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

by Siobhan Davis

  “But you need to be with her,” I say in a voice devoid of emotion. It’s not like I haven’t come to the same conclusion for similar yet different reasons.

  “Only as a co-parent. I haven’t changed my mind, and I made it very clear that I will support her during the pregnancy, but I will not be her fuck buddy or her boyfriend or her fiancé. I told her there is no future for us except where the child is concerned.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  His big blue eyes penetrate mine, stabbing deep, like he wants to imprint these words on my brain. “This doesn’t have to change anything between you and me. I know it will be stressful, but we can get through it, and maybe she’ll back down when she sees how serious I am about you.”

  I deliberately ignore his comment. The truth is, this changes everything for me. “You’re accepting this a lot easier than I expected,” I truthfully say because he was so angry earlier and now he seems resigned to the fact.

  His lips tug up at the corner. “Full disclosure. I’m high as a fucking fairy. And before you go off on me, it’s the only way I could calm down. My heart was going crazy, and I thought I might actually have a coronary.” He drops my face, resting his head in his hands. “I’m not ready to be a father, Pres. I can barely take care of myself. What fucking good would I be to a child?” He lifts his head, looking sideways at me. “Am I a bad person for praying that the kid isn’t mine?”

  The tortured look in his eyes twists my insides into knots, and I cup the side of his face. “No, Kent. That just makes you human.”

  His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat, and I scoot in closer, circling my arms around him. “I’m sorry she is doing this to you and I’m sorry for what I’m about to say because I want to be there for you, Kent. I truly do. But I can’t.” Pain presses down on my chest, making breathing difficult.

  “Why not?” he asks, his spine stiffening underneath me.

  I slide away from him, needing space before I admit this. “Because it’s too painful for me.” I stand, pacing the floor. “Because it will be a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.”

  He climbs to his feet, scrutinizing my face. “What don’t I know?”

  Tears roll unbidden down my face. “I had a baby,” I whisper. “When I was nineteen.”

  “What?” Shock splays across his face as he stares at me.

  “She died,” I admit over a sob. “Tillie died in my arms, and I’ve never gotten over it. Or the fact I might not be able to have any more kids.” I swipe at my tears. “So, don’t you see? I can’t stand by your side while you support some other woman who could be pregnant with your kid. And I can’t tell you to let her go through this alone either, because I might never be able to give you any babies and I won’t deprive you of the experience, because to do so would only ruin us in the long-term anyway.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Kent

  It takes me a few moments to recover from the initial shock of her confession. The booze and drugs in my system aren’t helping either. But I’m not losing Presley over this. I can’t. I need her like I need air to breathe. “What happened to Tillie?” I ask, needing to understand so I can talk her out of her objections.

  She sniffs, dropping to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of me. I slide off the couch, adopting the same pose, urging her to explain with my eyes.

  “I got pregnant by accident,” she says, staring off into space. “And I was fucking terrified because Chris and I had only been living on our own for eight months and things were already bad.” She looks down at the floor, knotting and unknotting her hands. “He was either high or drunk most of the time, and he’d just been fired from his job.”

  When she lifts her head, her eyes are flooded with tears, and I want to pull her into my arms, but I’m afraid to touch her because I’ve never seen her this fragile and I don’t know what to do. “The pregnancy was stressful even though Rafe, my boss, was really great, and Ford and Imogen were amazing. Chris regularly failed to show up for my appointments, so Mo came to every single one.” Her smile is sad. “Kady was only five then, and it wasn’t easy for Mo to get a sitter, but she never missed a single appointment. She was my rock.”

  Tears roll down her face, and I lean forward, brushing them away with my thumbs.

  “I went into early labor at twenty-four weeks. The usual odds for babies born that early is fifty-fifty, but Tillie had a congenital heart defect that lessened her chances.” A sob splinters the air, and pain radiates across my chest. “She lived for three days.” Her eyes are swimming in tears. “I have never prayed as hard as I prayed those three days, but it was all in vain. She took her last little breath in my arms. Chris was with me, and whatever shreds of humanity he was clinging to died that day as well. That was the day I lost both of them.”

