Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10)

by Siobhan Davis

  “I’m not taking your money, and I’m not arguing over this again.”

  “Let me pay for a nicer place.” He squeezes my knee, and his eyes are pleading. “Come on, li’l heartbreaker. It would make me happy, and I know you want to.”

  Clay is so pigheaded when it comes to getting his own way, and it pisses me off that he can’t see things from my perspective. I don’t want his drug money, which is why I refuse all offers of financial help. I’m saving my hard-earned money to pay for art class and my apprenticeship. There have been occasions where I’ve been sorely tempted to give in to him, but I’m glad I stuck to my guns.

  My future plans include setting up my own tattoo shop, and I want everything to be legit. I don’t want anything from my past crawling out of the woodwork to ruin my plans. So, I keep on saving, and I reckon within the next year I will have enough to cover my years of apprenticeship and the courses I’ll need to attend.

  “Wow, you haven’t called me that in forever.” I’m deliberately deflecting, and he knows it. I’ve never admitted part of the reason I don’t want handouts is the fact it’s dirty money because I could never outrightly hurt him like that. Not after everything he has done for me. I owe Clay so much, and he’s the only person I can truly count on to always have my back. Thoughts of ever losing him make me break out in a cold sweat. He might not be my blood sibling, but I doubt I could love any brother more.

  “Break any hearts lately?” he quips, happy to leave the heavy stuff aside.

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “You should get back with Lync. He was crazy about you, and I liked him.”

  “Don’t you read the tabloids? He’s enjoying fame and all the perks that come with being a rock star. We broke up two years ago, and he’s forgotten all about me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  I shrug, because it makes no difference now. “I haven’t regretted ending things when he got his big break. I’m not cut out for a long-distance relationship, and I’ve heard enough stories of life on tour to know he’d never stay faithful.”

  “He might have.” Clay waggles his brows. “I bumped into him in New York a couple weeks ago, and he asked me if he should call you.”

  “You were in New York?”

  “Just some business.” He shrugs, averting his eyes. “You should call him.”

  “I’ll call him when you find a girl to settle down with.” Clay has never had a serious relationship, and I’d love for him to meet someone nice.

  He finishes his beer, putting the empty bottle down on the table. “Nah.” He toys with his nose ring. “Couldn’t tie myself to one pussy. Variety is the spice of life.”

  I swat him with a cushion. “You’re a walking STD. I should make you wear a hazmat suit before letting you sit on my couch.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughs. “Tales of my conquests are vastly exaggerated.”

  “Uh-huh.” I take another sip of my beer. “I work in a bar. I hear things.” Clay doesn’t hang around Ramshackle much these days, but word travels fast in this neighborhood.

  “I always wrap it before I tap it.”

  I swat him with the cushion again. “I don’t need deets, thank you very much. Not unless you want me to reciprocate.” I smile sweetly at him, and he gags.

  “Hard pass.” He stands, stretching his arms up over his head, stifling a yawn.

  “You look tired. I can make up the couch for you.”

  Leaning down, he kisses the top of my head. “Got someplace to be. Maybe next time.”

  I walk him to the door. “Thanks for walking me home.”

  “Anything for my fave li’l heartbreaker.” He rests his forehead against mine. “You know you mean the world to me, Pres. Right?”

  “I know, Clay. You’re that person for me too.”

  “It’s you and me against the world,” we whisper at the same time, sporting matching smiles when we break apart.

  “I might be gone for a while,” he adds. “Call me if you need anything, and I’ll send someone around.”

  “Gone where?” Concern bubbles to the surface again.

  “Just some business. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

  Like that isn’t condescending as hell, but I let it go as it’s late and we’ve already shared heated words tonight.

  He opens the door. “I’ll call you when I’m back. We can grab dinner at The Pit Stop.”

  “Sounds good. Be safe.”

  “Always.” He flashes me a devilish smile I know all too well.

