by Ivy Fox
It was that fucker, I’m sure of it. I just can’t prove it.
I get up to grab a bottle of water from the cooler, my mind still elsewhere, when suddenly I hear a loud splash coming from behind me. My neck turns left to right, fear gripping my heart when there’s no sign of Kennedy anywhere on the float.
“Where’s Ken?” I yell over to her brother, who is glued to his phone.
“What?” he asks absentmindedly, scrolling away.
“Teddy, where’s Ken?!”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, eyes shut, taking in the sun.
These two fuckers!
I look all over the lake only to find Finn and East on their jet skis far away while Lincoln is slowly paddling his way to us. My chest tightens as I run around looking for her in the water. It’s only when I see blond hair and a stretched-out hand trying to break through the surface a couple of feet away that I scream.
“KENNEDY!!!”
I watch my cousin splash into the water, Lincoln’s face filled with pure determination to reach her. I dive in right after him, dread making each of my strokes uneven and awkward. Near the bank, I can hear a loud commotion coming from our parents. Easton’s stepdad and my dad run to the water in an attempt to reach her in time. I’m out of breath, panting away when Lincoln finally pulls her out of the water and onto his back. He swims to shore while I do my best to follow suit. When my feet find sand, I run like hell to the bank, Linc already blowing oxygen into her lungs, while my father pumps her small chest. Tears threaten to run down my cheeks as I stand by helpless, watching Linc call out to her.
“Stay with me, Ken. Stay with me,” he repeats desperately every time he breaks free from her lips.
When Kennedy coughs up lake water, my dad pushes her to her side to let all of it out. I’m still in shock when I feel nails sink into my shoulder, jerking me around in one fast swoosh.
“This was you’re doing, wasn’t it?” my mother yells at me.
I’m so out of it that I don’t even understand what she’s saying.
“Did you think your practical joke would be funny? Kennedy could have gotten seriously hurt, you insolent child!” she shouts right before I feel her hard slap on my cheek.
My whole body shakes with anger, but I’m unable to say a word in my defense. I’m not taken aback by the fact she hit me since my mother has always been a big believer that if you spare the rod, you end up spoiling the child. No. It’s the way my mother’s eyes bore into my skull as if she hates the very sight of me that has me tongue-tied.
“Answer me!” she shouts again, and when she raises her hand to give me another blow, I just stand there waiting for it to happen.
But then nothing comes.
I open my eyes and watch Lincoln hold my mother’s wrist, preventing her palm from striking me twice.
“Enough,” he orders menacingly, placing himself in the line of fire.
My mother’s ice blue eyes slant, but I see her calm composure come back in place.
“Is that so?”
“It is,” he deadpans. “You will never lay a finger on Colt again.”
I swallow dryly as I watch the two stare each other down. My stomach falls when I see there is pride in her eyes with how he just talked back to her. I’ve never once dared to confront my mother the way Linc is doing now, too afraid of the retaliation that would follow. Yet, he doesn’t look one bit fearful. He looks ready to chew and spit her out. And to my utter astonishment, my mother seems pleased by his defiance.
“And why is that?” my mother counters with a chilling smirk.
“You know why. Colt is a Richfield. And not you or anyone else will make him feel less than.”
“You learn quickly,” she muses, unlatching Linc’s grip from her wrist.
“When I need to. Can you say the same?”
There is a death stilled silence in the air. Even the adults standing around us hold their breaths waiting to see how my mother will react to my cousin’s impudence. I’m still trying to catch my bearings when I feel a shakenly wet body slide next to me. Ken looks up at my face with unshed tears in her eyes. She rises to the balls of her bare feet and places a chaste kiss where my mother’s fingers are probably imprinted on. She then snaps her neck to my mother, her nostrils flaring in anger and disgust.
“Ken, don’t,” I whisper, but it’s no use. She’s already standing shoulder to shoulder with Lincoln, ready to take my mother down.
