The Rebel's Own (Crimson Romance)

by Kenyan, M. O.

  Kennedy sighed, thoroughly exhausted. “I’m happy for you. The second Ryan and I get a divorce, I’m sure he’ll give you a call.” She bit back the steely barb waiting on her tongue. She didn’t want to aggravate Clara anymore than she already was. An octave higher, and the woman’s shrill voice would be waking Riley up.

  “You are so pathetic,” Clara spat out her hate. “You were desperate back in high school, and you are desperate now. Just because you lost some weight and got rid of the ugly braces, you think he’s going to love you. You are nothing and you will always be nothing. He loves me! Not you, me!”

  Clara cheeks were slowly turning crimson. Kennedy watched, half expecting to see smoke blowing out of her ears, horns growing out of her head, and a pitch fork suddenly appearing in her hands. She waited, hoping that all that hate might actually cause Clara to spontaneously combust.

  “Why are you here?”

  Kennedy turned and saw Ryan’s massive body filling the living room entryway. She released the front door and stepped back into the small foyer, and watched as the scene unfolded before her.

  “I came to see you.” The hate in Clara’s voice had disappeared and was replaced by a feathery child-like tone. “I know tomorrow is your big day. Your first Super Bowl! I bet your fake wife didn’t know that.”

  Kennedy wanted to dispute that. She had been media stalking Ryan since his Hail Mary play won the Rose Bowl for Oregon back in his first year of college. But she wasn’t going to confess that, because then she might have to admit that she had dreamed of him every night, cried herself to sleep over him, and woke with Ryan as the first thought on her mind each day of the past five years.

  Kennedy watched as Ryan stretched out his hand to her. Cautiously, she took it, and gasped when he pulled her into his side. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, then a kiss on the lips, and rested his hand on her belly.

  “How is my little girl doing?” he murmured into her ear.

  “Uhmmm… fine,” she said, confused. It was way too soon to know the baby’s sex yet, but she’d play along. Kennedy watched as Clara’s eyes grew wide then reduced to slits. Ryan was completely ignoring Clara.

  “And my little boy?”

  “He’s taking a nap. He had a rough morning.” When Kennedy saw the flash of concern in Ryan’s eyes, she knew it was genuine, and for a second, as he looked towards the stairs, it was like his mind had left the room.

  “I got jerseys for the both of you.”

  Kennedy watched as Ryan pulled out two bright red jerseys from his gym bag. He held them up so she could see that on the back they read “Carville” with his number six below. Lost for the appropriate words she mumbled, “Thanks.”

  “What about mine?” Clara chirped up.

  Her husband finally turned his attention back to the other woman, scowling. “Why are you here?”

  • • •

  Ryan felt the blood boil and rush through his veins as the rage built inside him. He already knew he was going to have a tough day at home. He didn’t need this on top of everything else.

  “You need to leave Clara,” he barked.

  “Ryan, lower your voice,” Kennedy hushed him. “Riley is still asleep.”

  Ryan bit back his retort and focused his anger on the intruder. “Clara, please, I am exhausted. My son is going to be up in a few minutes. I want to lie down before that happens.”

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be playing house.”

  Ryan watched as Clara sashayed towards him, her hands reaching out and smoothing over his chest. He was about to shove her away when he heard Kennedy snort. A sly grin crept over his face as Kennedy’s irritated look as jealousy began to rear its ugly head. Well, good. He was glad she was jealous. At this point, he would do anything to get a sliver of emotion from Kennedy.

  “I am a husband and a father to two children. I’m not playing house.” Ryan grabbed Clara’s hands and pushed them back. “This is my life now, and I love my life.”

  “I know you bought this house for me. This was supposed to be our life—you the football star and me, the wife of a football star.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Ryan smiled once more when he heard Kennedy swear under her breath.