  “And cut your hair,” I call out after him. “You look like a hobo.”

  His booming laughter follows me back into my apartment, and I’m still smiling as I turn off the lights and head to bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kent

  “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mitch stares at me like I’ve had a brain transplant as Casey and Savannah walk away from us in a huff. He’s obviously not happy I instantly declined their foursome proposal.

  “Trust me, I did us both a favor. They’re bitches.” I still remember the nasty things Casey said to my sister-in-law Selena, and that was the last time my dick went anywhere near her pussy. I intend to keep it that way.

  Swiping my beer from the floor, I lean back in the couch, spreading my thighs wider as I survey the room with a new set of eyes. Music pings off the walls as an energetic crowd dances in the large living room. Every chair and available surface in the space is occupied with couples making out or fucking. A few guys are snorting lines of coke off the coffee table, and a cluster of girls is popping pills in the corner. Empty red cups litter the floor, and the myriad of booze on the table is in short supply. Mike and Paul’s college parties are legendary, and I’ve had plenty of good times here, but for some reason, I’m not feeling it tonight.

  “You’re in a pissy mood,” Mitch grumbles, draining his beer as he eyes the room with a trained hunter’s lens.

  He’s not wrong. I’ve been in a pissy mood since I left Ramshackle after discovering Presley wasn’t working. It’s not like Mattapan is convenient, and I wasted hours of precious party time waiting for a girl who won’t give me the time of day. I swallow the rest of my beer, gesturing at Mitch to grab us a couple more before all the bottles disappear.

  He flips me the bird, cussing me out under his breath, but he still gets up, like a good little minion. When he returns, I snatch the beer from his hand, swallowing a few greedy mouthfuls as I watch the curvy redhead approaching.

  “Hey, baby.” She drops onto my lap uninvited, and it annoys the fuck out of me. I shove her away, and she falls to the floor, protesting loudly.

  “Did I say you could sit on me?” I glare at her. “Do I look like a fucking chair to you?”

  “You had no issue with it last time.” She returns my glare, climbing to her feet.

  I wrack my brain for any recollection of this chick, but I’ve got nothing. She stomps her feet and purses her lips, and it might be comical if I wasn’t in such a shitty mood. “You don’t even remember me, do you?”

  “Come here, baby.” Mitch pats his thigh. “You can sit on me anytime.”

  She gives me the evil eye as she plonks down on Mitch’s lap. “Well?” She stares at me, waiting for an answer.

  “Nope. Did we fuck?”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  I roll my eyes, thinking about getting it stamped on my forehead—for the one percent of the population who isn’t in the know.

  “It mustn’t have been very memorable,” I add because I’m a complete jerk when I’m pissed and Presley has me tied up in knots.

  Tears well in her eyes, and if I had a heart, I might just feel bad about that. Instead, I drain the rest of my beer and stand. “I’m out of here.”

  Mitch wraps his arms around the redhead, and I’m betting he’ll kiss her boo-boos better. I don’t bother saying goodbye to Topher or Lance, wherever the fuck they are, calling an Uber and heading outside.
>
  Silence greets me when I return to my apartment, and for once, I don’t mind it. I grab a beer from the fridge and settle on the couch in the living room, kicking off my shoes. Lying back, I stare up at the ceiling, restless anxiety pricking at my skin.

  I can’t remember the last time I was home before midnight on a Friday night, relatively sober with no illegal substances humming in my veins.

  I can’t decide if I like it or not.

  This is all Presley’s fault.

  Since I met her last weekend, I can’t get her out of my head, and I don’t do this.

  I get drunk, get high, fuck random girls, rinse, and repeat.

  That is what I’m good at. Not pining after girls who think I’m a worthless piece of shit. This is all new, and it feels like I’m an imposter in my own skin.

  I consider calling Keanu, but I think better of it. If he knows there’s a girl, he’ll jump all over that shit, and he’ll be planning double dates before I know what’s hit me. An idea comes to me, and I sit up, dialing my brother Keven’s number before I talk myself out of it.

