Reviving Kendall (White Trash Trilogy Book 1)

by Brandy Slaven

  His words are flattering, and the last bit makes me smile considering I used the same words just minutes ago, “The best advice I can give you is you’ll never know if you don’t try. Even if you lose him, you won’t have to go through life wondering what could have happened.”

  “Yeah,” he says, “After seeing you guys today, it gives me a little hope that maybe it’s possible, so thank you. Both for that, and your advice, and for loving Lucas. He’s always been the nicer one of us, and he deserves someone like you.”

  “Thanks,” I smile.

  “Don’t tell me I’ve got even more competition for your heart, Kendall,” Leo says coming up the stairs. “This is just getting ridiculous.”

  Lincoln and I look at each other and laugh until we’re crying.

  Later, as we’re driving to Teagan’s house to pick up Goose’s truck, Lucas takes my hand in his and kisses the back like he did earlier, “I don’t know what you said to Lincoln today, but thank you. I haven’t seen him smile like that in a long time.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I tell him honestly, “I think that he just needed to get some stuff off of his chest.”

  “Well, whatever you guys talked about helped, so thank you,” he says.

  I nod and get lost in the conversation from earlier. I truly hope it turns out ok for him. I’d never say this aloud but he’s probably my favorite of the brothers, besides Lucas, of course.

  When we make it to Teagan’s, I hop over to Goose’s truck, so he can run me home while the other three head over to Mav’s. He was supposed to go too, but decided to stay with me instead.

  Just as we pull into Sleepy Pines, Lucas calls to tell me that I left my jacket in the truck and that he’d bring it to me in the morning. I’m about to tell him thanks as Goose opens the door to the trailer and gets smashed in the side of the head with something.

  He falls to the floor, and I scream.

  Lucas is yelling into the phone, but it gets lost as a thick hand grabs me by the neck and slams me back against the trailer wall hard enough to make the glass in the windows rattle.

  The repulsive smell of cigarettes and stale beer hit my nose as a raspy voice says, “Your mom and dad send their best little girl.”

  My feet are at least six inches off the floor, and I’m starting to see spots dancing around the edges of my vision. Just as I feel that tunnel narrowing in warning from lack of oxygen, Goose comes out of nowhere and tackles the guy to the floor. They roll around a few times and a gun clangs against the linoleum as Goose knocks it out of his hand. I didn’t even see that he had one. I’m useless on my knees by the door, still trying to catch my breath. It’s almost like I can’t get enough air.

  By the time that I finally get the rhythm down again, Goose is straddling the guy’s body as he pounds on his face. I go in search of my phone to call 911. No sooner than my hand closes around it, the front door flies open again, and I scramble backwards away from it.

  Teagan and Lucas kneel next to me, asking me if I’m ok while Mav is trying to pull Goose off the now unconscious stranger. I ignore the two in front of me and crawl over to him as he falls back on his ass against the wall. There’s blood running down his temple, and his right hand looks worse for wear.

  “Are you ok?” I ask, my voice coming out with a strange rasp to it.

  He nods, and I take off my flannel to put pressure against the blood still pouring down his face.

  Hugging me to him, he asks, “What about you? I think I may have blacked out for a few minutes. I’m so sorry babe.”

  I try to reassure him that he did fucking awesome as I hear the guys talking at the door. Blue lights flash around the living room and highlight the mess that was made during the fight. One of the officer’s step in and flips the light switch. Yeah, it’s trashed.

  “What happened here?” he asks looking from us to the guy on the floor and the gun now sitting in the corner of the kitchen. “I’m going to need you to get up and come with us son,” he says to Goose.

  “What?” I demand, and point to the unconscious man on the floor. “That asshole is the one that broke into the house.”

  “Do you live here ma’am?” he asks.

  “Yessir,” I answer.

  He flips out his notebook, “Who lives here with you?”

  A pang shoots through my heart, “It’s just me now. My grandpa passed away in January.”

  Looking from me and Goose to the others standing off to the side, his face turns stern, but he doesn’t say anything, “Can you tell me what happened here tonight?”

  I recall everything that happened, and at the very last of it, the stranger on the floor starts groaning and moving around. He looks like a biker, but like a biker who just got off a two-week binge of meth. His jeans and shirt are dirty, and his facial hair looks like a dog with the mange. The officers move in and have him in handcuffs before he’s fully awake. When they lift him and walk by us, he snarls down at me through a bloody face, “I’ll be seeing you girl. They know you got money from the old man dying. That’s your mama’s money girl, so you better be prepared to hand it over.”

  “Let’s go,” the second officer tells him as he shoves him out the door.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, I listen to the officer explain that they’ll be leaving an empty patrol car out front just in case, but he wouldn’t recommend I stay here tonight because of the broken window the guy used to get in.

  “She won’t be here tonight,” Goose tells him with his eyes trying to focus. “We have a spare room and my parents said it’s ok if she crashes at my house for now.”

  At the word parents, the cop nods and some of the sternness drops from his face, “Good, good. I still want the both of you checked out by the EMT outside, and I’ll need you to come in tomorrow to sign a statement if you’re wanting to press charges.”