  “This is my wife’s house. Kennedy is happy just being married to Ryan Carville and being the mother of my children.” Taking a step back, he showed Clara the way out. “Please leave. As you said, tomorrow is a big day for this family. I’d appreciate your support.”

  She finally exited and Ryan leaned back on the door, after he had made sure it was locked. He let out a sigh, exhaling all the stress that Clara had brought with her and relaxing his body. He looked at Kennedy, and noticed that she was watching him too. Her jaws clenched and her fingers twisted around each other. They had only been together for three weeks but he already knew her tell signs. She had something on her mind.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” she murmured as she begun to walk away from him.

  “Just tell me.”

  She paused, then straightened her spine. “I hope you won’t toss me out like that when you are done with me.”

  Ryan took a step back to steady himself. When the shock dissolved, he let out a bark of laughter, “You are worried? I’m worried because I know that you will leave with both my children once you are through using me.”

  “Using you? Using you! You were the one who used me in high school! You almost destroyed my life.”

  “I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT THAT!” Ryan took a deep breath to steady his temper. He was tired of having his past mistakes thrown back in his face. “When your mother gets here, we need to sit down and talk about high school, about that stupid game, that night and where we want this relationship to go. I can’t keep trying to move forward when you have a death grip on the past.”

  Ryan took a step back. If it weren’t his house, he’d probably be walking out right now. He studied Kennedy and wondered why he was still here with her. His eyes dropped to her already bulging belly and that was where he found his answer. He was going to stay home and be the dutiful husband, because he was a father now. He took a step towards Kennedy, but paused when she took a step back. Staring into her eyes, he didn’t let the eye contact break until he had his hands gently placed on her belly.

  In a low murmur, he said, “I’m sorry. Look, you can talk about the past all you want…I accept that I was part of that nasty game, I apologize.” A sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders drooped. “But in here…and upstairs…they are the reason I have a future. A future looking after them and if you will let me… a future taking care of you.”

  “I don’t need—” Kennedy tried to step out of his embrace, but Ryan held her tighter.

  “You probably will never forgive me. And I must be an idiot for sticking in a marriage with someone who loathes me. But I want to be in this marriage and in this family.”

  Silence answered him at first, and then Kennedy quietly said, “I don’t.”

  Pain shot through his rib cage and sliced his heart. He wasn’t wanted, when it mattered the most, he wasn’t wanted.

  But he knew he still had Kennedy for a while. She wouldn’t leave until the baby was born, until Riley recovered from the transplant. So he had time to figure out a way to keep her with him forever. At first, it had been his remorse and a need for family that drove him. But he cared for Kennedy too. When they weren’t fighting, there were good times. She reminded him of that girl he’d met so long ago who’d captivated him with her wit and her enthusiasm.

  How was he supposed to tell her that he had fallen in love with her? That he had started falling for her when he met her at the hotel bar and she had set him free. How was he supposed to explain how he felt for her as a woman not just as the mother of his children? Somehow, someday he would find the right words, but now wasn’t the time.

  “How is Riley today?” Ryan wasn’t giving up, but he knew when to pause.

  “The nausea finally let up.
He finished his lunch. I think he’s ready for the transplant.”

  “Tomorrow, after the game, the doctor is going to admit us both. You’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get too tired at the stadium.”

  “We aren’t going.”

  Ryan was disappointed, but he had expected her to say that. It would have shocked him if she had agreed to go. There was nothing left for him to say. He went upstairs to his son’s room and just lay next to him, letting his breathing sync to his boy’s light rhythms. Before long, he was fast asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Not now!” Ryan groaned in response to his shrilling phone. It had to be Matt. He turned away from it, but no matter what he did he couldn’t tune it out. The ringtone was then followed by the soft thuds of little feet. He was in Riley’s room and he was going to let the five-year-old answer the phone for him. Let Matt contend with Riley’s twenty-one questions for once.

  “Hello, yeeeessss.” Ryan laughed at Riley’s end of conversation. He wondered what Matt must have been saying just then. “Uh-huh, Uhmmm, No, you are not.”

