looks at me, into me, seeing right to the very essence of my soul. The way he cradles me to his chest like I’m the most precious cargo. The thoughtful gestures that show how much he cares. Honestly, I could live in a shack with Ky and still be amazingly happy.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day, about therapy,” he admits, as I trace a line with my fingers up his arm. “I’m going to give it a try. I want to tell my parents, but I’m still so angry with them over it, and that’s not really fair, so I’d like to work through some of that stuff before I confess. I don’t want any more arguments. I want to be able to tell them calmly, and I don’t think I’m in that space yet.”
I push up on my hands, leaning over him. “I’m glad. I think it will help. Do you want me to come with?”
“Yes, please. I know you can’t participate in the session, but even having you waiting outside will help steady my nerves.”
&
nbsp; I dip my head and kiss him. “I can do that. I’m happy to do that.”
“Thank you.” His hands wander to my butt, and a devilish glint appears in his eye.
“I’ll make the appointment for you tomorrow.” I deliberately move his hands off my butt. His mother still has a houseful of guests, and there’s no way I’m indulging in sexy times when there’s a crap ton of people who might hear.
“I think that deserves a reward.” He returns one of his hands to my ass, squeezing firmly. Holding my head in place with his other hand, he pulls me toward him, and I give in to the inevitable.
Trying to resist him is a bit like being offered the most decadent chocolate cake in the world and then being told it’s calorie free.
So, I give in. Letting him claim his reward in his own unique fashion.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kyler
Addison is waiting by my locker again when I get to school, and it takes enormous self-control not to smash my fist into the wall. I don’t know how I can be any blunter. I’m tired of telling her we’re over, but she’s not getting the message. They should invent a new word especially for her. Stubborn doesn’t even come close to explaining her pigheadedness. “Go away,” I snarl, yanking my locker open.
“Where is all this pent-up frustration coming from, I wonder?” she says in that whiny voice she adopts whenever she’s trying to get her way. “Ireland mustn’t be putting out, huh?” She sends me a faux sympathetic look, and the urge to bash my head against the wall is riding me hard. Why does she continue to bust my balls? There’s enough crap crammed in my head without Addy’s additional bullshit.
“I’m not discussing Faye with you except to tell you, again, that she makes me unbelievably happy, way more than you ever did.” I pile the last of my books into my bag, grab a carton of almonds, stash it in the front pouch, and bang the door shut. I sweep past Addison without waiting for a reply.
Stubborn isn’t a strong enough word for her. The same thought keeps repeating as I shake my head and try to lose her. She appears on my left side, almost running to keep up with my long strides. I slam to a halt in the middle of the corridor, and someone crashes into me from behind. I’m too incensed to care, let alone check if the person is all right. “I. Will. Not. Say. This. Again,” I yell. “Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!”
A small crowd is starting to form around us, and Addison goes into full-on performance mode. “Suit yourself, asshole. And don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
“Screw off, Addison. I mean it. Stay away or you’ll be sorry.” My eyes narrow, and my lip curls into a snarl as I send her my most threatening look.
She pivots on her heels, storming off with her hair flying out behind her like it shares her sense of indignation.
“What’d she do this time?” Dylan asks, appearing alongside me. He’s our star quarterback and someone I’ve started hanging out with since Brad transferred. He’s actually pretty smart and cool for a jock, and he’s been exclusive with Hailey, the head cheerleader, for the last two years. They make a good couple, and it’s refreshing to meet people who appear stereotypical but aren’t.
“What she always does,” I growl, swinging my book bag over my shoulder. “Merely exist.” I rub my stubbly jaw. “I swear she was put on this earth just to mess with me.” Although it’s unfair to blame her entirely for my foul mood. This shit show with Brad has me pretty messed up. We fall into step as we head toward class.
“I heard she hooked up with Grayson last weekend.”
“Hallefuckinglujah,” I say, entering the room and heading to my usual seat. Curious eyes surround me, and I turn a sweltering glare in several directions. “Maybe now she’ll forget about me.”
“Doubt it,” Dylan says, sliding into the seat behind me. “Grayson isn’t exactly Mr. Commitment and she knows it. The way I hear it, she told him she was only doing him to make you jealous. She wanted it to get back to you.”
“Ugh.” I drop my head to the desk, groaning. “What the hell is wrong with her? She knows Faye is my girlfriend. I’m a total ass to her, yet she still won’t fuck off.”
“Dude, can’t you report her to the cops? I thought she had to stay away from you and your family.”