  We follow him out to the waiting ambulance, where they tell us that Goose has a mild concussion and shouldn’t be allowed to sleep for the next few hours. The good news is that his hand is only banged up. There’s nothing broken, which is surprising with how hard he was beating that guy into the floor. My throat is severely bruised, but they said I should be back to normal in about a week or so.

  After all of the people leave, Lucas is the first to pull me away from Goose, “Goddamn it baby. You scared the shit out of me. I don’t want to ever let you out of my sight again.”

  Teagan hugs me from behind, “What he just said.”

  “You guys do realize that Goose took the worst of it right?” I ask them.

  “Goose can handle his own,” Mav says stepping closer and bending down to examine the marks on my neck in the little bit of light spilling out the front door. A look of pure fury crosses his face before he masks it.

  “I’m sorry man,” Goose apologizes as he catches the same thing I saw. “I fucking tried. It was pitch black and he hit me before I even saw him.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I assure him staring pointedly at Mav, who finally takes the hint and agrees with me.

  “Come on. Let’s find something to put across the window,” Mav says. “Pack yourself a couple of days’ worth of clothes, Kendall.”

  I want to argue and say I’ll be fine, but tonight scared me shitless. Thinking about if it had been just me and Gramps makes me sick to my stomach. So, without saying anything, I pack my bag as the three of them move some shit in front of the gaping hole.

  “It’ll have to do for now,” Lucas tells me as we lock up. “We’ll get it fixed first thing tomorrow.”

  Mav drives me and Goose to his house as Lucas and T follow behind us. Once we get there, I promise to take care of Goose, and to call if we need them, so that they can go do what they needed to at Mav’s across the street.

  Helping Goose down the stairs, I make him sit in one of the chairs, “What happened to your ice pack?”

  He shrugs, “Must have left it in the back of the ambulance. I’m ok. I don’t need one.”

  I run my fing
ers across his jawline to underneath his chin until he looks up to me, “You’re always trying to take care of and protect everyone else. Let me do it for you this time. I’m going to go get you some ice from the kitchen. Don’t move.”

  Turning his head to the side, he kisses the inside of my palm before closing his eyes and relaxing in the chair.

  Finding some Ziploc bags in one of the cabinets, I fill it with ice, and find a dish towel to wrap around it, the whole while kicking myself. This is all my fucking fault. If he wasn’t with me, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. A cold chill racks my body thinking about how it would have ended if he hadn’t been there.

  When I make it back down stairs, it sounds like he’s snoring. I shake his shoulder softly, “Babe, you can’t go to sleep for a little while. Doctor’s orders remember.”

  He makes a ‘mmm’ sound and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me down to straddle his lap, “That’s better. I definitely won’t be going to sleep now.”

  I shake my head with a smile, even though he can’t see it with his eyes still closed. Putting the ice against the side of his head gently, I tell him, “I put some ice in a baggie, and I can keep refilling it if it melts.”

  “You know there’s an icepack in the freezer just for this reason, right?” he teases cracking an eye open with a smile.

  “And you’re just now telling me?” I accuse.

  He grins at me, “You told me to let you take care of me, so I’m just doing what I was told.”

  “Ok, smartass,” I smile.

  “Better than being a dumbass, right?” he retorts. A full laugh falls from my mouth, and he hums in approval underneath me, “That’s my favorite sound in the world.”

  “Well, you just so happen to be my favorite person in the world right now,” I admit softly.

  His cheeks pull up in a tired smile, “I thought you didn’t pick favorites.”

  “I don’t,” I say running my fingers across the short hairs on his jawline that he has still yet to shave, “But I have moments.”

  He closes his eyes again, “Do you love me, Kendall?”

  A sliver of hurt goes through my chest that he would even have to ask. That means that I’m not holding up my side of this relationship with the four of them like I’m supposed to do.

  “Do you really not know the answer to that question?” I ask him.

  “Sometimes I just need to hear it,” he says sadly with a shrug.

  I press the front of my body against him until we’re almost laid back in the chair, “I love you, Grant Michaels. I’ll tell you every day until I take my last breath if that’s what it takes for you to accept it.”

  “Say it again,” he whispers.

  “I love you,” I say.

  He shakes his head, “No, the part where you said my name.”

  I laugh as I recognize the line from the Cinderella movie we just watched the other day. Only he would be quoting movies at a moment like this.

  Staring him straight in the eyes, I say, “I love you, Grant.”

  My lips find those hairs lining his jaw. It feels just as good as it does against my fingers, “I love you.” With my nose skimming his skin, I move down the side of his neck and press my lips there, “I love you.” Back up to the corner of his mouth, “I love you.” Other side of his jaw, “I love you.” When I make it up to his ear, I whisper, “I love you,” and nip at his ear.

  The sound that he makes in return could rival Mav any day of the week. His hands jerk my hips against him as I smash my lips against his. No one who looks at him would ever think that he’d be the type to let me take control the way that he is right now. I take my time exploring and devouring every inch of his mouth that I can. His hands find the bottom hem of my shirt and he hesitates like he’s asking for permission. He’ll never need that from me.