  Just then Kennedy walked into the room, Riley’s pajamas over her shoulder. “He’s on your phone.”

  “I know,” he said, with a forced smile. “I thought I’d let him torture Matt for a little while.”

  “What if isn’t Matt?”

  Ryan hadn’t thought about that. “Buddy, who’s on the phone?”

  “Some woman who says her name is Mrs. Carville. But I’m telling her that the only Mrs. Carville I know is my mom, and she’s right here with me,” he said innocently.

  Ryan jumped off the bed in a panic. Why, would his mother be calling him? He slapped his hand on his forehead. “I was supposed to pick them up at the airport.”

  “Pick who up?”

  “My parents. They’re coming in for the Super Bowl.” He looked around the room for a full minute before he realized he was in Riley’s room. “I need shoes, my keys! Is your mother here?”

  “She arrived almost three hours ago.”

  “Oh, great!” He swore. Their house wasn’t as big as he would have liked it to be at that moment. They had four rooms and Rebecca had just taken the last one. “My parents wanted to stay here with me, since they’ve never seen the new house.”

  “Go brush your teeth, buddy,” Kennedy instructed Riley. Once he was out of the room she closed the distance between them in three furious steps. “You want me to ask my mother to leave?”

  “No, but we are going to have to do something about the sleeping arrangement.” Ryan sighed. He certainly wouldn’t mind sharing a room with Kennedy. It would definitely be preferable to a conversation with his parents about why his wife was sleeping in a separate room.

  Although he hadn’t even told them he was married. Whoops.

  “Kennedy, the thing is—”

  “Your parents don’t know you are married?” she cut him off, her voice tight with tension. “Let me guess, they also don’t know you have a five-year-old son who has leukemia or that you have a baby on the way.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to overload you with my family when we have so much on our plate.” He hoped she would understand.

  “Right,” she said. “It’s not that you’re embarrassed by us or anything.”

  “Of course not,” he almost barked. He took a deep breath. It seemed like ever since he married Kennedy he had been using his breathing exercises a lot. The only reason he got so mad and so hurt was because he loved her. “Time out. Let’s not fight. Let’s just talk.”

  “Hummph!”

  He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I need my phone. Riley!”

  • • •

  “Mama, you need to help me out.”

  Kennedy had come up with the big idea of letting Ryan’s parents have her room, while she secretly shared with Riley. She didn’t want Ryan to have to explain that the reason why they’d married was just so that she would have access to his money. She wasn’t a gold digger; she was just a single—well, formerly single—mother who needed help for her son. But they wouldn’t necessarily see it that way.

  Now she needed her mother’s help to remove all her stuff from her room and move them to Ryan’s room—for appearance’s sake—in under an hour. Plus, they needed to change the linens and probably vacuum the thick black carpet.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kennedy froze mid-motion as she shoved her things into a suitcase. “Ryan’s parents are on their way.”

  “Why didn’t he tell you earlier?”

  “He forgot,” she said. “Please, Mama, can we talk about it after we move and clean?”

  “Mommy, should I draw a picture for Mrs. Carville?” Riley asked as he brought his coloring set into her room.

  “Sure, baby. Mr. and Mrs. Carville are your grandparents. You can draw them both a picture,” Kennedy said, as she hurried him out of her room and into Ryan’s down the hall.

  “I don’t like this,” Rebecca said, clicking her tongue, as Kennedy walked back into the room a moment later.

  She tuned her mother out as Rebecca groaned about how bad an idea this was. It was the same reaction as when Kennedy had told her that they had gotten married… and that she was moving in with Ryan.

  “What if you get too attached? You need to leave here when Riley gets his transplant. You need to keep your priorities straight.” She rambled on, even as she started moving Kennedy’s clothes out of her closet. At least she was talking and working at the same time,

  “My priorities include a five- year-old boy and an unborn child. They also include a house for them to live in and that comes with a husband.”

