He takes a purposeful step back. “I know, man. I just can’t keep my hands off you.”
I push off the door, playfully messing his hair as I head toward my bag. “The feeling is mutual.” Grabbing my bag, I sit on the side of Keaton’s humongous king-sized bed, looking around his bedroom.
It’s decorated in shades of blue, white, and gray, and it’s tastefully designed. Matching bedside tables rest on either side of the bed, and a large TV is mounted on a white dresser off to the side, alongside a desk and chair. He has a huge walk-in closet on the left just before his private bathroom. A couch, coffee table, and window seat form a cozy area at the rear righthand side of the room.
The room is spacious and comfortable and larger than most hotel suites I’ve stayed in. Two wide windows sit on either side of French doors, which open to the rear grounds. The curtains are pulled so I can’t see outside, but I’m guessing it’s as impressive as everything else I’ve seen so far.
“Sit for a sec,” I tell Keaton, patting the space beside me as I open the zipper on my bag. I remove the wrapped package, handing it to him. “Happy birthday, Keats.”
Excitement radiates from his every pore, and I smile as he tears at the blue and silver wrapping, uncovering the framed tattoo and plain white envelope.
“You framed it,” he whispers, his gaze raking over the drawing I’ve painstakingly designed and etched.
“I thought it was the best way of preserving it until I’m ready to ink it on your skin.”
He trails his finger along the glass covering the design. “I love this so much.” When he lifts his head, his eyes are damp with unshed tears. “I can’t wait to have it on my body.”
“Open your second present,” I urge, plucking the envelope from the bed and handing it to him.
A giant smile stretches across his mouth when he removes the sheet of paper, reading the details of our January culinary break. “This is too much.” Emotion blares from his eyes as he stares at me, reaching out to thread his fingers in mine.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it! It’s perfect.” Leaning forward, he grabs the back of my head with his free hand and pulls me into him for a deep kiss. “And I love you. Thank you.”
“I love you too.” I clasp his neck, keeping him close, unable to tear myself away from him. Our mouths meet again, and we devour one another, lost in our own little world.
Until the door slams open and someone releases a whimper of pain.
We break apart in tandem, our heads darting to the open door, where a pretty girl with long hair and big eyes stares at us in disbelief.
Shit.
“It’s true,” she whispers as silent tears roll down her face and her lower lip wobbles.
“Mel.” Keaton stands, the pain evident on his face and in his voice.
“I’m such an idiot,” she adds, openly crying now.
Keaton walks toward her. “You’re not,” he softly replies, reaching for her.
“I can’t...” She chokes on a sob, ducking out of his grasp and running off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Keaton
“Go after her,” Austen says, as I stand helpless in the doorway. “Make sure she’s okay.” I hesitate, not knowing what the protocol is here. I’ve no clue why she’s even here—I didn’t invite her, and I’m pretty sure Mom didn’t either.
“Keats.” Austen stands, walking to my side. He clasps my face in his hands. “It’s okay. I’m not threatened. She’s upset, and you’ll only worry.” He presses a hard kiss to my lips, and I hold on to his shoulders.
A loud hissing sound has us drawing back, and I’m instantly on guard when I spot Kent in the doorway of his bedroom, glaring at me with clear disgust. From the minute he arrived home today, he has avoided me, and I’ve given him a wide berth. I’m still hurt over his callous treatment, and I don’t want to cause a fight when Mom and Dad have gone to so much trouble.
But my brother doesn’t get to eyeball my man the way he’s currently eyeballing him—as if he’s seconds away from tearing Austen limb to limb. Naked aggression and raw loathing seep from his every pore, as he casts a derogatory lens over my boyfriend.
Kent can be pissed at me all he wants, but Austen has done nothing to warrant such a hostile reception. Straightening my shoulders, I stand slightly in front of Austen, linking my hand in his. “Stop looking at my boyfriend like that. Hate me, but Austen has done nothing to you.”
