Kent lifts his head, staring at his brother, and I can tell it hurts him to do it. “If this was just about missing you, we’d have been speaking ages ago,” Kent admits, and I rub soothing circles on the back of his wrist, urging him to continue.
Austen’s gaze flicks to mine, and we exchange a silent communication. I can tell this is as hard for him as it is for me.
Neither of us understands it, but we don’t have to understand it to support our partners.
I have only met Keaton and Austen one time, but the love they share is unbreakable and undeniable. There is no doubt in my mind Austen would move mountains to make Keaton happy like I would do for Kent. Austen subtly nods at me, and I return it, both of us confirming we will do whatever we can to help make this right—even if we haven’t spoken the words out loud and even if we don’t fully understand it.
Keaton leans his elbows on the table, straining toward his brother. “What is it about?”
Kent shakes and his eyes narrow as he struggles to hold on to his control. Snaking my arms around his trembling body, I hold him close, whispering assurances in his ear.
Tears pool in Keaton’s eyes. “Did something happen to you, Kent?”
Kent goes rigidly still, and you could hear a pin drop in the room.
“Because it’s the only thing that seems plausible,” Keaton continues. A tear rolls down his face, and Austen circles his arm around Keaton’s shoulders, moving in closer to his side. “I have thought about this over and over, and I don’t believe you’re homophobic. I can’t accept you hate me because I’m gay. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Kent shucks out of my arms, climbing to his feet. “Don’t.” He shakes his head repeatedly, jabbing his finger in the air, waving it in his brother’s direction “Don’t conjure up stuff to explain this.” He starts pacing the room, and I can almost see the demons sitting on his shoulders, clinging to his back, whispering ugly truths in his ear, imploring him to lash out. I won’t let them take Kent from me or make things worse with his brother.
So, I get up, cross to my boyfriend, and pull him into my arms. Over his shoulder, I gently plead with Keaton to drop this. Whatever it is, Kent is not ready to discuss it. Who knows if he ever will be?
“It’s okay.” Keaton stands, coming over to us. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”
“Why did you come here?” Kent asks, lifting his head from my shoulder. He repositions us, moving me so I am pressed against his side but still a little in front of him, slightly blocking his body. His arms go around me, and I hold on to him, making sure he knows I am here and he can lean on me.
“To ask you to be my best man at the wedding.”
Silence descends on the room. Kent stares at his brother in shock. Austen comes up alongside Keaton, linking his fingers through his. “Why would you want me to be your best man?” Kent splutters.
“Because you’re my triplet! Because you’ve been there for me through every other major event in my life and I need you to stand at my side while I marry the man of my dreams! I only want you and Keanu. The others understand. And Austen is just having his brother, Orwell, and his friend Colton as his best men.” The words burst from his lips in a nervous rush.
Poor Keaton.
He’s terrified Kent will turn him down.
To be honest, so am I.
Kent can barely look his brother in the eye, and though we don’t understand the reasons, he’s not accepting of Keaton marrying Austen. My heart breaks for them. I understand why Keaton wants Kent to be there, even if he doesn’t support the marriage, but it isn’t right. Or maybe Keaton knows, deep down, that Kent does support him, that it’s not personal, and Keaton is selfless enough to look beyond the exterior hate, because he just wants his brother at his side.
“Keats,” Kent croaks, and pain twists in my gut when tears run freely down his face. “I want to be there for you, I do, but I…I don’t know that I can.”
Keaton steps closer, cautiously placing his hand on Kent’s shoulder. “I won’t force you to do it. You don’t even need to give me an answer today, but please say you’ll think about it. I don’t want to look back on my wedding and feel sad because my brother wasn’t by my side. I don’t want you to look back and regret that you didn’t do it.” Keaton’s shoulders slump. “Just think about it. Please.”