  “This better be good,” he grunts when he eventually picks up.

  “Forget it,” I snap, my finger hovering over the end button.

  “Don’t hang up! Just give me a minute,” he pleads. I hear the rustling of sheets and a soft feminine voice. Shit. I think I just interrupted him and Cheryl mid-banging.

  “Kent. You still there?” Kev asks a few seconds later.

  “I’m here.”

  I hear a door closing.

  “Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

  “I’m twenty-fucking-three, Kev, and I know how to use a cell phone. There’s this thing called Uber, and—”

  “Always such a fucking smartass,” my brother replies. “Excuse me for being concerned when you call me late at night after not hearing from you in months.”

  A pang of remorse hits me in the chest. I should probably apologize for that.

  But I won’t.

  “You wanna help me out or not?” I ask.

  A heavy sigh filters down the line before he says, “Always, brother. What do you need?”

  Emotion clogs my throat at his words, and a part of me wishes I had told Keven. Out of all my brothers, I think he’s the one I came closest to confiding in. Then I remember he was at Harvard, and he barely came home because he was pissed at my parents, and he wasn’t there for me, just like everyone else. All too wrapped up in their own problems to see I was fucking drowning, right in front of them.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, and the same intense pressure sits on my chest, making breathing difficult.

  “Kent? What’s wrong? You need me to come over?”

  “No,” I grit out, pulling myself together. “I was wondering if you could check up on someone for me.”

  “What trouble are you in now?” His voice sounds resigned.

  Anger rushes to the surface. “Why the fuck does everyone jump to that conclusion all the time?” I shout, pacing the floor.

  “Calm the fuck down, Kent, and just tell me what’s going on. I left my wife naked in bed, and I’d really like to get to the point.”

  I hang up on him, tossing my phone across the room in a fit of rage. Fuck him. Selfish prick.

  Turning the sound system on, I raise the volume, blaring heavy metal, not giving a shit if the neighbors call the cops. Our apartment is on the top floor of the building, and while the other residents are professionals, this part of Cambridge is full of students, so parties and loud music aren’t exactly uncommon. Still, it’s been a couple of years since this place has been party central.

  Keanu and I bought it the summer before our sophomore year, and we partied hard for a while. Until Selena came back to my brother. After she moved in, I put a stop to all the partying because she was dealing with a huge amount of serious shit, and being around that scene wasn’t helping her heal.

  Finding out what happened to Selena had a profound impact on me, and things settled down for a while. Until…

  “Fuck.” I grab handfuls of my hair, dropping to my knees. I can’t think about that now. I drain my beer as if it’s water, returning to the fridge to snatch another one. Then I grab a joint from my room, light it up, and lie back on the couch, nodding my head in time to the music, as I let the effects wash over me, numbing me to all painful memories.

  Closing my eyes, I picture Presley. That vivid spark in her gorgeous big brown eyes. How tempting her plump lips look when she’s mouthing off at me. The determined set to her jaw, as she puts me in my place, that cranks my arousal to new heights. All that thick, long, gorgeous dark hair I imagine fisting in my hand while I—

  The music cuts off abruptly, and I bolt upright, startled, my heart racing as adrenaline floods my system.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Kent,” Kev says, staring at me like I’m an imbecile. “There are noise ordinance laws in effect from eleven. Your neighbors could lodge a complaint for disturbing the peace.”

  “Do I look like I give a fuck?” I flop back down, staring at the ceiling like it’s the most fascinating thing.

  “Do you give a fuck about anything, Kent?” Keven asks, sinking onto the end of the couch.

  I give a fuck about a lot of things, but it’s telling he doesn’t know.

  “Why are you here?” I ask, sitting up and swinging my legs to the floor. Swiping my half-empty bottle, I chug a few mouthfuls of warm beer.