“He fucking exists,” Kent spits, his nostrils flaring as a cruel sneer twists his mouth into an unattractive line. My brother shoulder checks me as he brushes past. “You make me sick.” His gaze flits to our conjoined hands. “Fucking faggots.”
Austen stiffens, every muscle in his body locking up tight, and he moves instinctively, taking a step forward. I push him back with my hands, shaking my head. “Let it go.” I hold him against the wall with my palms braced on his chest until Kent has disappeared.
“What the hell is his problem?” Austen asks, blowing air out of his mouth.
“Where do you want to start?” I deadpan, twisting my head from side to side to loosen the kink in my neck.
“He can’t speak to you that way. I don’t care if he’s got a problem with us. He doesn’t get to throw homophobic insults at us.”
“I know, but I can’t fight him on it tonight. I won’t do that to my parents.”
He nods. “Agreed.” He runs a hand along the back of his neck. “You need to find Melissa,” Austen reminds me.
Sighing, I close my bedroom door. “She’s probably long gone by now.”
“Probably,” he says, matching my strides as we walk down the hallway.
“I should’ve locked the fucking door.”
“She shouldn’t have barged in there without knocking,” Austen coolly replies. “But I am sorry she saw that. I know it hurt her.”
We step foot in the game room, and my eyes narrow on Kent. He’s sprawled lengthways across one of the leather sectionals, his body covering the girl underneath him. Her purple hair is splayed across the seat of the couch, and I don’t need to see her face to know it’s Faye’s half-sister, Whitney. She cries out as Kent’s hands move under her dress, and I look away, disgusted and angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.
“Keep walking,” Austen says, tugging on my hand and pulling me through the room. “Maybe she’ll fuck some sense into him,” he adds when we’re past the room, walking along the second hallway that leads to the entrance lobby.
I snort out a bitter laugh. “I very much doubt it. That’s Whitney. Faye’s troubled half-sister, and Kent is supposedly finished with her. Let’s hope Faye’s dad, Adam, doesn’t find them, or there’ll be hell to pay.” If I was vindictive, I’d tell him, but I don’t want to get Kent in trouble—even if I’m seriously pissed at him right now.
A commotion up ahead claims my attention, and I quicken my pace. “Is it Melissa?” Austen asks, and I start running, terrified he’s right and that she’s doing something she’ll regret—like outing me to the party guests.
But it’s not Melissa.
It’s unexpected guests. Very welcome unexpected guests.
A giant grin spreads across my mouth as I push past Mom, yanking Faye into my arms. “Oh my God. What are you doing here?” I hug her tight, and the feel of her arms around me is like a comfort blanket.
“You didn’t honestly think we’d miss your twenty-first, did you?” she replies, squeezing me harder.
“There’s no way we wouldn’t be here,” Kyler adds, wrapping me in a hug as soon as his wife releases me. “Especially not after your revelation.” He pulls back, grinning. “Did you like your birthday present?” His lips twitch.
I shove at his chest. “It was your idea?”
He shakes his head. “I’d love to claim the credit, but it was—”
“Kal’s idea,” I finish for him, because Kal is the known joker in the pack.
“Oh my.” Faye’s raspy breath pulls me away from her
husband. I examine my sister-in-law’s face as she stares behind me, her eyes popping wide and her cheeks flushing.
Turning around, I urge Austen to come forward with a jerk of my head. He’s been holding back on purpose. Giving me time to greet my brother and his wife. As I look around, it’s only family here now, so I take hold of Austen’s hand when he reaches my side, gripping it firmly. Though my guy is super confident, this has got to be daunting for him.
More of my family spills into the lobby from the living room, emitting excited shrieks when they spot Faye and Ky. You’d swear it was four years, not four months, since we last saw them. “This is Austen,” I say, introducing my boyfriend to them.
“Um, wow. Keats was right,” Faye says. “Your picture didn’t do you justice.”
Ky rolls his eyes, sliding a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We didn’t travel all this way for you to drool over Austen. Show some restraint, woman.”
Austen grins. “It’s good to meet you both. I know how happy Keats is to have you here.”
