Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2)

by Siobhan Davis

  “Is that why you brought me here?”

  He looks straight into my eyes. “I know you’ve got to be worried. You get the results on Monday, but you haven’t said one word to me since the last time we were here. I thought you might need an ear to bend.”

  I groan. “Why’d you have to be so bloody perfect?”

  His brows shoot up his forehead. “Let’s imagine, hypothetically, that that’s true,” he says, holding up a hand to halt my protests. “Why is it a problem?”

  A grimace appears on my face. Why’d I have to open my stupid gob? “It makes it harder.”

  He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

  I groan again, putting down my soup to rub my hands over my frozen face. “Do I have to spell it out?”

  He twists around, his knee bumping mine, taking my cold hands in his slightly warmer ones. “A gentleman never makes the lady go first.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m falling for you, Faye, but you already know that.”

  Maintaining eye contact takes considerable effort, especially when he’s looking at me like he’s looking at me presently. Like the universe starts and ends with me.

  “And we’d be so good together, I know we would.”

  “I know that too,” I whisper. “In a lot of ways, we are so alike. We’re dealing with similar situations; we both have no parents around, and I know you feel lonely and disconnected like I do. I know we could be good for one another. I know all these things.”

  “But?” His eyes roam my face. “I know there’s one coming, and I’m fairly confident I know what it is.”

  My admiration for Brad elevates a few notches. He came here today to have this conversation with me, prepared to lay his heart on the line, even though he suspects I will always love Ky. But he hasn’t let that hold him back, and I only respect him more for it. I reach out and cup his face. “You’re hot, and sweet, and funny, intelligent, and so thoughtful, and I could list a hundred other ways you are endearing.” I press my forehead to his, whispering as I continue. “I wish I was falling for you, too. I wish that more than anything, but I can’t force myself to feel a certain way.”

  God, how I wish I could love Brad instead of Ky.

  Why is the universe doing this to me?

  Loving Brad could be as simple as breathing, but I don’t love him. I love Ky.

  I pull back, maintaining eye contact even though it hurts to see the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Brad. Maybe in the future, my feelings will change, but I still love him. I love Ky.”

  “He’s with Addison.” His voice is devoid of emotion.

  “I know that.” I kick the stones at my foot violently, frustration stealing into my pores. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t help. I know I could be fooling myself, but I still think she’s forcing him into it some way.”

  Brad shakes his head. “Faye, I’m not saying this to hurt you, but you’ve got to open your eyes. You saw them at the party, and I’ve asked him repeatedly if there’s something going on we’re not aware of, and he insists there isn’t.”

  I stand up, and my entire body feels like a block of wood. “And did he tell you that with his real face on or the mask he hides behind?” Brad purses his lips, bending down to retrieve a stone. He says nothing. “Exactly my point.” He skims the stone out across the lake.

  “If he’s your brother, it’s a moot point,” he adds quietly, and all my internal organs curl up into painful knots.

  I slump back down on the log. “I know.”

  Brad takes my hands again. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be hitting you with this when you’re dealing with something so difficult. I’m just frustrated because I like you, and I know you like me, and I wish it was enough, but I’m being selfish. I’m sorry.”

  I squeeze his hands. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need. I feel the same way, and this might not last forever. I don’t know how I’m going to feel next week if the tests confirm James is my dad and my cousins are my half-brothers. Instead of using this time to get used to the idea, I’ve buried my head in the sand, and now I’ll have to face the consequences of my actions.”

  “You’re hoping James is wrong.”

  I bob my head. “So much, and not purely because of Ky.” I look away. “I can’t wrap my head around the fact that my mum slept with her brother and that she lied to me about everything that was important. What kind of person does that?”

  “I don’t know, Faye. I’ve spent months wondering how my dad could steal from his clients and his friends, querying whether I actually know him at all.”

  “Yes!” I hiss. “That’s how I feel, too. It’s like the person I grew up respecting and admiring and loving was a fraud.”