  Taking his hands in mine, I help him lift it over my head. Without giving him the chance to question it, I unsnap my bra and drop it to the floor too. His eyes fill with so much emotion as he watches me, that all I want to do is erase any doubt that he’s ever had about us.

  I pull his hands to my breasts and my head falls back as I help him knead them.

  He has me looking back to him as he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

  No, what’s beautiful is the way that his large hands cover every inch of my breasts, leaving none to spill over. Yet, they’re still so gentle. “You make me feel that way,” I insist.

  “Then I must be doing something right,” he says pulling my face back to his.

  I pull away to stand in front of him. Taking my time, I watch his eyes mark my body as I slowly take off the rest of my clothes. When I reach out a hand to him, he doesn’t hesitate to take it. Carefully I pull him to his feet, “We probably shouldn’t be doing this. You do have a concussion, and all.”

  “I could be bleeding out right here in the middle of the floor and wouldn’t change a damn thing that’s happening. I’d die a happy man,” he brags.

  Shaking my head, I grin like a fool. I’m such a sucker for his words, even when they’re nothing more than movie quotes or poems that he’s memorized.

  Taking his hand, I walk us over to the bed against the side wall. Stark naked I climb up to stand on the edge, so I can lift his shirt off without him trying to bend down.

  “I can do that, you know?” he teases.

  “You could,” I tell him stepping down, “but it wouldn’t be as much fun as this.” And I press my lips against the middle of his chest and work my way down the line that runs straight through his six-pack abs. I’ve never been one to be heavily attracted to hardcore muscles, but it looks so fucking sexy on my guys. When I make it to the top of his pants, his hand finds the back of my head and weaves into my hair. With his pants riding lower, that sexy man v is on display, and I can’t help but to flick my tongue out to taste it.

  His hips buck a little towards me, almost as if it’s uncontrollable. I feel a small tug on my hair as if he’s trying to get me to stop. Not happening. Sitting on the bed, I pull him by a belt loop to stand in front of me. A quick glance up shows his eyes trained on my every move, so I watch his face as I unbuckle and unzip his jeans. His eyes close and his head falls back as I hook my fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs, and pull them down with his jeans.

  It’s probably a good thing that he’s not watching, because I can feel my face flush with heat as he’s fully freed from restraints. He’s bigger than Lucas or Mav, which isn’t surprising, because he is big body wise. When my fingers slide down the length of him, he looks like he’s going to fall over.

  Yeah, worst girlfriend of the year award right here. Give him another concussion while giving him a blowjob. Perfect.

  I decide to trade our positions instead. Making him lay face up on the bed, I’m able to strip him down the rest of the way and holy fucking hell. It’s like I told Lincoln, each guy is different in their own way and physique is no different. There’s just something about their bodies, no matter how different they are, that makes me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust just looking at them.

  With one leg hooked off the bed and the other knee bent, he lays with his arms above his head and it flexes the muscles in his arms. Skimming my fingertips up his thighs, I make my way back up face level with where I was before. A groan slips from his lips as I wrap my hand around the base and take him into my mouth. His hand finds my hair again, but he doesn’t try to control. No, he lets me take my time exploring and figuring out what he likes. When I feel like neither of us can take anymore, I straddle him and guide him into me with a few rocks of my hips.

  “Grant,” I whisper.

  He moans underneath me at the sound of his name and his hands come back up to find my breasts again. The bruising across his knuckles sends a jolt down my spine. It was sexy as fuck not only having him defend me the way that he did, but to watch him take out a full-grown man just as big as he is. I kiss the swollen discolored spots before he grabs me at the hips and takes contr
ol of the pace. When we go over, it’s together.

  I feel like a jellyfish just lying on top of him, but I don’t want to move, and he doesn’t seem to mind. His hands skim over every inch of skin that he can find, and it sends chill bumps following after. Following the EMTs orders, I keep him awake for the next couple of hours, just talking about anything and everything. Never once does he ask me to move. The only complaint he has is after I do allow him to fall asleep, I have to wake him up again, so we can lay the right way on the bed.

  It’s a few hours more before I wake straight up out of a deep sleep. Goose’s soft snores behind me never miss a beat as I look around the room. I don’t know what woke me up, but I feel like someone is watching us. A figure steps from the shadows of the stairs and I almost scream like a little girl before I catch sight of a familiar leather jacket. Lucas.

  “You scared the shit out of me,” I whisper.

  His quiet laugh echoes around the room before he whispers back, “I’m sorry baby. I just wanted to check on you guys before I left. Feeling ok?”

  I nod and reach for him. When he sits down on the side of the bed, I raise up to give him a quick kiss, not caring that the blanket falls away to bare my breasts to him, not like he hasn’t seen them before anyways.

  “You don’t have to go,” I tell him. The bed is plenty big enough and I know that Goose won’t mind.

  He thinks on it for a good thirty seconds, before he stands up to strip down to his boxer briefs. As he climbs into bed with us, it wedges me closer to Goose who tightens his arm around me. He accidentally rubs against Lucas’ stomach and jerks up next to me.

  It takes him a second glance to recognize who’s laying in front of us, but once he does he just says, “What’s up dude?” and lays back down to snuggle against my back.