“You just don’t love me.”
Yep. Kill. Me. Now.
He looks away, and air leaves his mouth in a panicky rush. “You really want to do this again?” His eyes beg me to drop it.
“No.” A crafty tear slips out of the corner of my eye. “It hurt enough the first time.” I purse my lips, willing myself to hold it together as a tornado rips through my insides, wreaking havoc. I want to believe that my earlier assumption was right—that this is all Addison’s doing, but he’s not giving me much to work with. He cares for me—I know that much—but that appears to be the extent of it. Perhaps he has written us off in favor of a less “complicated” life, though, how anyone could refer to Addison as less complicated is beyond me. But they share a past, which is something we don’t. Maybe I never really knew him at all.
My mind is in agony, veering from one scenario to another. I want to believe he’s doing this because he’s being blackmailed, but I know I’m most likely clutching at straws. I’m barely clinging onto my sanity, and I’m on the verge of a meltdown, and I’d rather do all my breaking in private. “I’d like you to leave now.” My voice is shaky, betraying some of what I feel. I don’t look up as he leans down and kisses my cheek.
“I’m so sorry, Faye.”
His words are cheap.
He closes the door quietly, and I stave off the storm for a couple of minutes before it breaches the wall and sobs burst free of my soul.
Burying my head in the pillow, desperately trying to muffle my heartache, I fall asleep drowning in a sea of tears.
Chapter Eighteen
I sleep like the dead and I’ve no idea what time it is when I hear a light tap on my door. “Come in,” I croak, hastily sitting up as I scrub the sleep from my eyes.
Ky pokes his head around the door. “I thought you might like something to eat.”
“What time is it?” I ask, yawning.
He steals into the room, closing the door behind him. Tantalizing smells tickle my taste buds as he carries a tray toward me, setting it down on my lap. The plate is heaped with eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and he’s added a glass of OJ and a mug of coffee. Saliva pools in my mouth, and my eyes devour the plate with longing.
He hands me a knife and fork, smiling softly. “It’s after three.”
“Shut up! Someone should’ve woken me earlier!” I attack my food like it’s been years, rather than hours, since I last ate.
“You needed your sleep, and I wouldn’t let anyone disturb you.”
“Thanks.” Bile floods my mouth as remembered heartache resurrects to the forefront of my mind. The fact he made me breakfast changes nothing. I pause with my forkful of food in midair. “It’s okay. You can leave now.”
His forehead creases. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“That’s not your place anymore.” My eyes bore into his, willing him to challenge me. To say it isn’t so.
He averts his eyes. “You’re right. I’ll leave you to eat in peace.” He turns to walk away.
“Wait a sec.” I put the fork down on the plate. “I need to talk to you about something that’s been playing on my mind.”
He folds his arms across his broad chest. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“What if Jeremy is the one who sent you the recording of Brad and Addison?”
Ky holds his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he contemplates my question. “You could be on to something. His family is close to Addison’s, and they’ve hung out together since they were kids. I always got jealous vibes off him.”
I lean back against my pillows. “So maybe that was his way of breaking you two up.” I worry my upper lip between my teeth, frowning. “Except he wasn’t with her.” It doesn’t add up.
“Maybe it wasn’t about him hooking up with her.”
“He only wanted to make sure she wasn’t with you,” I concur, filling in the gaps.
“That figures. He’s never liked me, and he knows the feeling is mutual.” He stands. “I’ll talk to Keven. See if he can do some digging on Jeremy.”
“Good idea.” I practically bury my face in my breakfast—anything to avoid showcasing my expression. I’m not sure I won’t give the game away especially when he reads me all too easily.
“Okay.” He shoots me a perplexed look before exiting the room without another word. The now-familiar ache in my heart starts pulsing out of control as he quietly closes the door. I don’t know if this will ever become manageable or if I’m destined to live with this soul-crushing pain for the rest of my life. Trying to resurrect my appetite, I force food into my mouth and down over the traumatized lump in my throat.
I check in on Kal a few times during the afternoon but he’s always sleeping.
My phone chimes, and I gnaw anxiously on the inside of my mouth when I spot Jill’s goofy profile picture blinking up at me.
I’ve been avoiding talking to my friends.
Avoiding confronting the reality of what my mum did with my uncle.
Avoiding the possibility that my uncle could be my dad.
Avoiding acknowledging my broken heart.
Ugh. I break out in goose bumps as I shiver all over.
I’m drowning.
Adrift with all these errant thoughts and feelings surrounding me, suffocating me, closing in.
Scared that I won’t ever find solid ground.
I exhale deeply, dropping down onto my bed and holding my phone delicately, as if it’s a grenade resting in the palm of my hand.
I need my best friends almost as much as I need air, and it’s ridiculous to be ignoring them. They won’t judge. They’ll be on my side. So, I force my shame aside and accept the call. The instant I see Rachel and Jill’s familiar faces across my screen, some of the churning anxiety in my gut settles down.
