“All right! Enough with the lecture, Mom.”
“We care about you,” Selena says. “And you’ve had us worried sick.” She chews on the corner of her mouth as Kev walks over to talk to the man at the door.
“I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I just wanted to blot it all out.”
“I get it, man.” Keanu leans back against the counter, folding his arms as Selena returns to check on dinner. “But you can’t shut us out. You can’t shut me out. I’m your brother. When you hurt, I hurt.”
“Christ.” I scrub a hand over the thin layer of scruff on my chin and cheeks. “Enough with the emotional blackmail. I get it. I fucked up. Again.”
“Have you heard from Presley?”
My lips thin as I shake my head. “She’s washed her hands of me.”
“She just needs time to process. Give her a little space.”
He doesn’t understand because I haven’t told anyone in my family what Presley confided in me. As mad as I am at her, I wouldn’t do that. It’s not my story to share. “That won’t matter. She can’t handle the situation, and she won’t even try.”
I think that’s the hardest pill to swallow. That I’m not worthy of even the smallest effort. I guess everything I thought I knew about her was wrong. And the thing that pisses me off the most is how she let that degenerate junkie ex, Chris, back into her life after he abandoned her when she needed him. Yet she enables him and picks up the pieces every time he flits in and out of her life. She can support him after he failed her, yet she won’t even try for me, and that speaks volumes.
***
“The prodigal son returns,” Mitch singsongs the following day when I show up in the dining hall.
I flip him the bird. “Miss me, honey?”
“So damn much.” He slaps a hand over his chest, feigning emotion.
“Where the hell were you?” Lance asks, shoving his empty plate aside.
“Dealing with some family shit.” I take a bite out of my burger, hoping my full mouth will shut him up.
“What family shit?” Toph asks, leaning back in his chair.
I eyeball him as I slowly chew my food, making it clear the subject is off-limits.
I’m not close enough to the guys to tell them anything serious about me. We hang out in classes and party together, and that’s the extent of our friendship.
I’m not about to change the natural order of things when it has always worked perfectly. “Tell me what I missed,” I say when I finish my burger, pulling out my phone to take notes.
***
I spend the weekend and the following days poring over my books, throwing myself into studying so I don’t think about all the crap in my head. I still haven’t heard from Presley, and I can’t lie to myself—I was clinging to a sliver of hope, but that’s pretty much withered and died now. I veer between anger and hurt, and I’m so fucking tempted to call her or just show up at the bar, but my stubborn pride won’t let me.
She needs to come running to me, not the other way around.
I miss her like crazy, which is nuts. How is it she dug her way into my life so fully in such a short period of time? I have never believed in love, never expected to find someone I cared about, yet with her it was so natural I didn’t even realize it was happening. Is that how it’s supposed to be when you find your person? Is she that for me? Or am I just sick of the endless random fucks and lonely nights and she came along at the right moment?
I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter now. Because she showed her true colors in the end.
Even though Selena and Keanu have stayed here every night this week, I’m back to my miserable, lonely existence, and my body craves release from this torture. If it wasn’t for Selena, I’d be drowning my sorrows and numbing my pain, but I don’t want to see that same pity in her eyes. So, I’m trying to be strong, and apart from the occasional beer, and a nightly joint I permit myself to smoke, I’m abstaining.
We’re eating takeout Thursday night when Keanu’s cell rings repeatedly. Swiping his finger across the screen, he frowns, sighing loudly.
“Who is it?” Selena asks, placing another serving of salad on her plate.
“Whitney.” He glances at me.
“Why the fuck is she calling you?”
He levels me with a knowing look. “Probably because you’ve turned your cell off, making it obvious you’re ignoring her. You’ve got to speak to her sometime.”
“I’ll speak to her when she agrees to take the paternity test.” So far, Faye has had zero success convincing her stubborn-ass sister to voluntarily agree. I’ve already told Mom if she doesn’t agree by next week to file the paperwork. I’ve got exams coming up and an interview with a family law firm in Boston for a summer internship. I do not need this shit messing things up for me any more than it already has.
Keanu presses play on his phone, turning the speaker on so we can all listen to Whitney’s message.
“Keanu,” she sobs. “Why won’t he talk to me? How can he do this to me?” she adds, slurring her words. “If he doesn’t care about me, maybe he’ll care about his baby,” she screeches as her pain transfers to anger. “For every day he refuses to speak to me, I’m getting drunk. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll sell my story to the media.” She hiccups, and my hands ball into fists as rage pummels me from all sides. “I can already see the headline. Cruel Kennedy asshole abandons his baby momma in favor of gold-digging whore.”
I jump up, and my chair slams to the ground as I grab fistfuls of my hair, pacing the floor like a deranged lunatic. The next time Whitney calls Presley that, I will wring her fucking neck, pregnant or not. Keanu shuts the message off when the doorbell chimes. I stalk off, yanking it open with force.
“What’s happened now?” Kyler asks, sighing heavily as he takes in the murderous rage on my face.
“Play it,” I yell at Keanu as Kyler brushes past me, and I slam the door shut.