  She sniffs, wiping the tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her wrinkled dress. When she stares at me, it’s like she’s staring right through me. “We had nothing to say to one another after that. We buried our daughter, and he moved out the next day. I didn’t see him for over a year, and at first, I refused to have anything to do with him because he fucking left me to deal with the fallout by myself.”

  Anger replaces her tears. “I was a total mess. I threw myself into work, taking every available shift, just so I wouldn’t think about it. I wouldn’t talk about Tillie or Chris, and I still haven’t processed it all.” Tears flood her eyes again, and I can barely breathe over the agony pressing down on my chest.

  “It still hurts, Kent.” She slaps a hand over her chest, right where her heart is. “I still can’t look at babies without remembering how I lost mine. Tillie would’ve been six now, and anytime I see kids of a similar age, it guts me all over again.” She buries her face in her hands, and her entire body heaves as she sobs, propelling me into action.

  I crawl to her side, pulling her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her, holding her tight, wishing I could absorb some of her pain. “I’m so sorry, baby.” I dust kisses into her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry that happened to you.”

  “Worst of all is the knowledge I might never be able to conceive again,” she adds, fisting my shirt, her words slightly muffled. “They discovered a tumor on one of my fallopian tubes. That type of cancer is rare, especially in young women. They removed the damaged tube, and while they’ve said it’s not impossible to get pregnant, it’s going to be harder. Plus, I had to have other treatment to ensure the cancer was gone, and that could’ve affected my fertility.”

  “It doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” I say, brushing hair out of her face. “And we can hire the best specialists and get the best advice when the time comes.”

  I can’t believe we’re talking about this and I’m not freaking the fuck out. Thank you, Mary J.

  “Nothing is guaranteed, and I don’t know if I could cope with the stress. In my head, the two things are connected. I don’t know if I’ll ever be mentally able for another pregnancy.”

  “Did the doctors say the cancer caused you to go into early labor?” I softly ask.

  “They said it’s unlikely, but they couldn’t rule it out either.” She rests her head on my shoulder, slumping against me in defeat.

  “We don’t need to worry about that now.” I attempt to reassure her. “And there are other things we can do if you can’t get pregnant.”

  “You say that now, but you don’t know how you’ll feel in the future.”

  “Honestly, Pres. I’ve never been too sure whether I wanted kids at all,” I truthfully admit.

  “Why not?” she asks, peering up at me with her big tear-filled eyes.

  I shrug, not wanting to get into it. “I have my reasons.”

  “Well, you might not have any choice in the matter now,” she says in a cold tone.

  Anger bubbles under the surface of my skin because Presley could be right. If this baby is mine, I’m a dad whether I want to be or not. I could never leave any child of mine to grow up without a father, so if i
t’s true, I guess I’ll have to man up and grow up.

  “No,” I agree. “But there is a choice when it comes to us, and I want you with me, Presley. This hasn’t altered how I feel about you. You’re too important to me. And think about it. If this baby is mine, you can help me raise him or her.”

  She goes rigid in my arms before pushing me away, scooting back like I’ve just shot her. “Have you not heard a word I just said?” she yells.

  “Of course, I have. But this might help. And if you want to talk to a grief counselor, I can pay for it or—”

  She hops up, and more tears flow down her face. “Get out.” She points at the door. “Get out and stay out, Kent. You can’t offer me some other woman’s baby like that will paper over the cracks in my heart. My daughter cannot be replaced with someone else’s child!” she screams in between crying.

  I scramble to my feet, moving cautiously toward her. “I didn’t mean to imply you could. I just—”

  “It doesn’t matter, Kent.” She rubs at her eyes. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m sorry, but this is where we draw the line.”

