Kylie comes through the sliding door and stops. She’s holding a beer in one hand and a book in the other. “Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”
“It’s fine, baby girl,” I say with a smile. “Come sit.”
She takes the lounge chair next to mine. Her shorts show the length of her legs, and her tits look magnificent in her little tank top. I try not to stare too much.
“What?” she says.
I raise my eyebrows. “What do you mean, what?”
“Why are you looking at me?”
Shit, I’m not doing a good job of not staring. Oh well, fuck it, then. “Because you’re a beautiful woman.”
“Knock it off, Brax,” she says.
“Knock what off?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“You know,” she says.
I’m getting hard looking at her, and I do need to knock that off. It’s been easier dating a girl who doesn’t seem to hate Kylie, but I can’t help but feel like Aubrey’s hiding a vindictive streak under that smile. She’s a little too friendly to Kylie. Too forced. If Aubrey comes back to find me sporting a hard-on while I’m alone with Ky, it might break that facade apart.
But would that be such a bad thing, really?
“What are you reading?” I ask. I should stop staring at her, but I don’t want to stop talking to her. We’ve hardly seen each other over the last couple months.
“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just a suspense thing someone at work loaned me.”
She opens the book, but I can tell from the angle of her face that she isn’t reading. She’s staring out at the river. I watch her from the corner of my eye, wondering what she’s thinking.
I’m losing her.
The thought comes to me out of nowhere, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. We’re growing apart. In my quest to commit to a relationship, I’ve inadvertently pulled away from Kylie. She’s pulling away from me, too—more and more each day. Is this the inevitable decline of our relationship? Am I going to wake up ten years from now, married with a couple kids, and realize I haven’t talked to her in years?
I take another drink, trying to drown that thought.
“So, how are things with Aubrey?” she asks, her voice tentative.
Her question takes me completely by surprise. “Um…” I hesitate. Should I talk to her about this? What should I say? What can I say? “Yeah, you know, not bad.”
Chicken shit.
“Good,” she says. “That’s good.”
“Why?” I ask.
Now she looks like she’s not sure what to say. “I don’t know. I was just wondering.”
I take a breath. “Actually, I’m not really sure how it’s going.” At least that’s honest.
“Why not?” she asks.
This is uncharted territory for us, and I have another sudden revelation. I’ve always considered our unspoken pact to be something that protects her. But it occurs to me as I choose my words, that more than anything, I’m protecting myself. Because if we get too deep into this topic, how am I going to avoid telling her that the real reason I’m shit with women is that none of the women I’m with are her?
I wouldn’t be shit with her. Fuck, I really wouldn’t.
I’d be different with Kylie. I wouldn’t push her away. I’d cherish her, like she deserves to be cherished. I’d let her in.
Damn it, why do I keep thinking this way? This is what I was trying to stop doing.
I take a deep breath. All right, if we’re going to have this conversation. “There are good things about her,” I say, testing the waters, “but I’m not sure if this is right for me.”
“Maybe it just hasn’t been long enough,” she says. “Relationships take time to build.”
I nod, taking a swig of beer. “Is that what you think? That I need to give it more time?”
She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. “If she makes you happy, then yeah.”
“Do you think she makes me happy?”
“Honestly, Braxton, I wouldn’t know. You seem happy, I suppose.”
Okay, so if she can ask, does that mean I can too? “So, how are things with Derek?”
She hesitates. I love that she hesitates. It means she has a reason, something that makes her think. “Good, I guess.”
“You guess?” I ask.
“Well, yeah, it hasn’t been that long,” she says. “There are good things about him, too.”
“But?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe there isn’t a but.”
“I could hear the but,” I say.
She laughs. “Now you sound like you’re trying to talk dirty again.”
I raise an eyebrow and grin at her. “You want me to start talking dirty?”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Derek is fine. He’s a good guy. He’s nice to me, and he’s fun to hang out with.”
I pause, watching her. God, I want to fuck this woman. I want to fuck her so hard, and so good, she’ll never want anyone else for the rest of her life. I want to give her every inch of me, bury myself deep inside her, show her how long I’ve wanted her.
“I’m not the man you think I am, Kylie.” Shit. That’s not what I meant to say.
Her eyes are on me, but I don’t meet her gaze.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
I take another drink of beer. I need to adjust my dick because it’s trying to stand straight up, but she doesn’t look away. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I feel like maybe I’ve made it all worse.”
I expect her to ask what I’m talking about, but she just stares at me. “Maybe things can still be better,” she says, her voice quiet.
I freeze, staring at the water. My body aches with need for her. I want to scoop her up in my arms, pull her on top of me, and kiss her until neither of us can breathe.
This is wrong.
I’m trying to do things right. Neither of us are single. I might be an unbridled asshole, but I won’t be that guy.
I get up and walk inside before I do something I’ll regret.
As soon as Selene gets back with groceries, I make a bee-line for the booze.