Ky stretches out his arm, and my heart soars like it has wings as I watch my boyfriend shake hands with my brother.
I love all my brothers, but I’ll always have a special bond with Ky. He was the one I was closest to—outside of Kent and Keanu—growing up. He looked out for us in a way the others didn’t, and I’ve never forgotten that.
“Good to meet you too. It’s nice to see a smile on my brother’s face again.”
Faye and Ky get swallowed up by some of the others, and I spot my parents moving this way.
“Incoming,” I warn just as Mom grabs Austen, hauling him into her arms for a hug. Mom is a big hugger, and I’d already forewarned Austen, so he’s not fazed by her exuberance. She looks so petite bundled up against his tall frame, and it’s almost comical.
“Austen. We are so happy to finally meet you.” She pulls him down so she can kiss both his cheeks.
“Likewise, Mrs. Kennedy. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Please call me Alex.” She turns to my dad, yanking him forward. “This is my husband, James.”
“You’re very welcome, Austen,” Dad says, clapping him on the back. “We look forward to getting to know you.”
“Same, although Keaton talks about you all so much I feel like I know you already.”
Mom beams, pulling me into her arms. “He’s gorgeous,” she says, way too loud. “And very polite. I approve.”
Austen fights a smirk as he shares a knowing look with my dad.
I spy Lana peeking at me, and I haul her over. “This is my very talented famous writer sister-in-law,” I say, introducing her to my man.
Her cheeks flush a little, from my compliment and my guy, I’m guessing. “Lovely to meet you, Austen,” she says.
“It’s good to meet you too.” Taking her hand, he brings it to his lips. “Keats never misses an opportunity to boast about how amazing you are.”
“Hmm,” Kal says, slapping me on the back as he sidles up next to us, eyeing my boyfriend holding his wife’s hand. “You sure he’s not into women too? Or is my wife so beautiful she can turn any gay man straight?”
“Kal!” Lana shrieks, her cheeks turning fire-engine red. “You promised to be on your best behavior!” She faces Austen. “Don’t listen to him. He has zero filter, and he loves to shock.” She pins her husband with a pointed look. “It’s like having three children,” she admits.
I chuckle, sliding closer to Austen out of a sense of protectiveness. “It’s okay, Lana. I made sure Austen came here prepared. He knows exactly who to watch out for.”
Kal tucks his wife into his side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it, honeybun. You love that I spout the shit most men don’t have the balls to admit.” He flashes Austen a wide smile. “All joking aside, it’s good to meet you, man.” He thrusts out his arm, and they shake hands. “I was just messing around.”
“Like with the Porsche?” Austen asks, grinning. “Nice touch.”
Kal puffs out his chest. “I thought so too. Keats does love his pink.”
“You’re so funny.” I flip him the bird. “And I might just keep it that color, purely to spite you.”
“Please do,” he begs, wrapping his arms around his wife. “That I have got to see.”
Keanu and Selena step forward, and Keanu shoots me an approving grin. Thank God for my other triplet.
Keanu has gone out of his way to touch base with me several times this week to ensure I’m okay, and we had a good talk this morning over breakfast. I know he’s talked to Kent and he’s trying to play peacemaker, which I love, but I told him not to do that, because I don’t want him dragged into this any more than he is. I don’t want him backed into a corner where he has to choose sides.
“I’m Keanu, and this is my wife Selena,” he says, smiling at Austen. “We’re glad to finally meet you.” Selena gives me a subtle thumbs-up when Austen isn’t looking, and I grin.
“Me too,” Austen says. “Keats has been telling me all about Moonlight, and I think what you’re doing is really great. I don’t have a ton of spare time, but if I can do anything to help, you only need to ask.”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it,” Keanu says.
“Perhaps, later, if you have time, you could look over the plans for the football field and assist us when it comes to recruiting a coach?” Selena suggests, smiling warmly at him.
“Consider it done. I’d love to.”
I spend another few minutes introducing Austen to everyone else, and then we move into the main body of the house, where the party is raging.