  “Presley, please. I know my life is a train wreck right now, and you’re upset with good reason. I’ll give you some time to think about it, but please don’t push me away.” This girl is all I’m holding on to right now, and if I lose her, I will lose my shit.

  “I can’t be there for you, Kent. I wish I could, but I just can’t go through all this again. I can’t relive the memories because it will kill me.”

  “So, that’s it, huh?” I fold my arms, letting anger replace the panic and fear flowing through my veins. “You’re gonna cut me loose just like that.” I close the gap between us, leaning into her gorgeous face, hating that I ever met her. “I don’t know if it’s my baby, and you won’t even wait for paternity to be determined.”

  “You said she won’t have the test!” she screeches.

  “I can go to court and make her,” I bark. “And I would’ve done that for you if that’s what you needed.” I shove past her, feeling way too much, and I know if I stay here any longer I will say something I really regret. “But you’ve just tossed me aside like I never fucking mattered.” I stalk toward the door with Presley hot on my heels.

  “That’s not true. Of course, you matter!”

  I yank the door open, almost pulling it off the hinges. I spin around to face her. “It’s okay, Presley. You’re off the hook. Your conscience is clear. It’s not like this is unexpected. You’re exactly like everyone else in my life who proclaims to care about me—fucking absent when I need you the most.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Kent

  A sharp buzzing sound reverberates in my ear, and I grab a cushion from the floor, covering my head to block out the noise. My phone vibrates on the coffee table, shuddering along the glass with each successive ring, while the buzzing sound grows louder, drilling painful holes in my skull.

  “Fuck off!” I yell, burying my face in the couch while holding the cushion tight over my head in the hope the noise will disappear.

  But it doesn’t, and it’s like the two sounds are in sync, buzzing and vibrating in an annoying rhythm that has me throwing my cell across the room in a rage.

  Two seconds later, a massive thud has me bolting from the couch in fright. Swaying on my feet, I turn around, my eyes popping wide when I spot the open front door, hanging off one of the hinges. A huge chunk is missing from the other side of the door frame, and the chain is broken in half, scattered across the floor. “What the actual fuck?” I stare at Keanu and Keven as they enter the apartment, making a beeline for me.

  “Jesus Christ, Kent.” Keanu’s gaze rakes me from head to toe, his nose scrunching in distaste, while Kev looks around the messy living room with a neutral expression.

  “You stink to the high heavens,” Keven says, holding his cell to his ear. “Hey, Eugene. It’s Keven Kennedy. I need a favor.”

  I tune my older brother out, still staring at the door in shock. “I can’t believe you kicked the fucking door in.”

  “What the hell do you expect, Kent?” Keanu plows his hands through his hair, and judging from the way it’s sticking up in all directions I’d say he’s been doing that for a while. “You don’t show up for class, you chained the fucking door from the inside on purpose so we couldn’t get in. And you haven’t answered your phone to anyone in days.” Tears prick his eyes as he clasps my shoulders. “We didn’t know if you were even alive.”

  I scoff, pushing his hands off. “Don’t be so melodramatic. As if I’d off myself because of that slut.”

  A scowl paints his face, and I know what he’s thinking.

  “Whitney!” I yell. “I meant Whitney. I might be fucking fuming at Presley for dumping me, but I’d never call her a slut.”

  I’ve called her plenty of other unmentionables while I’ve locked myself away in my apartment with copious bottles of JD and a variety of narcotics for company, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “Get your smelly ass in the shower,” Kev says, shoving me toward the stairs.

  “Fuck you.” I swing back around, almost tripping over the trash underfoot, grabbing the half-empty bottle of whiskey off the floor and plonking my smelly ass back on the couch. “This is my place, and you don’t get to boss me around.”

  Kev smirks, crossing his arms as he levels me with a smug look. “Fine. Ignore us. We’re the only people standing between you and Mom and Dad.” He jerks his head at Keanu. “Come on. Let the rents deal with his sorry ass.”