I waste no time filling them in on what’s been going on with me, and they listen patiently while I relay it all. The shocked look on their faces when I tell them about Mum and James, and the fact that the man I thought was my dad isn’t my dad, says it all, but they remain quiet, allowing me to vent until it’s all off my chest.
I’m instantly relieved.
There are a couple of seconds of utter silence when I finish my sordid tale.
“Strewth, mate,” Rach says in her best Aussie accent—it’s her go-to persona when she’s out of her comfort zone, and she has a whole host of humorous sayings to draw from thanks to a visit from her Australian rellies a couple of years ago.
“I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with all this on your own.” Jill smiles sadly. “I wish you could come home.”
“Me, too,” I admit, although the truth is that I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere anymore. “I miss you guys so much.”
A sound at the door alerts me to his presence. “Sorry to interrupt,” Ky says, looking a little embarrassed. “I have dinner ready, and I wanted to know if you intend to join us in the kitchen or would you like me to bring you a tray?”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I reply curtly, pointing at my phone. With a quick nod, he shuts the door quietly.
“You should take his dinner and dump it over his cheating head,” Rach suggests, her nostrils flaring.
I’ve come clean about everything with Ky, and they know he’s back with Addison now after slumming it with me for a while. “He didn’t actually cheat on me. Nothing was ever official, and we aren’t together anymore.” I’m not sure why I’m defending him per se or why it even matters. What’s done is done.
“You’re far too nice, Faye,” Jill supplies. “I’d totally give him the cold shoulder.”
I shrug. “It is what it is. I can’t force him to feel things he doesn’t feel, and I can’t shut him out. Whatever his status, he’s still family.” Maybe if I say it enough times, the truth will sink in. That’s all Ky can and will be to me in future,
and I need to find some way of accepting that.
I join Keaton, Keanu, and Ky in the kitchen. “Where are the others?” I ask, accepting a piping hot bowl of pasta from Ky.
“Kal and Mom are eating in their rooms. Kent’s out somewhere, as usual, and Brad took off this morning, and I haven’t seen him since.”
We eat in silence, everyone locked in their own thoughts. Rose texts in the middle of dinner to say the diner is closed tonight, and I wonder how David is doing. After we’ve eaten, I get up and clear away the dishes.
Keaton is sullen again, pissed this time that I chose to leave with James at the police station. I remind myself that he’s only fifteen and still a little immature at times. I remember how hormonal I was at that age and how every little thing was embellished to the nth degree. “Wanna watch a movie?” I ask him after I’ve finished putting another load of laundry in the machine. He’s lounging on the couch, halfheartedly watching a program about endangered species on Netflix.
He shrugs dejectedly and I decide to bring matters to a head. I throw myself on top of him, tickling him until he squirms and he can’t fight the smile on his face. “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
“Want to put money on that?”
I snort. “Hells, no! Your stubbornness knows no bounds!”
“Okay. Stop.” He holds his palms up. “I surrender.”
I pull him up from the couch. “Let’s watch a movie in my room. I have something I want to tell you that should help.” I feel considerably lighter after having unburdened to my friends, and I figure I owe Keaton an explanation and that it’ll do me good to clear the air between us once and for all.
Keaton makes the popcorn while I grab a bag of cookies and some drinks, and we retreat to my room. I fill him in on the situation with me and Kyler, leaving out any mention of incestuous relationships and potential half-sibling status because I promised James we wouldn’t mention anything until the test results were back.
“Okay, now I understand why you wanted to go with Dad,” he admits a little sheepishly. “But it was still dumb. You can’t avoid Ky forever, and you can’t let him drive you out of your home.”
“I know. It was a spur of the moment thing, and I’m part-blaming lack of sleep for the lapse in my decision-making ability.” I plonk myself down on the bed and kick off my sneakers, grateful he hasn’t asked why I ran out on James. I still have to update Ky on that particular development, and I’m not looking forward to that convo.
“Ky is an idiot.” Keaton shakes his head as he lines up the movie. “But Addison’s always had this unnatural hold over him. I don’t get it.”
“Me, either, but I’ll have to live with it. Now, enough talking about your brother and she-who-shall-not-be-named. Press play.”
He taps two fingers off his forehead. “You’re the boss.”
James phones at the end of the movie, begging me to come to the hotel to meet him. He’s desperate to explain, and he insists he wants to talk face to face. Once he reassures me that Courtney most definitely won’t be there, I grab my coat and meet Max out the front of the house.
James is waiting in the hotel lobby for me. “Thanks for coming.” I shrug casually. “I reserved a table in the corner of the bar. It’s nice and sheltered so we can talk in private.”
“’Kay.” I follow him into the half-empty bar, and a waiter escorts us to a small table tucked into a cozy little alcove at the back. James orders a whiskey for himself and a sparkling water for me while I take off my jacket. I sit with my hands folded in my lap, waiting for him to start.