Leaving Austen with Eva and Kade, I do a quick search of the house for Melissa, but she appears to be gone. Taking the steps to the mezzanine level, I duck into Dad’s study to call her, leaving a message when she doesn’t pick up. There isn’t anything more I can do, so I head back to the party, trying not to worry about the mess I’ve caused.
We dance and drink until the early hours of the morning, eventually falling into bed sometime after four a.m.
“How’s your head, birthday boy?” Austen asks the following morning, placing a kiss on the back of my shoulder.
“I’ve felt better,” I admit, groaning when I lift my sore head from the pillow, wishing I hadn’t drunk so many shots.
Austen chuckles. “Told you to drink more water.” He tried plying me with water in between alcohol, but I was having too good of a time to listen to reason.
Hauling myself upright in the bed, I lean my pounding skull back against the headrest as the covers pool in my lap. “I’m sure getting trashed on your twenty-first is a rite of passage,” I say, gratefully accepting the bottle of water and pain pills he hands me. “The hangover from hell too,” I add.
“I wouldn’t know. Mine occurred at the start of our summer practice season, so I couldn’t go wild.”
“I’m thinking you had the right idea,” I mumble, noticing he’s dressed in sweats and a tee. “You got up?”
He chuckles. “Your observational skills still suck,” he teases, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “I got up to find water and pain pills for you.”
“Uh-oh,” I say, grinning. “Did Mom corner you?” Mom is a super early riser. Comes from years of running her own global business and tons of early starts.
“She did.” Austen crosses his feet at the ankles, looking relaxed. “Forced a ton of pancakes and bacon on me as she and your dad and Kaden and Keven grilled me.”
I jerk up, banging my head off the wall, cussing. “Shit. You should’ve woken me.”
Austen tilts his head, smiling. “It’s cute you think I can’t handle it on my own.” He leans in, kissing me on the mouth, but I pull back, shaking my head.
“I’m sure I have the worst boozy morning breath.”
“I don’t care.” He rubs my arm. “If I want to kiss you, I’ll fucking kiss you.”
My eyes search his. “Did it piss you off that we couldn’t kiss at the part
y last night? Be honest.”
“Truthfully? I hate hiding, but we found plenty of opportunities to steal a few kisses, and it was a great night. I’ve no regrets.” He pecks my lips. “Stop worrying. It’s cool.”
“You sure you’re okay to do the lunch thing today? Because I can make our excuses if you like.”
We all chipped in to buy Keanu and Selena a boat as a wedding present, but it’s as much for our use as theirs. When Mom found out this is Austen’s first trip to Boston, she spoke to Keanu, and he arranged to take it out today. The plan is to show Austen some of the sights from the water while we have a nice family lunch. It was a thoughtful gesture, and one I’d hate to turn down, but I don’t want Austen to feel like he’s being ambushed into it either. My family is a lot to take on.
He taps his fingers on his chin. “Do I want to have lunch onboard a luxury boat off Boston Harbor?” His smile is knowing as he holds my gaze. “I’m cool with lunch. You can’t bail on your family. Especially when Faye and Ky came all the way from Australia to be here. I’m happy to hang with your family. I like them.”
With one noticeable exception.
That sentiment doesn’t need to be verbalized for me to know his comment doesn’t extend to Kent. And I don’t blame my boyfriend. Though Kent made himself scarce most of the night, whenever he was around, he made his disgust clear through pointed comments and poisonous looks.
I want to throttle him.
I am so mad and hurt on Austen’s behalf. Mine too.
At least everyone else has made up for it, openly welcoming him, and it’s helped to offset Kent’s cold disdain.
A loud crash resonates from the hallway outside, and we jump up as one, dashing out into the corridor. A secondary crash echoes from Kent’s bedroom, and I rush to his door without hesitation, yanking it open, scared something has happened to him.
All the blood drains from my face as I confront the scene in front of me. Kent is lying on his stomach in the bed, the covers only covering him from the lower legs down, his naked upper body on full display. His blue eyes, identical to mine, are wide-open, and the smug grin on his mouth is obvious in the extreme.
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