“Colt, did nothing wrong, Aunt Colleen. You are always so quick to pass out judgment on him without having all the facts. Shame, Auntie. Shame on you!”
“Kennedy! What has gotten into you, girl?!” her father yells, appalled from somewhere behind us, but Ken doesn’t so much as flinch.
“No, Daddy. Auntie is wrong. She should apologize to Colt. He did nothing wrong.”
I watch my mother’s scrutinizing gaze bounce from Linc and Ken in deep thought.
“Fair enough. I’ll apologize to my son if you tell me who pushed you into the water.”
Yeah, I want to know too, since there is no way in hell Ken fell on her own. Whoever pushed her over, I’m going to make sure to break every bone in their body.
Kennedy glances to the wooden float in the lake’s center, Finn and Easton now there along with Teddy and Jefferson. She then turns back to my mother, resolution in her stare.
“I slipped.”
“Did you, now?”
“Yes.”
My mother’s lips thin into two fine lines, not buying the lie that Ken just gave. I then freeze in place when my mother looks past the two blonde heads in my way to focus her sole attention on me.
“My apologies, Colt. It seems as if you’re not the one at fault. This time.”
That’s all she says before turning her back to me and heading back to the house. Her apology is as contrived as Kennedy’s accounts of what happened. As my mother’s silhouette gets farther and farther away, I don’t know who I’m angrier at most. I wrap my hand around Ken’s and pull her to me.
“You didn’t slip. You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, Ken.” Linc backs me up, crossing his arms over his chest just as adamant.
“I’m not. I swear I’m not. So just drop it, okay?” she insists, pulling her hand away from me.
“Whatever,” I bite back, pissed. “Have it your way. But next time, I don’t want either one of you to bother with my mother. She’s not worth it.”
I kick the sand at my feet, fuming at my mother’s knee jerk reaction of always blaming me for everything that goes wrong in this family. And if I’m honest, I’m angry at Linc and Ken too for trying to come to my rescue when I know nothing that anyone says or does will ever change how my mother sees me.
“She might not be worth it, but you are,” Ken states, wholeheartedly. “I’ll never let anyone hurt my friends. No matter who they are.”
“Big words for a girl who just swallowed a gallon of lake water because she’s too afraid to learn how to swim,” I tease, her sass beginning to thaw away my rage.
“Colt’s right, Ken. You can’t take everyone down who might have it in for us.”
“Oh, no?” She cocks a defiant blonde brow, her little fists placed on her hips. “You boys just watch me.”
I slam my car door, hands in pockets, and cross the street over to Richfield’s University’s preferred hangout. As per the norm, the place is packed with sounds of baristas filling up the pretentious coffee orders of kids that live off ramen noodles in their dorm rooms. It doesn’t take me long to spot Linc sitting in a booth by himself. I slide opposite him, crossing my arms over my chest to protect me from his tongue lashing.
“Go on. Get it over with,” I tell him.
He taps the table with his knuckles, his assessing gaze making me feel even more uncomfortable than I already am. His scrutinizing glower has my throat swelling up and my palms sweaty.
Here’s the thing.
&
nbsp; I don’t give a fuck if I’m a living, breathing disappointment to my entire family. I don’t give two shits what anyone thinks of me, for that matter. I only value one person’s opinion, and that’s the man sitting in front of me. If Lincoln can still see some good in me, then I know I’m not as lost as the world perceives me to be.
“Jesus, Linc. Just come out and say it already. I fucked up. I get it, okay?”
He leans back, his lips in a firm straight line.
“Easton is pissed.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mumble under his breath.
“You need to make things right.”
“I know that, too.”
He leans forward on the table, his arms spread against it.
“He thinks you blew up for no reason. But I know you, Colt. You’ve spent most of your life holding your feelings in, so whatever pushed you over the edge must have been provoked. You want to tell me about it?”