  I huff out an exasperated sigh. “Motherfucking assholes.” I take a healthy glug of whiskey, relishing the burn as it glides down my throat. I stagger to my feet, and the room spins, along with my empty stomach. “Keep your pants on. I’ll get in the shower.” I’d rather face Kev and Keanu over Mom and Dad any day.

  If Mom sees the state of me and this place, she’ll whisk me back to Wellesley and put me under house arrest until I’ve gone cold turkey and come to my senses. The very last thing I want or need is a clear head because then I’ll have to think about all the shit in my life.

  Like the fact Whitney has been blowing up my phone every hour of every day, leaving tearful, whiny, pleading messages interspersed with hateful, angry tirades about how she loathes my guts and she’s going to fucking ruin my relationship.

  News flash, slut: You already did. You stupid cunt.

  I might’ve actually texted that to her. Or perhaps I imagined it. I don’t really give a fuck either way.

  “Go, Kent.” Keanu pries the bottle from my fingers, forcing me upstairs. “And shave while you’re at it. You look like Bear Grylls after a three-week expedition in the wild.”

  Slight exaggeration, but whatever.

  When I return after a long soak in the tub and a quick tidying of my stubble, I discover my brothers have been busy cleaning up the place. Some old dude with a beer gut is fixing the front door and replacing the chain. Selena is in front of the stove, cooking something. My stomach growls loudly as tempting smells waft through the apartment, reminding me it’s been a while since I ate anything substantial.

  Selena glances over her shoulder, as I pad toward her, inspecting my face with blatant concern.

  “Hey, Sel.” I bend down, kissing her cheek. “What’s cooking?”

  “Keats’ chicken parmigiana. I made salad too.”

  And, she just had to mention my estranged brother, but I smother my scowl of annoyance because this is Selena and I’m incapable of being mean to this girl. “I’m starving.” I rub a hand across my flat stomach. “When will it be ready?”

  “Twenty minutes.” Putting a lid on the pot, she turns around, gently wrapping her arms around me. A lump the size of a bus wedges in my throat.

  Hugging others doesn’t come naturally to my sister-in-law because of her past experiences, so to be on the receiving end of one makes me feel special. Keanu watches as he wipes down the table, and I know if I make one wrong move with
his wife he’ll tear me a new asshole.

  “I’m okay,” I croak, timidly patting her back. I am genuinely that scared of my brother, and he’s not even the most territorial of the Kennedys. That accolade belongs to Kyler, but most of my brothers would give him a run for his money.

  “No, you’re not.” She releases me, tilting her head to the side as she examines every millimeter of my face. “Level with me. What have you taken?”

  “What haven’t I taken is probably an easier question to answer.” I shrug, downplaying it.

  “I hate seeing you like this. What can I do to help?”

  “Make the baby not be mine,” I blurt. And get me my girl back, I add in my head.

  “You don’t know that it is,” Keanu says, approaching with a knotted trash bag. “Mom’s been talking to Dan Evans. Whitney will have to take a paternity test while pregnant. There’s no way she can avoid it.”

  “She’ll dig her heels in and force you to go the legal route. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it, but dragging her through the courts will upset Faye,” Keven says, appearing behind Keanu. I’m not sure where he was or what he was doing.

  “Faye is talking to her,” Selena says. “She will get her to agree.”

  I harrumph. “Whitney doesn’t listen to a word Faye says. If anything, that will only make her more determined to hold out.” Faye has always wanted a sister, so she makes allowances for Whitney. Far too many, if you ask me, because Whitney can be a real bitch to her sometimes.

  “Irrespective of how it goes down, you need to pull yourself together. Don’t throw everything you’ve worked for away,” Keanu says, clamping a hand on my shoulder. “Your exams start in ten days, Kent. Don’t let Whitney ruin your legal career before it’s even begun.”