The Twelfth Keeper Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Belle Malory

  Kennedy sat up and looked at Reagan. There was a distance in her expression and demeanor that wasn’t there before. Sunlight streamed through the front window, and her eyes shimmered for a split second. It was obvious those words held a deeper meaning than what reflected off the surface.

  She knew how much Dean meant to Reagan, and Kennedy could only imagine what her heart must be going through. They were supposed to be a forever couple; the childhood sweethearts that grew old together and shared the love others only wished they could find. Losing that kind of forever must be…shattering. Her own issues didn’t compare to whatever Reagan was feeling, and it made her feel a little silly for sitting here whining about them.

  Kennedy considered asking about the break-up again, but wondered if it was a bad idea. Happy Reagan was a gossipy chatterbox, and you couldn’t shut her up. But sad Reagan was the complete opposite. She was private and internalized everything. If she wanted to talk about it, she would do it in her own time. Hopefully.

  “Did you know that Mom is dating Jake?” Hints of humor replaced the sorrow in Reagan’s face, and the mood switched to a lighter one.

  “Are you serious?”

  Reagan nodded, her lips curling slightly.

  “For how long? She never told me they were dating.”

  “Don’t take it personally. She’s hiding it from everyone. Even me.”

  Kennedy sat up a little straighter, trying to read Reagan’s expression. She didn’t look like she was joking. Still, that comment needed immediate clarification. “What do you mean she’s hiding it?”

  Reagan giggled. “She gets all dressed up, does her hair and makeup and then asks me to watch Linc. After that, she’ll make up some terrible lie about where she’s going—as if she expects I’ll buy that crap. She even used grocery shopping as her excuse once while she was wearing heels.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Laughter erupted deep within her gut. “So how do you know it’s Jake she’s seeing? It could be anyone.” Please, God, let it be anyone else.

  “Because I’ve seen him sneaking around the hedges to meet her. They act like high schoolers, I swear.” Reagan sighed as if she were the adult in this family. “Well, also Hunter told me,” she admitted. “But I would’ve figured it on my own eventually. Watching the two of them is like a soap opera in action. I can’t tell you how many things around the house Jake has come over to allegedly fix. Let’s just say I think more than a few pipes have been cleaned around here.”

  Kennedy was torn between laughing and groaning. She turned her head into the back of the sofa. “That’s disgusting, Rea. I did not want that image in my head.”

  “Hey, at least you haven’t been around to watch the whole thing play out. Think about what I’ve had to deal with.”

  “But it’s Jake.” Kennedy squeezed her eyes shut. “Hunter’s dad. That’s too weird for me to process.”

  “Tell me about it.” Reagan laughed some more, and after she quieted, she said, “But she seems happy. It’s nice to see her so happy.”

  Kennedy tried to feel happy for her mom, she really did. And then another image popped up of the two of them kissing—of Ashley kissing the father of the same son who kissed her only an hour ago—and she felt all sorts of skeevy. “Nope. I can’t handle it.”

  “You’re gonna have to,” Reagan warned her. “Because I doubt Jake’s going anywhere anytime soon. Why do you think Mom hasn’t bought a new house yet?”

  So that’s why she’d been so reluctant to move. And all this time, Kennedy assumed her mom preferred to live a life of humility, the sneaky little harlot. She thought about confronting Ashley, but quickly changed her mind. Keeping that stuff under wraps was best for everyone. Otherwise, Jake might be coming over for dinner, staying the night and whatnot. It was bad enough knowing about it. She certainly didn’t want to witness it too.

  Later that night, Reagan nudged Kennedy at the dinner table. She looked up and saw her sister point towards Ashley staring at her brace with a stupid grin on her face.

  Kennedy forced her bite of enchilada down with a hearty gulp of water, and Reagan shot her an I told you so look.

  There was no denying the grin on her mom’s face was one of a smitten woman.

  Damn.