Austen steps up behind Keaton, placing his hand on his hip, holding him close. Emotion-filled energy swirls around us as Kent grips me tighter. More tears fall from his eyes when he says, “I don’t know how you can want me there. Not after how I’ve treated you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, when we all know it does. Keaton has the biggest heart, and I have a sudden urge to hug him because he’s cut his heart open and he’s laying it at Kent’s feet. He is prepared to do whatever it takes to have his brother by his side when he marries the love of his life, even accept his hidden truths if it means he gets his brother back.
“It does, brother,” Kent says, staring his brother in the face. For the first time, he doesn’t look away, eyeballing Keaton with less obvious conflict. I know the turmoil is still there, coiling under the surface, because there is no way you can overcome this kind of conflict without more soul baring, but as I look at my boyfriend, I know he’s trying. “I’m sorry, Keats. I know I’ve been unfair to you and Austen. And I know you don’t understand.” He’s trembling again, and Keaton can feel it because he still has his hand on Kent’s shoulder. “But I will try. For you.”
Hope blooms on Keaton’s face. “What exactly are you saying, Kent?”
The trembling subsides, and Kent holds himself steady, still clinging to me, but reasserting some confidence. “I will be your best man. If that’s what you want, you have it.”
Shock splays across our three faces, because none of us expected Kent to agree.
I step aside as Keaton hugs his brother, and if he notices how Kent tenses up again, he doesn’t make it known. Tears sneak out of my eyes when Kent slowly, cautiously, slides his arms around Keaton’s back, hugging him in return. Keaton chokes on a sob, Kent’s shoulders heave, and Austen rubs at his eyes.
All of us are overwrought with emotion and the significance of today. I truly hope it’s a turning point for them. That they can start to heal.
Austen looks from them to me, and we share another silent promise. We know this is a temporary, tentative truce, and we agree to do what we can to make it last. I hope it lasts long enough for Keaton and Austen to have the best wedding day, because it’s nothing less than they deserve.
***
I’m in Alex’s home office an hour later, chatting to her about some pressed-flower pictures she would like to commission me to do, when there’s a knock on the door. Alex opens it, revealing a sheepish-looking Keaton. He looks at me. “I was hoping to have a word with you. Just the two of us.”
I nod, not surprised he has sought me out. Since the tense conversation at lunch, I’ve caught the concerned looks he has sent Kent’s way when he thinks no one is looking, and I knew he’d find some way of reaching out to me.
“We were just done here anyway,” Alex says. She hands me her business card. “Email me with pricing and potential delivery dates, and we can firm up something next week.”
I have no clue how to price my drawings, but I guess Etsy could help. I’m still in shock she wants to use some of my pieces for a few of her client projects, but I won’t pass up the opportunity. I am beyond excited, and Kent is thrilled for me too. Probably because he knows it means I will have to spend more time at his place, using the amazing studio he built for me. “Thank you so much. I still can’t believe this,” I tell her, returning her warm hug.
“You are very talented, and I like to nurture up-and-coming talent.” She eases out of our embrace, smiling at me. “Besides, I would do just about anything to help my sons and their partners succeed, especially the woman who has put a smile on my Kent’s face. You’re so good for him, Presley. I have never seen Kent this happ
y. Don’t let him push you away.”
She must be under the misconception our breakup was Kent’s fault. I would set her straight, but Keaton is waiting to talk to me, and we won’t have long before Kent comes looking for me. We are due to leave shortly for the city since my shift starts at seven.
Alex leaves, closing the door behind her, and I waste no time getting to the heart of the matter. “I don’t know what happened, and even if I did, I could never betray Kent’s confidence. He will have to tell you in his own time.”
Keaton props his butt against the desk while I remain seated in the chair. “But he has said something? Something did happen to him?”
“I think so,” I truthfully admit. “But it’s only a recent discovery, and he’s not ready to talk about it, if he ever will be.”
“I feel sick,” he whispers as tears well in his eyes. “Kent was so out of control when we were teenagers, and I never stopped to question why. None of us did. We just accepted that was the way he was. Wild and out of control. An attention-seeker.”