I regretted coming here the moment we arrived. I know Selene wants to turn us into a little Friends-esque group of three and three, but there’s just no way that’s happening. Despite the fact that Aubrey is nice to me, it’s fake. I know it’s fake. I’m not sure what her game is, but there’s no sincerity about her. Not with anyone.
She’s using Braxton for his money, and it pisses me the hell off. She’s not the first gold digger he’s attracted, but she seems more insidious than most. She hides it so well. I hope he’s being careful with her, because she totally strikes me as the type to get knocked up on purpose.
I take my Solo cup—mostly rum, with a little splash of coke—and sit at the kitchen table. I haven’t seen Braxton since he started talking like a fucking alien took over his body, then walked off without another word. His voice made me shiver more than usual when he said he’s not the man I think he is.
What did that mean?
Derek gets back from his run, all sweaty and flushed. He takes a bottled water out of the fridge and swallows half of it in one go. “Hey, babe, I need a shower. Wanna join me?”
I probably should want to join him, but I’m not in the mood. Like, at all. I give him an apologetic smile. “I just poured a drink, and this book is so good.”
He doesn’t look disappointed, just shrugs. “All right. I’ll be down in a bit.”
I’m glad he doesn’t push, but would it kill him to give a shit?
Derek is the other problem. The awkwardness between him and Braxton is impossible to ignore. At first, Derek seemed fine with Brax. I figured it was because they already knew each other. But that’s changing—fast. I see the way Derek gives him the side-eye when Braxton talks to me. If he had seen Brax and I outside on the balcony earlier, I’m sure I would have heard an earful about it.
It sucks, because D
erek is Braxton’s client—an important one. If I can’t manage to keep these two relationships from clashing, I’m worried I’m going to ruin that for Braxton. I don’t want to be the reason he loses a client, but the level of hostility between them seems to be growing.
I finish off more of my drink. It burns going down and quickly spreads, making my head a little fuzzy. I decide I’d like it to be more than a little, and take another gulp. This is how I’ll get through the rest of the weekend. I won’t sit here brooding about how confused I am, stressing about the fact that I think Braxton is making a huge mistake with Aubrey, wondering if I’m making a huge mistake with Derek.
I’ll drown all that bullshit in rum, and have a good fucking time.
My let’s-party attitude is contagious, and pretty soon the drinks are flowing.
Braxton reappears, and seems to think my plan is a good one. I see him pound two shots in a row as soon as he gets to the kitchen. Aubrey, the little gold digger, changed into her new dress, and she hangs on Braxton’s arm like she needs to mark him.
By the time the sun goes down, we’re all drunk as shit.
Even Derek, who doesn’t usually drink much, is laughing his ass off with Matthew. I have no idea what they’re talking about that’s so funny, but I don’t really care. I’ve had too much rum to care about anything.
I sit on the couch, half-listening to the conversation, and realize everyone is sharing stories about losing their virginity. Selene looks a little wistful as she talks about her high school boyfriend’s attempt at romance. Matthew’s was in the back of a car. Derek’s was after winning a big football game—because of course it was. Aubrey’s was camping, and suddenly everyone is laughing at Matthew’s “fucking in tents” jokes. Braxton is oddly tight-lipped about his. I’m expecting him to brag about how awesome he was from the beginning, but he just shrugs and says something about sneaking her into his bedroom.
All eyes turn to me. Oh, god. Do I really have to play this game? I don’t like talking about my first time. It’s not a good story.
“What about you, Kylie?” Matthew asks.
I hedge for time by taking a drink.
“It’s fine, she doesn’t have to answer,” Selene says.
I give her a grateful smile.
“What’s the big deal?” Matthew says. “It’s not like it was last week.”
“No, it just wasn’t that great,” I say.
Aubrey laughs, then meets my eyes. “Well, no one’s first time is that great. Come on, Kylie. We all told ours.”
My back stiffens. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s challenging me. “Fine,” I say. Somewhere in the back of my head I realize that if I was sober, I’d never tell this story. Not here. Not with these people who barely know me. I’ve never even told Braxton.
But I’m definitely not sober.
“His name was Ryder,” I say. “Good-looking guy. Popular. Every girl wanted him. He took me to a school dance. Afterward, he was supposed to take me home, but instead he drove out to an abandoned lot where no one was around. I had the feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d taken a girl there. I didn’t really want to, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
That’s a good way to kill a buzz. Everyone stares at me in silence. I should stop talking, but rum and good choices don’t mix.
“He didn’t give a shit that it hurt. Or that I cried after. When it was over, he took me home, like nothing had happened. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. I just wanted to forget about it.”
“Oh, Kylie,” Selene says, her voice soft.
Aubrey and Matthew shift uncomfortably, but Derek and Braxton both stare at me, their faces clouded with anger. A vein sticks out on the side of Braxton’s neck, and he’s breathing hard.
They both start talking at the same time, and I can’t tell what either of them say. They stop, turning their gazes on each other.
It’s like a fucking Old West showdown on some dusty road in front of a saloon. All they need are six shooters at their hips, and one of them would wind up with a bullet hole in his chest. They stare each other down, like they’re competing for who gets to be angrier on my behalf, who has the right to try to make me feel better. My shoulders clench and the tension in the room is so thick, I can barely breathe.