  She’d been hoping Reagan got it all wrong somehow. “Mom,” Kennedy said, forcing her voice to sound sugary sweet. “No brace time at the table, remember? You should, since you came up with that rule.”

  All starry-eyed, her mom looked up and didn’t even come back with a smart-ass reply. “Of course, sweetie. How’s the food?”

  Kennedy slowly set her glass down as Ashley continued to softly chuckle over whatever text popped up next on her brace. She turned to Reagan and whispered, “Did she even hear me?”

  “Not above the sound of the birds whistling sweet love songs.”

  “Oh that’s real cute.” She narrowed her eyes on her sister, who wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

  Reagan cupped a hand around her mouth. “You’re just mad at the possibility of Hunter becoming your b-r-o-t-h-e-r.” She spelled it out as if Ashley was paying them any amount of attention.

  Kennedy opened her mouth and closed it again.

  Oh dear God.

  That wasn’t actually a possibility, was it?

  Reagan’s eyes glinted as she silently shook with laughter, and it pissed Kennedy off. Not because Reagan was laughing at her, but because she might be right.

  ~ ~

  Kennedy got little sleep lying in her bed that night. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw something worse than the last—Phoenix canoodling with Hephsa Hannigan. Reporters chanting while Hunter kissed her. Ashley and Jake in a church, saying their I dos. And each time, Kennedy’s eyes shot open, a rush of invisible needles pricking her clammy skin.

  Man what she wouldn’t do for a sleep agent right now and the magical mist sprayed at the click of a button.

  She’d pretty much given up on any chance of sleep when her wrist buzzed. She stared at Hunter’s picture for a few seconds before answering. Dragging this out hadn’t worked very well so far. “Hi, Hunt.”

  “Good, you’re awake,” he said in a low voice. “Come to the window.”

  Kennedy crawled out of bed, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure Reagan was asleep. Soft snores came from her direction, and envy wrenched her insides at how easily sleep came for her sister.

  She adjusted her tank top, took a few deep breaths, and slid the drapes apart. Hunter stood across from her, only a few feet away, staring out his own bedroom window. Their close proximity used to make her feel grateful. Made late night conversations a heck of a lot easier.

  “Hey.” He wore a pair of pajama pants—and that was it—clearly comfortable with showing off his newly defined body.

  She fidgeted with the ends of her hair nervously. “Hey.”

  “I wanted to talk about today.”

  Well, that canceled any ideas she had about avoiding this conversation.

  “Okay.”

  “About what happened…” He rubbed the back of his head, looked up at the ceiling and then back at her. “Was that…okay?”

  First question out of the bag, and it felt like a missile straight to the chest. She needed a moment to close her eyes and send a silent prayer up to the heavens to help her get through this. Whatever words tumbled out of her mouth had to be the right ones. Hunter couldn’t hate her after this.

  “I mean, it felt right to me,” he said. “But you seemed sort of, I don’t know, distant. And I can’t tell if it’s because things are different between us, or because you’re uncomfortable with this.”

  Here was her opportunity staring her in the face, but the words she prayed for never came. Instead, her tongue swelled to the point where speaking seemed impossible.

  “Say something, Kenn. I don’t want things to get weird between us.” He shifted his stance. “Is it because of the keeper thing? Are you afraid of starting something, knowing you have to go bac
k to Olympus at the end of the month?”

  Actually, she hadn’t thought of that. But it wasn’t a bad reason, and it sounded so much easier to accept than anything she could’ve said.

  “Yes.”

  Although on some level it was true, the word still sounded incomplete on its own. Telling him about Phoenix suddenly seemed so unnecessary though. Why did she have to put him through that? Hurting Hunter all for a guy who didn’t think she was good enough to call his girlfriend didn’t seem worth it. Especially when there were plenty of other reasons why they shouldn’t be together. Reasons that existed and didn’t cause as much pain.

  She looked up at Hunter and saw he wasn’t all that surprised by her answer.