“You don’t know it wasn’t that,” I say because we don’t know what Kent is hiding. Just that it’s difficult to talk about. “And he wouldn’t want you to upset yourself over this.” I might think that’s why Kent doesn’t want to say anything this close to his brother’s wedding, but the fact he can’t even tell me confirms it’s more than that.
“I feel so stupid that I didn’t do anything before now. I haven’t said anything to the others and—”
“And you shouldn’t.” I place my hand on his arm. “I know you’re worried about him. So am I, but Keaton, he’s happy. We’re happy, and I know there is something there, something from his past, something that he needs to face up to, but you and I can’t make him face up to it. No one can. He has to face up to it by himself. All we can do is love him and support him and let him know we are here for him if he ever wants to talk about it.”
He wipes his tears away. “Do you love my brother, Presley?”
“With my whole heart and everything I am.”
His answering smile is wide. “I’m so glad he has you. Will you let me know if there is anything I can ever do or if anything happens and you need me or he needs me?”
I stand, hugging him without hesitation. “I will, Keaton, but in return, you have to promise me something.”
“Anything,” he says when I pull back.
“Don’t worry about Kent. Let me take care of him. Focus on the important things like getting married to a wonderful man and having both your triplets by your side.”
I’m not sure exactly why Kent agreed to do it, but I know he pushed past his demons to do the right thing for his brother, and I am going to do everything within my control to ensure Keaton gets the wedding day he deserves and that Kent has my support every step of the way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Presley
“Pres?” Kent asks as we are en route to the castle resort and spa in Vermont where Austen and Keaton are getting married tomorrow. We’ve already been on the road for over three hours, so it shouldn’t be much longer now. The rest of the family arrived earlier today, since they wanted to get the kids settled, but we should make it in time for dinner.
“Yes, honey?” I ask, barely lifting my head from my phone. I’m scrolling through Pinterest, pinning items of inspiration. The pictures Alex commissioned are due in a couple of weeks, and I’ve been working around the clock to get them finished in time.
Alex has also spoken to me about setting this up as a legit side business. She thinks there is a market for one-off handcrafted pressed-flower drawings like this, and she has already confirmed she will be placing more orders, so I’m seriously considering the idea. Eva has offered to help with a website and online store, and Cheryl has said she’ll take photos for my catalog, so the only obstacle is time. God knows I have enough supplies because Kent buys me flowers at least a couple of times a week, and everything else is in the cupboards of my art studio.
It won’t derail my long-term plans. I’m still determined to be a tattoo artist, but perhaps this will help me achieve my goal quicker.
“That therapist you’re seeing, is she helping?” he asks, and I put my phone away, giving him my undivided attention, because I sense this is serious.
“Yes. She is.” I haven’t talked to Kent about it much because my sessions with Jenna have been heavily focused on Chris in recent weeks, and I don’t want to upset him.
“I went to therapy, on and off, for years,” he admits as he drives one-handed through New Hampshire.
“You did?” I swivel in my seat, tucking one leg underneath me.
He nods, glancing at me briefly. “When I started acting out, my parents sent me to a therapist. When that one didn’t help, they sent me to another one. Rinse. Repeat.” A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he’s gripping the steering wheel tight.
“You didn’t trust any of them?” I surmise, remembering the horrible therapist my social worker sent me to when I was nine and I refused to speak in the initial aftermath of the car crash.
Intelligent eyes lock on mine. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I told you I didn’t speak for a year after my parents died, so my social worker arranged for me to see this therapist in the hopes he would help me to deal with the trauma. The guy gave me the creeps.”
His head jerks to mine again, his eyes alert, and I know where his mind has gone.
“He didn’t touch me. It was nothing like that. Just that he was clinical, and I couldn’t warm to him, so I certainly wasn’t going to open up to him.”
“That’s exactly how I felt,” he admits. “And I didn’t trust they wouldn’t turn around and tell my parents everything I told them, even if they spouted oaths of confidentiality, blah, blah.”
“Well, Jenna is different,” I say, reaching out to rub his arm. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right therapist yet.”