  “Kennedy—”

  “Not now, Mother,” she said, her patience exhausted. “Just help me with this.”

  Kennedy had barely finished everything when her hour was up and was just checking on Riley when she heard the front door open, and three voices filled the house.

  “They’re here. I wonder if they know the kind of son they raised,” Rebecca spat.

  “If you can’t be nice, I would rather you go to your room and avoid meeting the devil’s parents,” Kennedy hissed, as she stepped over a now-sleeping Riley. He’d fallen asleep over his drawing, a crayon still clutched in his hand. She thought of waking him to bring him to bed, but maybe she should just get him up and bring him out to meet his grandparents for a few minutes.

  Kennedy froze and stared at the door. When she married Ryan, the concept of in-laws never occurred to her. What if she had a mother-in-law who hated her as much as Rebecca hated Ryan?

  “What is he doing on the floor?” Kennedy looked up and met Ryan’s nervous stare.

  “He was coloring a picture for your parents. I didn’t notice he was asleep. We were moving my stuff in here—”

  “In here?” The shock was obvious in his tone. “You are going to sleep here? With me?”

  “No, I’m just putting my things in your room. I’ll sleep in Riley’s room.” Kennedy heard her mother behind her suck in a breath. Rebecca was getting ready to blow. “Let’s not talk about this right now. How about we meet your parents first then talk about this when they are asleep?”

  Ryan nodded, then asked, “What about Riley?”

  “Pick him up for me please. I don’t have the strength.” The only thing Kennedy wanted to do was crawl into bed, and delay the farce she and Ryan had to put on for his parents.

  “Is anybody there?”

  “We should go. Riley, baby, wake up. Time to meet your grandparents.” Kennedy gently shook Riley awake as Ryan gathered him into his arms.

  “Come on, buddy, open your eyes, just for a moment.”

  Riley groaned then whimpered.

  “I feel like such a bully trying to wake him up,” Ryan said.

  “Think of it as payback for all the times he’s woken us up,” Kennedy added, as she picked up Riley’s picture from the floor. “Maybe we can introduce them to their unconscious grandson and hope the picture
will suffice.”

  Kennedy followed Ryan out as he headed down the stairs to the living room. She watched as the weight of Riley in Ryan’s arms stressed his shoulder and back muscles. She wished she could reach out and sneak her fingers under his shirt and feel the muscles built up from his active football regimen. He was sexy, and the way his ass fit snug in his jeans turned the temperature of her blood to boil. She wished they still had sex. But then that was her fault. She had set the rules.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t break them.

  “Who’s this?” Mrs. Carville’s melodic voice filled the air.

  Riley’s eyes opened and his head lifted from his father’s shoulder.

  “Daddy, you’re home.”

  “I am, buddy. Wake up. I want you to meet your grandparents.”

  Riley turned in his father’s arms and took in the two older people in the room. Then in his sleep-laden voice, he asked, “Are you Mrs. Carville?”

  “Yes, I am,” Ryan’s mother answered.

  “My mother is also Mrs. Carville.”

  Ryan’s parents exchanged a look. “Yes,” the woman said wryly. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

  • • •

  Ryan was nervous about his parents meeting his new family. At the airport, he had guiltily apologized for letting them find out their only son had gotten married—and had a child—from the press. He’d left out the part where Kennedy was pregnant again and Riley had leukemia, figuring he’d let them adjust to one new fact at a time.

  “She, um—” Ryan’s father stumbled over his words as he stared with amazement at Kennedy.

  “Yes, she is black, and so am I. So is your grandson,” Rebecca cut in, the hostility in her voice shaking up the room.

  “I didn’t mean to point out the fact that she’s black,” Ryan’s father defended himself.

  Ryan wished someone would shoot him in the head. This introduction wasn’t going the way he had expected it to. “Mother, this is Rebecca Bailey and this is—”