“She does, but they can’t enforce that rule strictly at school which is why she has taken it upon herself to stalk me everywhere I go. I know some of the teachers have had a word with her, but she doesn’t seem to care. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“She’ll get the message eventually.”
I snort, lifting my head up as the teacher enters the room and the lesson starts.
The door swings open five minutes before class is due to end, and three men step inside. My heart plummets to my toes as I recognize the detective from Bayfield. It can’t be good if he’s come here as opposed to calling me back for further questioning.
Buzz cut talks discreetly in the teacher’s ear while his eyes scan the room. His gaze latches on when he finds me and my gut tightens. The two uniformed officers accompanying him stand with their legs slightly open and their hands behind their back, looking like prize douchebags as they scan the room.
I start packing my bag even before the teacher calls my name.
I saunter to the top of the room like I haven’t a care in the world. Planting my game face on, I look bored and unconcerned even though my heart is hammering against my ribcage and my palms are sweaty. Nausea hovers at the base of my throat, and my stomach churns unpleasantly. The detective takes my bag, handing it off to one of the officers, while the other cop grabs my hands behind my back. What the fuck?
The detective starts spouting a load of bull, but I tune him out. His words blur as my mind whirls in a mad panic. It was only yesterday that Dan called Dad to say it looked like they were pursuing other lines of inquiry. That I might be in the clear. That the bartender had given a statement verifying my version of events from later that night. What the hell could have happened between last night and this morning to change things?
I avoid looking at any of my classmates, staring straight ahead with a blank expression as if I don’t give a shit. My cuffed hands scrunch into balls of fury behind my back. The assholes couldn’t have arrested me after school?
The bell clangs just as I’m led out the door. Crowds swarm the corridor, instantly stopping when they see me being led out by a uniformed cop with my hands in cuffs. Kal pales when he sees me. “Call Dad,” I mouth, and he nods, whipping out his cell immediately. Addison is chattering away to that annoying redhead she hangs around with—the forgettable one who was always hitting on me behind her back—as she emerges from class. Her mouth hangs open when she spots me, and a brief flash of what looks like concern flits across her face, but it’s gone so fast I can’t be sure of it. I pretend not to notice her, or any of the inquisitive looks, keeping my focus dead ahead as I’m led off school property.
I’m shoved roughly in the back of the cruiser and taken to the local police station. After telling the police I have nothing to say and requesting my attorney, I’m left in a small, whitewashed room by myself. The obligatory mirror-slash-window mocks me from the back of the room, and I try to limit my fidgeting to the minimum, but it’s hard. I’m freaking out like I’ve never freaked out before.
After an eternity, the door opens and Dan Evans, our family attorney, steps into the room. I’ve never been happier to see any dude in my life. “What’s going on?” I ask before he’s even sat down.
Carefully setting his briefcase on top of the table, he claims the seat beside me. “They have found the gun that was used to kill Mr. Grant.”
I sit upright in the chair, confusion bunching my forehead into creases. “That’s great, but why have I been arrested? Surely that exonerates me?”
He removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs. “It would if they hadn’t found the murder weap
on in your bedroom.”
“What?” I yell, vaulting up. My chair knocks to the floor with a bang. “No frigging way! That’s impossible. I didn’t kill him. I swear to you. He was alive when I left, and I’ve never owned a gun. Never even handled one.”
“Kyler, sit down. Now.” Dan’s look and tone broker no argument, so I do what I’m told. A heavy weight is pressing down on my chest, making breathing difficult. He wets his lips. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but it seems apparent you’re being set up. An anonymous tip was placed in the early hours of this morning, advising the investigating officer to search your room for the weapon. They showed up at the house just after you left for school and found the gun right where they had been told to expect it.”
“Holy shit! I have no idea how it got there.”
He leans forward in his chair, angling his body toward me. “Think carefully, Kyler. Someone planted that weapon in your bedroom. Who had access to your house this week?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Mom’s had work colleagues over all week so there’ve been people coming and going nonstop. It must’ve been one of them.” All the blood drains from my face as I recall Tuesday night. I clamp a hand over my mouth.
No way.
Yes way, the other voice in my head protests. She was prepared to let Kal go to prison for a rape he didn’t commit.
“What is it?” Dan asks, expertly reading my changing expressions.
“My ex turned up at my house Tuesday night.” God, Faye was right. Why didn’t I listen to her? She’s always right when it comes to Addison. “She faked an asthma attack, and when I went to the kitchen to find an inhaler, she disappeared in the house. I didn’t really think much of it …” I trail off, so fucking mad at myself for being such an idiot.
Keeping Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 3) Page 21