“I apologize for last night, Faye. I swear I didn’t know Courtney was here. She charmed the front desk into letting her into my suite. I doubt that man has a job after my conversation with the general manager this morning.” He stops talking while the waiter places our drinks on the table. James hands him a fifty telling him to keep the change. I take a sip of my water, as James takes a healthy glug of his whiskey. “I’m trying to end things, but she’s extremely persistent, and she refuses to believe I want nothing more to do with her.” He scrunches his shoulders against his neck. “I want my wife back. I want my family back. That’s all I care about.”
I take another sip of my drink, not sure how to respond to that or if he even expects me to. “It’s none of my business. I just don’t want to be around her; I hate everything she represents.”
“I respect that, and I promise that if you move in here, I’ll ensure nothing like that happens again.”
I put my drink down and eyeball him. “I want to stay at the house. I was upset last night when I agreed to move in with you, but I would rather live with my cousins, if that’s okay.” I only tack that last part on to try to alleviate any hurt feelings.
“Are you very sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Fair enough, but if you change your mind, there’s always room for you here.”
I run my hands down the front of my jeans. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
He knocks back some more of his drink, reclining in the seat. “Can I say something?”
I twist slightly in my seat. “Sure.”
“Kyler cares about you a lot. I can tell. My son is guarded but he loves fiercely. Intensely. For him to say what he said in front of me last week speaks volumes.” He pats my hand. “For both your sakes, I hope I’m wrong, but for mine I hope I’m right.”
“Why?” My question comes out in a half-whisper. “Why is it so important that I’m your daughter?”
He drains his drink, motioning at the waiter with a click of his fingers. “Another round, please.”
He leans forward on his elbows. “Besides the fact that any man would be proud to call you his daughter, Faye, it will reconfirm my belief that what your mom and I shared was special.”
My eyes go out on stalks. “How can you say that? It was wrong on so many levels.”
He sighs. “I’ve spent years going over everything in my head, all the different ways it could’ve played out, and I regret it because I lost the most important person in my life, but I’ve never really believed it was wrong.” My mouth hangs open. “I’ve had moments where I’ve felt it was wrong, but, deep down, I can’t criticize what we did because I loved Saoirse so much.” His voice cracks, and the waiter chooses that moment to return with our new drinks, affording him time to pull himself together.
“I’m trying to understand,” I admit, “but I’m struggling. And that feels hypocritical, even though the situation with Ky and me is different.”
“It is different, but it could end up being the same.”
“I know, and that’s what I’m terrified of.”
There’s a lull in our conversation as we both mull things over.
“I don’t understand how it could happen with you two because you grew up together. How did you go from siblings to”—I deliberately lower my voice—“lovers? How the hell did that feel right? I just can’t fathom it.”
“I don’t blame you. I find it hard to explain it myself, but you’ve got to understand what it was like for us growing up. Our parents were both alcoholics, and they were neglectful and sometimes abusive.”
“What? Mum never told me that!”
“She was never on the receiving end of it, don’t worry, I made sure of that.” He drains his whiskey in one go. “Honestly, when they died, I actually felt like I was only properly breathing for the first time. For as long as I can remember, I was looking out for Saoirse and acting as the man in the house. I don’t know how my father managed to hold down a full-time job with such a severe alcohol addiction, but he did. My mother slept the day away, and as soon as Dad came home from work, they were gone out drinking with their cronies. I had to make dinner, keep the house tidy, do all our laundry from a very young age. I was determined to protect Saoirse from that, to give her as normal a childhood as I could manage.”
> I’m hooked on his words, lost in the past with him, emotional at the picture he’s painting. His whole life, James has been looking after others. Who has ever looked after him?
“She was my whole world. With our parents gone, the insurance paid for the house, and we had a roof over our head but no money for anything else, so I got a job in the local factory and left school. And we were happy, Faye. For the first time in my life, I could say I was truly happy.” He shrugs. “Our roles gradually shifted, and it became more like a husband and wife setup. Your mom was home from school before my shift ended, and she always had the dinner on the table. I provided for her, and we spent our evenings and whatever free time I had at weekends together. Things changed. My feelings transformed, and when she made a move on me, I realized she felt it too.”
He takes my hands in his. “I don’t expect you to approve, but I’d like to think that one day you might understand.” I peer into his eyes. “It was always me and Saoirse against the world. I thought she was all I’d ever need. Ever want. But I was wrong, because then I fell head over heels in love with Alex, and I was able to appreciate the difference. To put things in perspective. It didn’t mean I stopped loving your mom, but I was able to look back on it as a certain moment in time. It was something we both needed back then, but I’ve no doubt had Saoirse stuck around that we would have moved on with our lives; would’ve built our futures with different people. And that is why I can’t ever consider it was wrong.”
He clicks his fingers at the waiter, and we sit in silence long after he brings a fresh round of drinks. After James’s heartfelt confession, it’s easier to find some understanding although I’m not sure I’ll ever properly comprehend it. “I should get going,” I say a little while later when I notice the time.
“I’ll walk you out to the car.”
I turn to say goodbye to him on the pavement. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“Thank you for listening.” I offer him a smile, and he pulls me into a gentle hug. “And I meant what I said before that. I’m here for you. Now and always.”
Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2) Page 18