  “It sucks that this happened as a result of you leaving,” he said, leaning against the frame. “And I’m sorry, Kenn. I’m sorry I was such a dumbass.”

  Hold up—he was sorry?

  “You’re not a dumbass, Hunt. Why would you say that?”

  He let out a long sigh. “Yes, I am. I should’ve known how much you meant to me a long time ago.”

  Kennedy swallowed, knowing exactly how he felt. Hearing him say it out loud was something altogether different though, and his words twisted around her heart in a painful way. “I should’ve known too,” she breathed. “So I guess I’m a dumbass, too.” And it was true. If she had thought of him as more than just a friend before DOE showed up, they would be having an entirely different conversation right now.

  Hunter laid his palm flat against the windowpane. “Why does it take losing something for you to realize how much you loved it?”

  Kennedy felt her throat constrict. He used the word love. Indirectly, but knowing that’s how strongly he felt made her wish she’d never been born the twelfth keeper, that she’d never met Phoenix Jorgensen, and that whatever happened that day on the porch wasn’t surrounded by circumstances beyond their control.

  Tears blurred her vision. She laid her own shaky hand across the glass in front of her. “In another life, Hunter, I would’ve…”

  “I know,” he said, nodding. His hand fisted into a ball. “You don’t have to say it. I know.”

  Oh God. He was making this ten times harder. In steeling herself for his hatred, she never expected to receive his compassion. Either that or she wasn’t so sure she deserved it.

  “Will we still be friends?” Her voice broke, and she did nothing to hide it. It was impossible at this point anyway. “Because I can’t live a life without you as my friend.”

  He half-laughed, half-sighed. “Of course we’ll still be friends. I couldn’t not be your friend if I tried.”

  Tightly wound muscles loosened in every part of her body. That was everything she could’ve hoped to hear and more. She gave him a watery smile. She hadn’t told him everything, but at least he knew where she stood.

  It was more than Phoenix had given her.

  Seven

  Kennedy sat on her bedroom floor next to the floor-length mirror, rifling through Reagan’s makeup case. It was an ideal time for snooping since both her mom and sister were out of the house today. Hopefully they stayed gone for a while because going through Reagan’s makeup was like hitting the jackpot. The case was artfully organized, containing nearly every color imaginable. She picked out a bright red lipstick, uncapped it, and puckered her lips. When she was done, she looked in the mirror, and thought the vibrant shade didn’t look so bad next to her auburn hair.

  “What a lovely little gem you are,” she said, holding the lipstick up. “I think I’ll keep you.”

  The lipstick gave her a disapproving look. “Okay, borrow you,” she conceded. “Reagan will never even notice you’re missing. Promise.”

  Vibrations accompanied a flashing blue light on her wrist. She pressed a button, and said, “Morning, Matilda.”

  “Just how much sun are you getting down there, cupcake? I think it might be frying your brain cells.”

  She arched a brow, wondering if the robot tampered with her brace and found a way to spy on her. A glance at the gunmetal band wrapped around her wrist didn’t show signs of new programming.

  Besides, cryptic comments and Matilda went together like peanut butter and jelly. There was a point coming soon, she was sure of it. “What’s wrong, Tildy? Are you still all torn up over my absence?”

  “What’s wrong?” she huffed. “What’s wrong is that either my system went haywire, or pictures of you kissing your neighbor are all over the waves.”

  Kennedy stilled, wincing. “How bad is it?”

  “So you’re admitting to playing sucky-face with the boy next door?”

  She sighed and inserted the blush brush back into its compartment. “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, check out your TV if you want to see how bad it is. You’re on almost every channel.”

  “No, thanks,” she muttered. “I was there the first time. I don’t think I want to relive it.”

  “So it wasn’t the good kind of kiss, eh?”

  “No. And neither were the repercussions.” What looked like sunglasses stuck out from the side of the makeup case. Kennedy picked the square-shaped eyepieces up and held them over the top half of her head.

  “Care to elaborate?”