“Damn, that’s fucked up,” Matthew says, as if he’s completely clueless to the fact that the two men in front of him look like they’re about to hit each other.
I need to backtrack out of this. Fast. “Yeah, well, I kicked him in the nuts later, so it worked out okay.”
Aubrey laughs again. “Wow, that’s intense.”
Derek comes over to the couch and puts a hand on my arm. “That’s brutal, babe.” He kisses the top of my head and walks past me toward the kitchen.
I need some air. Selene was the only person in the world who knew about that, and I just blurted it out for everyone to hear. I get up and head outside to the balcony.
The temperature has dropped significantly since the sun went down. The air has a bite to it, despite the fact that it was well over eighty earlier today. I wander out to the railing and lean against it, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water from the river below. The chill air clears my head a little, but my stomach is still in knots. It isn’t from the rum, although I’ve definitely had too much.
I hear the sliding glass door open and close. I know who it is. I don’t even have to look.
I turn, about to say that I’m fine. Before I can speak, Braxton’s arms are around me, crushing me to his chest. I go stiff, tears flooding my eyes. Oh god, he feels good. He should not feel this good. His arms are thick and his body warm. He’s strong and steady, and he smells like cedar and whiskey. I let my eyes drift closed, let him hold me tight, banishing the worry over what everyone will think if they look outside.
Braxton doesn’t let go. I feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, the cold air brushing across my skin a sharp contrast to his body heat.
Braxton’s voice is a throaty whisper. “I wish you would have told me.”
“There wasn’t anything you could do,” I say, “and I didn’t want you to kill him and go to jail.”
His arms are unrelenting. “I could have done this.”
I relax against his warmth, the tension melting from my body. My arms are bent, tucked close to my sides—the only thing keeping this from being a true embrace. Braxton rubs his hands up and down my back. I want to slide my arms around his waist, pull him closer. I want to bury my face in his chest and cry. I don’t know why. Enough time has passed that I’m no longer hurt over what happened. I don’t like talking about it, but the memory no longer makes me sick to my stomach. But I feel the sting of tears and my throat tightens.
Derek is going to see this. It’s dark, but the sliding door is right off the kitchen. What am I going to say to him? I was drunk and upset? Braxton’s a good friend and I needed a hug? His arms feel like home and I don’t want him to stop?
The door opens and I gasp. Braxton’s arms drop and we both step away. The cold air rushes back around me, like I just walked into a bank of fog after sitting in front of a warm fire.
“Oh, hey, you guys.” It’s Matthew. “Kylie, Selene’s looking for you. Are you okay?”
Braxton’s eyes are on me. Even in the dark, I can see their intensity. My heart beats too fast.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Can you tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow? Too much rum, you know?”
“No shit. I think we’re all starting to fade. See you guys in the morning.”
“Night,” I say.
Matthew closes the door.
Braxton doesn’t move.
I don’t know what I want him to do. I want his arms around me again, but I don’t want Derek to see. What does that say about me?
Nothing good.
“I’m okay, Brax,” I say. “I’m just drunk. I need to go to bed.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I head back insid
e and go straight to my room, leaving him standing on the balcony.
I‘m pretty sure I know what I have to do, but I decide not to do it in Leavenworth.
A week goes by, and I avoid Aubrey. I don’t pick up when she calls, and I procrastinate answering her texts. I’m not just going to blow her off, but I need some time to get my fucking head on straight.
Monday afternoon I’m done training early, so I go visit Mr. Winters. It’s a clear day, the breeze keeping it from being too hot. I find him out in the garden behind his building when I arrive. His nurse hovers nearby, and she gives me a nod.
“Braxton,” he says. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“You mind?” I ask.
“Of course not,” he says. “You’re welcome anytime. You know that.”
There’s a bench next to him, and I take a seat. We sit in silence for a while. The sun feels good on my skin.
“So, what’s going on?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I consider denying that anything is going on, but the truth is, I came here so I could talk to him. “Do you think I’m doomed to be alone?”
Mr. Winters snorts. “I think you know my answer to that. Why? Things not working out with Aubrey?”
“No,” I say. “I think I need to break things off with her.”
“Are you wondering if it’s the right thing to do?” he asks.
“Not really,” I say. “I think she likes my money more than anything, but that’s not even the real problem.”
“What is the real problem?” he asks.
I almost say it. I almost tell him that I’m in love with his daughter. That I’ve loved her since we were kids, and it’s killing me that I can’t be with her.
But I don’t.
“I don’t love her,” I say. “I like her, I suppose. She’s beautiful and we have a good time. I know I haven’t been with her long, but I don’t see that ever changing.”
“Then you’re right to end it,” he says. “Being with the wrong person is never a good idea.”
We both go quiet for a while. I wait until his nurse goes inside, then hand him the flask I sneaked in.
He takes a pull and hands it back to me. “Love is a shit show.”
Always Have: (Bad Boy Romance) Page 7