He is quietly contemplative after that, and I don’t pry even if I’m dying to know what’s going through his head. He turns the radio on low, and we both laugh when Elvis’s “A Little Less Conversation” comes on because it couldn’t be more apt. We sing some of the words to each other, and it helps to lighten the mood.
Fifty minutes later, Kent swings his SUV into the long castle driveway, and I press my nose to the window, absorbing the pretty scenery. “Wow, this place is stunning.” Majestic trees, neat trimmed hedges, and colorful flowerbeds border the driveway on both sides. A line of twinkling lights guides our path, and with the dusky sky overhead, it adds a magical feel to the place.
I gasp when the castle comes into view up ahead. The grand two-story gray-brick structure with turrets, towers, and various arches and pillars has clearly been well-maintained. Vines of ivy creep up the sides of the castle, and I’m glad we’re staying in one of the detached cabins on the grounds, and not in the castle itself, because one look at this place and I just know it’s haunted. A shudder works its way through me, and I try to avoid thinking scary thoughts.
There are only ten bedrooms in the castle itself, and I know Austen’s family, Alex and James, Cheryl and Keven, Keaton and Austen, Keanu and Selena, and a few of their friends are staying there. The rest of Kent’s family chose the more spacious cabins, and it’s where the rest of their friends are staying when they arrive tomorrow. Tonight’s pre-wedding dinner is just for immediate family.
We park the car, check in, and are driven in an old trolley to our cabin. It’s a beautiful gray-stone structure with exquisite views of the gorgeous woodland and mountain backdrop. We have a decked area off our bedroom with a seating area and a hot tub.
“I’m going to fuck you in there before the weekend is out,” Kent purrs in my ear, his arms going around me from behind.
“I think you love torturing me,” I say, spinning around in his arms as desire tightens in my lower belly. “You know I’ll be squirming the whole way through dinner now.”
“That’s just
how I like my woman,” Kent teases, nipping at my neck with his teeth. “Panties soaked and dreaming of my cock.”
I swat at his chest, pushing him back. “Careful or I’ll cockblock you all weekend.”
He swaggers toward me, pushing me down on the bed, pinning me in place with his hard body. “You can’t last twenty-four hours without my cock inside you.” He presses his hot mouth to my neck, and my pulse aches with need. “You would never last three days.”
“Always so fucking smug,” I rasp, even though he’s right, biting back a moan as his hand trails a path up my body, his fingers brushing against my breast through my shirt. He pivots his hips, pressing his erection into me, and I can’t take it any longer. Gripping his waist, I yank his face to mine. “Fuck me now, and make it quick.” I still need to freshen up, get changed, and make it to dinner in twenty minutes, but we can do it.
He chuckles. “We’ll be late.”
“You’re wasting time,” I chastise, unbuttoning his shirt as I yank his mouth to mine for a passionate kiss. “Less talking. More fucking.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, smirking as he removes my skirt and panties, plunging two fingers into my wet warmth to check I’m ready. I strip him out of his jeans and boxers and roll a rubber over his shaft. Then he’s driving inside me, and fucking me into the bed with that dark intensity I love so much.
***
“You’re late,” Alex chides when we finally show our faces in the main castle restaurant.
“Traffic was murder,” Kent lies, holding out my chair for me to sit.
Kalvin snorts out a laugh. “Nice try, dude. We all saw you pulling up over an hour ago.”
Kent pins him with a smug look. “We’re here now.” He slings his arm around the back of my chair. “And my woman’s needs always come first. Always.”
“Kent!” I shriek, glaring at him. Not only has he confirmed we were late because we were fucking, but he’s also thrown me under the bus.
A chorus of chuckles ring out around the table while I just wish the ground would open and swallow me. Thankfully, the conversation moves on, and Alex takes her time making introductions, insisting we play musical chairs, so by the end of the evening, everyone is well acquainted with one another.
Reforming Kent: A Stand-Alone Angsty Bad Boy Romance (The Kennedy Boys Book 10) Page 22