  “You hung up on me, you little prick.” Kev rubs the back of his neck. “And you didn’t answer when I called you about a hundred times, so I thought I’d come over and see if you were okay.”

  “How’d you get in?”

  “I still have a key from when I organized the security system. Guess I forgot to return it to Keanu.”

  “You didn’t need to come all the way over here.” While traffic is minimal at this hour of night, it must’ve taken Kev at least thirty-five minutes to drive from Chelsea to Cambridge.

  “Well, I’m here now, so you might as well tell me what’s up.”

  “It’s nothing,” I mumble, embarrassed to say it to his face.

  “Bullshit.” Air whooshes from his mouth. “Look, I know things are shitty between you and Keats, and I can’t pretend to understand why, but—”

  “I’m not talking about that,” I snap, cutting him off, my bad mood back in full force.

  “I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying I can be your brother and Keats’ brother even if you two aren’t talking. Stop shutting me out. You’ve barely spoken to me since my wedding, and you acted like you were only there because you were forced to be.” Hurt glimmers in his eyes. I’m a selfish prick. Keven is the most selfless of all my brothers, and he’s done so much for our family.

  “I was happy to be there,” I truthfully admit. “I’m happy for you, man. Cheryl’s great, and it’s nothing personal. It’s just…” I look down at my feet. I can’t explain to my family without telling them the whole truth, and after all this time, what’s the fucking point?

  “Just don’t be a stranger,” Kev says, slapping me on the back. “We miss you. Mom misses you.”

  “I see Mom,” I protest.

  “You refuse to come to family dinners. It’s hurting her.”

  I grind my teeth to the molars. “If you only came to lecture me, you can leave. You know where the door is.”

  Kev rests his head in his hands, and I’m betting he’s silently counting to ten. I know I exasperate my entire family. Honestly, you think they’d be happy I’m keeping my distance. I just can’t fucking win no matter what I do.

  The silence is suffocating, and I wish Kev would leave so I can smoke another joint, drink another ten beers, and hopefully pass out.

  Eventually, Keven lifts his head. “I didn’t come here to lecture you or argue with you. I came to offer my help. Tell me what you need and it’s yours.”

  “I met a girl,” I blurt, like I’m ten.

  Kev’s lips twitch. “I thought you
’d met plenty of girls.”

  I flip him the bird. “I’m not talking about a random hookup. I haven’t even kissed this girl.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because she won’t let me. She’ll barely even look at me.”

  “I like her already.” He can’t contain his amusement anymore, and a massive grin slips across his mouth.

  I jump up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Kent.” Keven stands, losing the smile. “I think it’s great you’ve met someone. Tell me about her.”

  “That’s the thing,” I say, dropping back down onto the couch. “I don’t know much about her because she won’t give me the time of day, so I was hoping you’d do a search on her.” Kev is a computer genius and an FBI agent, so he has the skills to pull this off.

  His eyes pop wide. “You want me to investigate a girl you’re interested in? Is there something I should know about her? Is she involved in something illegal or—”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that. I just want you to find out everything there is to know about her. And get me her address too.”

  “You want me to help you cheat,” he surmises, narrowing his eyes in my direction.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” My brows scrunch up.

  “You can’t investigate someone you’re interested in like she’s a research topic. What about her privacy?”

  “I just want to get to know her,” I sulk.

  “So get to know her.”

  “How?” I throw my hands in the air. “I told you she won’t even talk to me. I have asked her out a million times, and she keeps saying no.”

  “Kent.” Kev moves in closer to me, and he’s fighting a smile again. “If you’re serious about getting to know this girl, then you do the work like the rest of us mere mortals.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you think Cheryl made it easy for me after what I did to her in high school? Look at what Selena and Keanu have been through. Faye and Ky. Lana and Kalvin. I could go on. We all had to fight to make things work. If you want to date this girl, then you’ve got to let her see the real you. Show her why she should say yes.”