  “And it makes you question your own identity and your judgment and the things you value,” he adds, clasping my hands tighter. “Or at least it has for me.”

  “Me, too. Even more so because my identity is now entangled with another families, and it’s like I don’t belong anywhere.”

  “I can relate to that, too.” Brad tilts my chin up, and we stare at one another as the weight of our words settle.

  Locks of his blond hair fall into his probing eyes, and as I examine his gorgeous face, my gaze fixes on his lush mouth, remembering what his lips felt like on mine that one time we kissed. I want to like Brad in that way. I do. It would make my complicated life that much simpler. As if he can read my thoughts, his gaze drops to my mouth, and his chest inflates. His eyes seek permission, and I’m conflicted. Maybe, I’m overthinking this. Perhaps I should let this happen and see where the chips land. Acting on impulse, I lean in closer, and he moves toward me, his lips tugging up into a slight smile. My heart starts pounding in my chest. The devil in my ear urges me to go with it, but the angel on my shoulder screams—hollering at me to see sense, reiterating this will only make a complicated situation even more complicated.

  Decisions, decisions.

  The warring voices continue their heckling as Brad waits for a sign that tells him he can bridge that final distance and take what he wants.

  But the voice of the angel wins out, and I scoot back on the log, creating a gap between us. “I’m sorry, Brad. Can we head back, please. I’m cold.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Do you mind if we stop for coffee?” I ask when we reenter Wellesley. I’m not ready to go back to the house yet.

  “No problem,” Brad says in the same affable, polite voice he’s used the entire journey.

  I know I’ve hurt him, but he hasn’t taken it out on me. That’s not who he is. My eyes catch something in the mirror, and I glance over my shoulder, frowning as I spot the large SUV with the blacked-out windows following in the distance. “Hey, was that the same car that was following us the last time?”

  Brad peers through the front mirror, and his eyes narrow suspiciously. “Seems to be.”

  “Crap. I thought we’d seen the last of the media.”

  “Or maybe it’s one of your uncle’s vans. We did break the rules by leaving Wellesley.”

  Brad pulls up in front of a small café, and I jump out of the car as the black SUV soars past us without any interest. Maybe I’m paranoid and it was nothing to do with us after all. My eyes narrow as I notice the familiar-looking motorbike parked outside the shop across the road. “Is that Ky’s bike?” I lift my arm and point it out.

  Brad locks the car and steps onto the footpath beside me to take a look. “Could be, but he’s not the only one with that make and model in the town.”

  I rub my hands together as we wait in line, trying to loosen the cricks from my stiff fingers. There are no seats available, so we take our coffee to go, choosing to sit on the bench outside. We sip our drinks in silence, and I wonder if his head is as addled as mine. Brad coughs. “Faye?”

  “Hhm.” I peer up at him.

  “I know you wa
nted to kiss me back there as much as I wanted it. Why’d you stop?”

  “Because it will only make things more complicated,” I answer truthfully.

  “Or it could have the opposite effect.” His arm slides around my shoulder, and he toys with my hair.

  I know what he means, and it mirrors my own thought process back at the lake, but my head is still a jumbled mess, and it could go either way. “Maybe.” I shrug.

  He scoots down the bench until his leg brushes mine. The hand in my hair tenses as he tilts my face toward his. “If you kiss me, we’ll both know either way.”

  My blood pressure skyrockets as his warm breath oozes over my face. His eyes are a heady mix of pleading and wanton lust, and it’s doing strange things to my insides. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

  “How about this,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “One kiss. One meaningful kiss”—he enunciates the word so there can be no misinterpretation—“no strings attached. If you’re feeling it, you agree to go on a date with me and see where it goes. If you don’t feel anything, then I’ll walk away. I swear I won’t bring it up again, and I promise I will not let it affect our friendship.” I bite on my lower lip and his eyes trek the movement greedily. “Your call.”