My jaw ticks, thinking that this is all The Society’s fault. They’re the ones who caused the rift between East and me. They had me snooping around, trying to find things best left unfound. But I can’t tell Linc that. I’ve come this far not to let anyone know what The Society’s true intentions are. I can’t reveal them now. I feel like I’m deceiving the one person who always had my back, but it’s for his own good. One more failed mission and I know my bleeding heart cousin will turn himself in and make it that the rest of us aren’t to blame. Like a samurai who has failed his duty, he’ll throw himself over his sword, sacrificing himself for the people he loves.
I can’t have that.
Who’s there for him, if not me?
“What happened, Colt?” he finally orders.
Since I can’t tell him what’s really going on, half-truths are all I have for him.
“I found a picture of Scarlett in my father’s study. He hid it behind a picture of my mother no less,” I explain, purposely leaving out why I was nosing around my father’s stuff in the first place.
“I see.” He leans back in his seat once more, taking all of this in. “That doesn’t mean what you think it does, though.”
“Doesn’t it?” I scoff.
He lets out a long, exaggerated exhale.
“You should have come to me, Colt, instead of going to the Brass Guild and confronting her like that. I’m serious when I say that Easton is pissed. He loves the ground she walks on and will burn it to the ground if someone even hurts her in any way.”
“Yeah, I got the memo,” I reply, rubbing my sore jaw. “The fucker laid it on me good.”
“That’s the second time in as many months that you two have butted heads. Do you know why that is?”
“Because I can’t keep my mouth shut?” I goad with little steam.
“No, but because you two are too much alike and not in a good way. Whereas he’s fire, you’re ice, and both have the potential to burn everything you touch.”
“Got it, cuz. Stay away from Easton when he’s got a temper.”
“No, Colt. Apologize to Scarlett. That will be enough for him to cool down. But he won’t forgive and forget easily.”
“I did that already.”
“Good.”
I chew the corner of my lip. “So you’re not going to ask me why my bastard of a father had a picture of Easton’s girl?”
“No, I’m not, because you don’t know either. To get the truth, you’d have to actually talk to your father, and we both know you’re not going to do that. Besides, Uncle Owen has never been that forthcoming anyway.”
“That’s the overstatement of the year if I’ve ever heard it.”
“It’s just the way he is. We all have our secrets,” Linc defends deflated.
I’m not the least bit surprised Linc is defending my old man. While my mother may have kept a wide berth between herself and my cousin this past year, my father maintained his presence in Linc’s life in any way he could—always calling Linc every day to check up on him and even taking him out to lunch once a week. Even before my prick of an uncle and Aunt Sierra died, my father always had a soft spot for Linc. He was always his favorite nephew, but then again, compared to Teddy, there wasn’t much of a contest. I was never jealous of their friendship, mostly because Governor Crawford was a dick of massive proportions to Linc, and if my father could make my cousin’s life easier in any way, I was all for it. Owen Turner might be a disloyal two-timing bastard, but he has never been cruel. Not like Crawford could be.
I hope the fucker is burning in hell.
“So, how is the other thing going? Your time with the Professor, I mean.”
“It’s been interesting.” I grin mischievously, which only ends up gaining another long exhale from him. “What now?” I complain.
“Please tell me you haven’t slept with her?”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, cuz. I haven’t.”
Technically it isn’t a lie. I haven’t slept with Emma.
“But you want to, don’t you?” he accuses, knowing me inside out.
“I take the fifth. Answering that question honestly will only get me in trouble.” I laugh.
“I thought you lived for getting in trouble,” Kennedy interjects, making her presence known and sliding next to me, all bright smiles. “What did you do now?”
Jefferson takes the seat next to Linc.
“Oh, you know the usual. Pissing people off right and center.”
“Just another day of being you, then,” she teases. “I heard Easton wants to rearrange your face. Is that what we’re talking about?” Jeff asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
Ken snaps her head at me.
“Please don’t tell me you tried something with Scarlett?” she questions, horrified.