Kyler dumps an overnight bag on the floor and stands still, a look of stoic resignation on his face as he listens to Whitney’s threat. “We need to take control of this situation,” he says, after the message ends with Whitney’s cackling, drunken laughter. “It’s why I dropped by.”
“How?” I wave my hands in the air. “She won’t agree to the test, and apart from going the legal route and ignoring her, I don’t see what else I can do.”
“We can’t let her go to the press,” Keanu says. “If this gets out, it’ll be a fucking goat rodeo.”
We all stare at him, and he smirks.
“Bro, no one uses that word anymore.” My brother is fucking weird.
“I’m claiming it,” Keanu says, grinning. “It’s more inventive than shitshow or train wreck, and I like to be original.”
I glance at Selena. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”
Kyler points at me. “We’re flying to New York tomorrow,” he says, ignoring our banter and refocusing the conversation.
Thank fuck tomorrow is an optional day, because I barely managed to sweet-talk my way out of last week’s poor attendance. They take that shit seriously at Harvard Law, and I can’t afford to miss any more days. I was planning on attending my study group tomorrow afternoon, but I can study on the plane instead.
“Dad booked Michael to take us since he has some golf thing he can’t get out of. I’m staying here tonight, and we can travel to the airport together in the morning.”
“Why are you staying here?” I ask, cocking my head to one side. Kyler never voluntarily leaves his wife and children, and it’s not like he couldn’t just drive to the airport from Wellesley.
He rubs the back of his head. “Faye doesn’t approve of my plan, and we had a massive argument.”
“You shouldn’t be the one to do this,” I tell him.
“I’ll go with Kent,” Keanu offers. “It’s not fair to put you and Faye in the middle of this.”
“We’re already in the middle, and things are fucked thanks to my dumbass father-in-law.�
�
“Mom’s not budging?” Keanu says, and I arch a brow.
“She told Adam he’s no longer welcome at the house,” Kyler explains, and warmth blooms in my chest. It’s a strange feeling. One I’m not accustomed to, because Mom’s go-to reaction to me is to instantly assume I’m guilty of whatever I’m being accused of. Yet she didn’t hesitate to defend me at Easter dinner, and she’s standing her ground. A messy ball of emotion clogs the back of my throat.
“She is furious over how Adam treated you,” Kyler continues, staring me straight in the eye, “and the fact he won’t force Whitney to have the test. Can’t say I disagree though I’ve held back on voicing those opinions to my wife. Faye is disappointed with her dad but making excuses for him ’cause he’s all cut up over his breakup with Callie.”
“That’s no excuse to take it out on Kent,” Selena says, clearing away the half-eaten dinner plates.
“I agree, and so does Faye, but she’s trying not to choose sides.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble in your marriage,” I say, wetting my dry lips.
“This isn’t your fault, and the best way of resolving this is to talk face to face with my sister-in-law. This whole thing is fishy, and I’m sick of Whitney manipulating Faye. She’s a self-centered little bitch who only ever thinks of herself. The only time she calls Faye is when she needs something, and she has made no effort with the twins.”
I avert my eyes because I’ve made little effort with them either. Something I promise myself I will rectify once I handle this situation. “How is this going to work?” I ask, pushing my remorse aside to deal with another day.
“We’ll show up at NYU and give her no choice but to speak to us. She isn’t the only one who can make threats. If she goes to the press, we’ll release that voice message. If she refuses to volunteer for the test, we’ll provide it to the court and petition for full custody of the child once he or she is born. Provided he’s yours,” he adds. “Once it goes legal, there is no way of keeping it out of the public eye. Her reputation will be in tatters. She’ll fucking agree. She’s too self-obsessed not to.”
“Damn.” Keanu whistles under his breath. “Faye will divorce you if you do that,” he jokes.
“Faye will be fucking pissed at Whitney when she hears that message, and she’ll come around to my way of thinking once she calms down. I can’t stand by and watch Whitney hurt my wife and my brother any longer. This is being dealt with now.”
“Thank you.” It feels good to have my brother step in and help me to take back control.
He pulls me into a hug, slapping me on the back. “No thanks are necessary, man. You’re my brother, and I’ll always have your back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Kent
“Are you sure this is the right location?” I ask Kyler as we head up another flight of stairs in NYU toward the offices.
“You doubt your FBI-agent brother?” He quirks a brow, stepping sideways to let a girl pass. She does a double take, staring at both of us with her jaw trailing the ground.
“Move along. Nothing to see here.” I growl at her, and she scurries off.
Kyler chuckles. “Charming as ever.”
“Fuck off.” I flip him the bird. “I hate being objectified.”
He stares at me like I’m an imposter wearing his brother’s skin. “Since when?”
“Since always. Why the hell do you think I never went back for seconds?”
“You did with Presley.”
“Are you looking for me to hit you?” I snarl, stomping past him down the hallway.
He catches up to me. “I wasn’t implying what you think I’m implying. Presley is the only woman you’ve deemed worthy of spending time with, and you’re just giving up.”
I shove him into the wall. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, and I can’t do this now.” I let him go, breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry. My timing is shit, but we are talking about this on the plane ride home.”