  My foot taps restlessly off the ground as my stomach does a full flip. My heart is thudding in my chest, and my mind is grappling with all the pros and cons. A kiss shouldn’t be such hard work, should it?

  “Jeez, throw a guy a line here.” Brad’s tone is teasing, but I hear the fear of rejection lingering underneath, and that seals the deal.

  I’m totally overanalyzing this. It’s only one kiss. What harm can that do?

  I circle my arms around his neck. “Okay. One kiss.” I plant a finger over his mouth as he starts to speak. “One meaningful kiss.” His tongue darts out, and he licks my finger, before sucking it quickly into his warm mouth. He can’t contain his grin as I huff out a sharp gasp.

  Slowly, he reaches up and removes my finger, drawing me in flush to his chest. He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip as he lowers his head. He plants a delicate kiss below my ear, and a tiny shiver spreads over my limbs. His mouth leaves a hot trail from my ear, across my jaw, and over my cheek, before hovering over my lips. “Last chance to back out,” he rasps, and I lift my head and fuse my mouth with his.

  I kiss him softly at first, but he clamps his arm confidently around my waist, slanting his head so he can deepen the kiss. His lips worship mine, reverentially, in long, languid strokes. My hands grip the back of his neck, my fingers winding naturally in his hair. He moans into my mouth, and the kiss intensifies as his lips move more frantically against mine. Our tongues mesh, tangling and dancing, and tentacles of desire sweep through my system. I tug on his hair, sliding into his lap as I allow myself to get lost in the moment, to think of nothing but the hot boy kissing me as if his life depended on it.

  We only break apart when breathing becomes difficult and my jaw aches from such ardent kissing. He cradles me in his arms, kissing my temple as the persistent roar of an engine distracts me across the road.

  I already know what I’ll see before I look over.

  Ky is sitting atop his bike, his foot pressing up and down on the accelerator as his ice-cold glare fixes on Brad and me. I shuck out of Brad’s embrace as he curses, and I step out onto the road without even looking for traffic. Ky’s glares at us as he slams his helmet down over his head. “Wait!” I call out, quickly looking left and right before I race across the road.

  But I’m too late.

  The motorbike shoots forward with an angry roar, coasting the bend before I can reach it.

  Brad is already in the car by the time I cross the road and haul ass into the passenger seat. From the strained look on his face, I can tell he’s wound tight. The car kicks into life with an almighty growl, and Brad thrusts it into gear, zipping up the road like the speed limit is only a fictional notion. “Slow down or you’ll kill us both, please.”

  Common sense prevails, and he eases his foot off the pedal. I look out the window as I try to figure out how to make this right.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that because I can tell you did,” he grits out.

  “I’m not going to deny that,” I admit, quietly, turning to look at him. His hands have a death grip on the steering wheel.

  “But let me guess.” His nostrils flare. “It’s still not enough.”

  And that’s the truth. I most certainly enjoyed kissing Brad, and he made me feel good, but it doesn’t come close to kissing Ky. That electrifying spark, that all-consuming craving for one another, doesn’t exist between Brad and me. At least not on my part. I can’t speak for him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He says nothing else until we pull into the garage at the side of the house. He turns off the engine, and we sit there in silence. His breath snakes out in audible spurts as he turns to face me. “Okay. You kept your side of the bargain and I’ll keep mine.”

  “I hope you mean that because you’re important to me.” The thought of losing Brad as a friend is akin to losing a limb. He means so much to me, and I hope he can tell, because I know this isn’t what he wants, and I understand how much the sour taste of rejection can truly hurt.

  “You’re way too important to cut out of my life. I’ll get over it.” He lifts my hand to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on my skin. “Friends?”

  I smile through blurry eyes. “Friends.”