“Hell no! Scarlett’s his girl. I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole. You know that.”
“Thank God.” She breathes out in relief.
“Why so worried about Scarlett? She doesn’t seem to like you very much,” I counter inquisitively.
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that vibe off her, too,” she mumbles, concerned, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her macchiato.
“You have to be less intimidating, sis. Otherwise, you’ll lose all your friends,” Jeff jokes lightheartedly, picking on his twin.
“I don’t mean to be with her. I have to put more effort into welcoming her into the fold. Scarlett just needs time. I’m sure once she realizes we’re on the same team, she’ll warm up to me.”
“You mean like you did with Finn’s girl? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you all up in Stone’s grill,” I taunt, in amusement.
Their sudden friendship might be mind-boggling to some, but not to me. The Southie is hard as nails, and well, Ken can be right down scary when she wants to be. Both of them have grit and an iron will to go after what they want. Scarlett, on the other hand, is more closed off. Like Easton, that girl keeps everyone at arm’s length until she’s sure of their intentions.
“I like Stone. She’s feisty.” Ken laughs.
“She’s a pain in the butt but whatever. Walker seems to be happy.”
“Now all we have to do is find someone who makes you happy.” She wiggles her brows at me.
The sudden image of Emma, biting at the end of her pen as she researches some passage on a book, comes to the forefront of my mind. I shrug that shit away before a perceptive Ken reads my inner thoughts.
“I think you have a better chance at setting Lincoln up with someone. Colt doesn’t do commitment, do you?” Jeff interjects smugly.
I try to relax my smile and not tell Jeff where he can shove his advice. Unlike everyone else sitting at this table, I’ve never jumped on the Jefferson bandwagon. I get why he’s important to Linc, but he’s too much like his old man for me to like. Montgomery Ryland is a power-hungry animal with no scruples, and Jeff is happy to follow his pop’s lead.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here,” Tommyboy coos alerting us to his existence by planting both palms on the ed
ge of our table.
Shit! Doesn’t anyone go to class anymore?
I can handle having coffee with one asshole, but two at a time is beyond my tolerance threshold.
“Are my eyes deceiving me, or is this a Dead Presidents’ reunion?” He chuckles, amused at himself. “Oh no, wait. It can’t be. Last time I checked, Teddy was in the club, not Colt. Little late in trying to step into his shoes, aren’t you?”
“Tom,” Kennedy begins to chastise, uncomfortable that her fucking fiancé just brought up Teddy’s name.
“Don’t be like that, babe. I’m just messing with Turner here. He can take a joke, can’t you?”
“If by taking a joke, you mean having to look at your face, then yeah, I’m all about having a good laugh.”
His smug smile instantly disappears, and as he’s about to throw whatever lame-ass witty comeback my way, Linc beats him to the punch.
“I think you should have coffee with your boyfriend somewhere else, Ken.”
Kennedy’s cheeks flush red as if Linc had just slapped her. She doesn’t say a word while getting up from the booth and hauling ass out of The Grind.
“I always thought Colt was the heartless one in your group. Guess I was wrong,” Jeff says before getting up and following his sister out the door.
Tommyboy just smiles like he won something and strolls away.
“The fuck was that about, Linc?” I ask, astonished.
My cousin has always taken in stride all of Tommyboy’s past provocations, so what gives?
Lincoln doesn’t open his mouth to explain and instead reaches into his jacket pocket and hands over a pale pink envelope to me. I open it up and immediately understand why he’s not acting like himself.
It’s a save the date card for Kennedy’s wedding.
“It arrived in the mail this morning. It’s real now.”
Shit.
“I’m sorry, cuz.”
The suffering in his ocean eyes physically hurts my insides.
“I knew it was coming. I guess I just wanted to live in denial a little longer.”
“You’ve been living in denial since you were sixteen. It’s time, Linc. You gotta move on. Let her go and save yourself the grief.”