“Oh joy. Something to look forward to,” I deadpan, looking at the locator app on my screen and following it to a closed mahogany door.
Professor Lemmings is written in big gold letters on a plaque on the door.
“Is Kev sure this is right? I thought her schedule said she had German class now?” Whitney is studying languages with business, but it’s a miracle she’s made it to senior year, because she’s the least academic person I know.
“This is the right place.” Kyler frowns, jerking his head toward the room as my hand lifts to knock. He shakes his head, pressing his ear flush to the door. His eyes widen in shock.
“What?”
“Shush. Listen.”
I press my ear to the door, not hearing anything at first. I wait, and then I hear it—groaning and the sound of wood creaking. Kyler and I exchange a look as I attempt to quietly open the door, but it’s, predictably, locked. Holding up one finger, I remove my wallet and extract one of my cards. I hand him my cell, and he knows what to do. I’m extra careful as I slide the card along the side of the door, pressing it gently against the lock a few times before it gives way with a subtle click. The noise from inside has increased, so I doubt they are aware we’re about to break up their little party.
We work in tandem, and I swing the door open as Kyler presses record on my cell phone.
Whitney is draped across the professor’s desk with her skirt bunched at her waist, ass in the air, and her hands gripping the edge of the table. A tall dark-haired man—the professor, I assume—is slamming his dick into her pussy, his pants pooled at his feet, completely oblivious to the fact he has an audience.
What a tool.
Lucky for us.
I glance at Kyler, ensuring he’s got the footage, before I walk toward them. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
Whitney shrieks, and the professor pulls out, turning around to glare at us, his small dick jutting out, coated in her juices. “Who the hell are you, and how did you get in here? I locked that door.”
The door slams shut as Kyler walks to my side.
“I’m sure you did,” I say, smirking as I cross my arms and eyeball him. He looks young for a professor. Maybe he’s a prodigy like Eva or he’s one of those dudes who looks younger than he is.
Whitney pulls her panties up and fixes her skirt, her wide-eyed expression betraying her shock and her panic. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she grapples with some excuse.
“Is he the father?” I ask, drilling her with a “don’t mess with me” look.
“What?” The dude pulls up his pants, swinging his gaze around to Whitney. “You’re pregnant?” Horror creeps over his face.
“How long have you two been bumping uglies?” Kyler asks, discreetly holding my cell behind his back. It’s still recording.
“That’s none of your fucking business, and you need to leave,” the douche says, tucking his shirt into his pants and buckling his belt.
I prod him in the chest with my finger. “That’s where you’re wrong, Professor. She’s trying to pin the blame on me, and I’m not leaving this fucking office until I get the truth.”
“It can’t be mine,” he blurts. “That’s the first time we’ve screwed.”
Hurt flares in Whitney’s eyes, and that gives the game away.
Kyler notices it too. He steps forward, putting himself all up in the guy’s face. Kyler has at least three or four inches in height on him and a well-rehearsed mean face. He’s intimidating as fuck when he needs to be. “I’ll give you one opportunity to come clean before I call my FBI-agent brother and tell him to hack into your office computer, your home computer, your cell, and unearth all your little secrets.” He shoves his chest. “Tell me, is Whitney the only student you’re banging, or are there more?”
He’s not fast enough to conceal his alarm, and I know we’ve hit the jackpot.
“How many students are you fucking?” I ask. “How many others have you knock
ed up?”
Whitney’s panic has transformed into full-blown rage like I knew it would.
“You’re fucking other students?” she screeches, stalking toward him and pushing him in the chest. “You told me you loved me!”
“I do love you, baby, but you know I’m married. This was never going to be a permanent thing.”
“Why do you think I lied and said he was the father?” she screams, waving her hands in my direction.
About a hundred layers of stress instantly lift from my shoulders. I feel like fist punching the air, but I pause the celebration, wanting to see how this plays out.
“I did it to protect you,” she sobs, her palms flattening on his chest. “Because I love you, and I know you can’t leave her. This way we still could’ve been together. We could’ve made it work.”
She is even more delusional than I thought. What kind of twisted logic is that? No wonder she tried to pawn it off as my kid. Deep down, she knows this guy won’t be there for her. I’m a lot of things, but if this baby was mine, I would’ve made sure she was looked after and that neither of them wanted for anything.
To think she has the nerve to call Presley a gold-digging slut.
He lowers her hands and takes a step back. “It can’t be mine. I always use a condom,” he says. “You’re not pinning this on me either.” He narrows his eyes at her. “I know you’ve fucked half the football team, because they trade stories about you, and my TA said he screwed you two weeks ago.”
“Only because you were ignoring me!” Whitney hisses, shoving his shoulders. “I needed to reclaim your attention, and it worked.” A sneer curls the corners of her lips.
“The point is, you’re a slut,” he explains, “and the father could be any number of guys.”
“The baby is yours!” Her lower lip wobbles, and I think reality is finally sinking in. “I’m twelve weeks pregnant, and the only guy I was fucking in February was you.”
“You’re a real piece of work, Whit.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe you tried to fuck up my life like this.”
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 17