  The diner is still closed and I’m at a loss as to what to do. I think it’s wise to give Brad some breathing space, and I’m going nowhere near Ky until he’s calmed down. A party is a big no-no after how the last one ended up, and I’m not in the mood for company. I’m in a right funk after how things went down with Brad, and I’m drowning in a sea of guilt and self-revulsion. I should’ve stuck to my guns, refused to kiss him, and now neither of us would be feeling like a pile of shite. I decide to hide out in the cinema room, caving to self-indulgence.

  Tears are streaming down my face as I watch the tragedy unfold on the screen. Rose, a.k.a. Kate Winslet, is kissing Jack’s, Leonardo DiCaprio’s, hands as she releases his frozen corpse into the sea, telling him she’ll never let go. A loud sob travels up my throat. No matter how many times I watch Titanic, it still kills me, like a knife plunging straight through my heart. It was Mum’s favorite movie, and I never got the fascination until they brought out a 3D version a few years back and I went to the cinema with her to watch it. It hooked me, and now I’m a lifetime addict, even if it conjures up more memories of my mother. I’m hoping that one day I’ll be able to recall the happy times without the bitter edge chipping away at me.

  The door swings open, and footsteps invade my private sanctuary. “Could you be any more cliché?” Keaton gestures toward the screen, depositing his lanky frame in the seat in front of me.

  “I don’t care. It’s my pity party and I’ll cry if I want to.” I stick my tongue out at him.

  “Can anyone join this party or is it a solitary affair?” He smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the chair and leaning back on his folded arms.

  “I’ll grant you entry if you abide by the rules. One, no calling me out on the obnoxious amount of crap I’m stuffing into my body. Two, what’s discussed at said pity party stays within these four walls. Three, no trash-talking Titanic. It’s sacrilegious. Four”—he holds up a hand to halt me, but I ignore him—“Four. I can cry my heart out, and you’re not allowed to call me pathetic or tell me to snap out of it. Five”—Moaning, he buries his head in the crook of his elbow, mumbling under his breath—“You’re permitted to call me an idiot as many times as you like because maybe if someone else says it, it might sink in.”

  I cram a handful of popcorn in my mouth as I slouch lower in my chair. Rose is blowing the whistle now and the rescue boat is turning around. My sobs transform to sniffs as I take a
loud slurp of my soda. Reaching out, I snap another square of chocolate and stuff it in my mouth. Keaton stares at me like I’m the world’s biggest slob. “Wha?” I say in between chomping.

  “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

  “Don’t care,” I mumble, loading more chocolate in my gob.

  “And you’re going to get stupendously fat and gross,” he adds, getting into the spirit of it now.

  “With a bit of luck,” I deadpan.

  He moves rows, snatching up my goodies and moving them to the other side so he can sit down. I scowl at him, and he chuckles. “You want to be gross and fat?”

  “Yep.” I stretch my legs out, planting my feet in his lap. “I want to be so ugly and gross that no boys will even look sideways at me. No boys equals no heartache equals happiness. I’m committing to spinsterhood or maybe the convent though I doubt Sister Mary will let me step foot anywhere near the place, but one can hope.”

  “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”

  “Yep. I rest my head on the armchair of the seat, making myself comfy. “And I’m deadly serious too.”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes twinkle mischievously and my gaze narrows. Superfast, he grabs a bunch of popcorn and starts stuffing it in my mouth. “What kind of a cousin would I be if I didn’t help with your life’s mission? Huh?” I try swatting his hands away but it’s impossible. Next, he smears chocolate over my mouth, and I’m laughing so hard I’m practically choking. I slide off the seat, falling flat on my bum, as Keaton crawls after me, waving the bucket at me like the Popcorn Monster. I shriek, climbing to my feet and running away from him. He comes after me— naturally—and we chase each other around the movie room, hopping over seats, sliding under rows, and I’m doing everything to avoid him until laughter gets the better of me, and I drop to my knees, keeling over as tears roll down my face.

  “Enough.” I hold up a hand as he advances. “You win. I’m not serious. I love boys too much to ever give them up.” I flatten out on the floor, bending my legs at the knees.