  How does this thing work? “Not really.” She clicked a button on the top of the device. Illuminating white lights blinded her eyes. Dropping the thing, she blinked several times, unable to see anything.

  “Not fair of you to be so vague when I’m not there to read your emotions, cupcake.”

  Vision returned in spots, and then refocused after a few seconds. Kennedy quickly returned to the mirror. “What in the world…”

  “Are you okay?” Matilda asked. “Your heart rate picked up a fraction.”

  Tiny crystals surrounded the outside creases of her eyes. A palette of pink and silver shadows covered her lids. Kennedy touched the miniature work of art, smudging kohl liner on her fingertips. “I’m fine,” she finally replied to Matilda. “I was just caught off guard by this…holy cow, my eyes are purple.”

  How had she not noticed that until now?

  “Statistics say you’ve found an eye-dazzler,” Matilda said. “And you called me bored?” A tsk, tsk came from the brace’s little speaker.

  “Do your statistics know how to change my eyes back?” Because if they weren’t a greenish-blue by the time Reagan came home, she was in deep trouble.

  “The little button on the left corner.”

  The doorbell rang, and Kennedy jumped.

  Ah, crap. She hadn’t expected them back this early. “Matilda, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” she said, and before the stubborn robot could object, she ended the call.

  Hurrying, she held the dazzler up to her eyes, pressed the button and steeled herself for the torrent of blinding white lights.

  As soon as her vision returned, she shoved the makeup case back in Reagan’s dresser where she’d found it. “Coming!” she called when the doorbell rang for the second time. Sheesh. Someone was being mighty impatient. She swung open the door. “Don’t people around here remember their keys—”

  Her sentence cut off to an inaudible mumble of words as her gaze met a pair of pitch black eyes. “Phoenix?”

  Eight

  Those eyes sharpened in on her as soon as she’d said his name, carrying more weight than she knew what to do with. Phoenix stood there in the doorway—her doorway—towering over her.

  No words came her way as she took all of him in, from his dark blue shirt, to his loose jeans and black boots that weren’t made for Amelia Island. Dark circles lined his eyes, and his blonde hair was messier than usual, but none of that detracted from his appeal. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he asked in the low, mesmerizing voice she’d missed so much.

  She politely stepped back, holding the door open. He came inside, pausing for the briefest of moments when he moved around her.

  “I thought you were in Russia.” It was the only thing she could think of to s
ay, and despite her heart beating wildly beneath her chest, she managed to say it calmly.

  Phoenix looked around her home as if he’d never been there before. Technically, this was only his second visit, but with the way he studied his surroundings—like he was familiarizing himself with every inch of space—made it seem new to him.

  “The job ended yesterday.”

  Watching him made her feel a little uncomfortable, as if he were glimpsing a small piece of her soul. His gaze fixated on a photograph of her and Reagan when they were little kids. He picked the frame up, staring at it for a few seconds before setting it back down. Puzzled over what captured his attention, Kennedy glanced at the photo, and saw nothing mysterious behind her and her sister’s toothless grins.

  “How did it go?” It felt like a good question to ask. At the end of the day, they were still teammates.

  “I’ll brief you on it later.” He pointed to a portrait on the wall. “Did you paint this?”

  Deep swirling grays and blues made up a stormy scene on the canvas tacked to the wall. She nodded. It was her freshman art project. No one had warned her how difficult rainstorms were to paint, and it had taken her weeks to finish, including many late-night attempts trying to get the colors just right.

  Looking at it through his eyes made the painting seem different somehow. The little imperfections stood out, all the minute details most people never even noticed, glaringly apparent.

  “It’s beautiful,” he said, surprising her.

  She held her breath, holding his compliment tight against her chest. Tense moments passed before he turned around to face her. “Where’s your family?”

  “Out shopping.” She twisted the brace around her wrist.

  “Were you about to go out, too?”

  “No…” What would make him assume that? “Why?”

  “Your face. It’s all made up.”