Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5)

by Siobhan Davis

  “Sure.” I fling my duffel over my shoulder as we step out into the corridor. The usual groupies are loitering in the lobby, alongside some of my teammates’ regular fuck buddies and a few of the guys’ girlfriends. I wave to a couple of the girlfriends as Ryan and I walk past.

  “Brad! Wait up!” a voice calls out from behind me. Ryan and I turn around, watching a good-looking brunette jog toward us. Her tits are bouncing up and down, capturing both our attention.

  “Nice,” Ryan murmurs under his breath. “She one of your regulars?”

  “I don’t have regulars.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I don’t have time for a relationship or clingers-on,” I lie.

  “Hey.” The brunette smiles as she comes to a standstill in front of us. She’s gorgeous, and she knows it.

  “Hey,” I reply coolly, wracking my brains to see if I know her. She doesn’t look familiar, but that’s nothing new. I’m usually completely smashed by the time I take a girl to my bed.

  “I was wondering if you were going to the campus party tonight? And if you wanted to hang out?” With the way she’s currently eye-fucking me, it’s obvious hang out is a polite way of asking for a hookup.

  “I’m out of here, man,” Ryan says, slapping me on the back with a knowing look. “Catch you later.”

  “Noah’s place?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

  “Yes. That’s the one.” Her eyes spark with hope and desire.

  “Have we met before?” That’s code for “have we fucked before?” because it’s not like I can ask her outright; I’m not a total douche.

  “Not really. I’m in your math class, but I don’t think you’ve noticed me. I, on the other hand, have definitely noticed you.” The look she gives me is suggestive in the extreme. My brows nudge up in amusement. This girl has balls, and I admire that. She steps into me, placing her hand on my chest. “I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I’m looking for some fun. I heard you’re the right guy for the job.”

  That kind of comment is like the playboy’s holy grail. But I’m role-playing, at best, so, it’s no surprise I feel strangely empty at her words. I’m debating my reply, when Coach barks out my name. My head swivels. He is standing outside the door to the locker room with his arms folded sternly across his chest, staring at me. He wiggles his fingers in a “come hither” manner.

  I maneuver around the nameless girl. “Gotta go.”

  “What about the party?” She pouts, and it’s not a good look on her.

  “I’ll think about it,” I throw out over my shoulder as I sprint toward Coach.

  “Take a seat,” he says, flopping into the chair behind the desk in his office. I prepare myself for a lecture. “Two things.” He eyeballs me. “Firstly, I welcome suggestions from players, but there’s a correct way to pitch ideas to me. Arguing with me in front of the team is not the way to get my support. I liked your idea, and I’ll consider it, but, in future, ask to meet with me in private, and we can discuss it in a professional manner.”

  “Of course, Coach. I apologize if I was out of line.”

  He nods, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the desk. “Secondly, get your head in the game.”

  My eyes pop wide. I’m always focused on the field, and I’ve never given less than one hundred percent. “My head is in the game, sir. I don’t understand.”

  He sighs, as if he’s already grown tired of this conversation. “The girls, the booze, and the partying, McConaughey. They’ve got to go. I’m not saying you can’t have fun or that you can’t have a girl, but try and find one you like and just stick with her?”

  Huh. I want to tell him I’ve been there and bought the T-Shirt only to have it ripped right off my back, but I don’t think he wants to hear about my romantic drama. “I’ll tone it down, sir,” I promise.

  “Make sure you do. I know I don’t need to spell it out for you. This is an important year. This is when scouts really start to take notice. If you want to play in the big leagues, you have to get your act together. NFL coaches do not want players they have to babysit or troublesome PR nightmares. They want professional athletes with leadership potential who are serious about a sports career. You are starting to make a name on campus for yourself and not for the right reasons. If that’s happening here, you’ve got a problem. You hear me, son?”

  I gulp, and my Adam’s apple jumps in my throat. “Loud and clear, Coach.”

  His expression softens. “I know you’ve been dealt some heavy blows, and I admire you for fighting for your dreams, but you’ve got to push those lingering demons aside before they rob you of the future you want. You are not your father, and you are not responsible for his crimes. You didn’t steal client’s money. Your father did. You didn’t force your family to flee the law. Your father did. You haven’t done anything wrong, and if that guilt you’re shouldering is because of your father, let it go. No one blames you for that.”

  That’s easier said than done. While my family situation weighs heavy on my mind, and there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t worry about my mom and my two sisters, the guilt I’m carrying isn’t connected. That’s all thanks to the mess in my head over Faye, but Coach doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t understand I lose myself in drink and girls to forget the one girl who means something to me.

  “Okay.” He slams his hands down on the desk before standing up. “Get out of here, and get your head screwed on correctly. I don’t want to have to talk to you about this again.”

  Chapter Four

  Rachel

  It’s Monday morning, first day of classes, and I’m a bundle of nerves, but I’m doing my best to disguise it. I drop into a seat in the lecture hall alongside a girl with chin-length strawberry-blonde hair sitting by herself. She looks up at me and smiles.

  “Hi, I’m Rachel.”

  “You’re Irish? That’s awesome.” Her face lights up. “My cousin is going out with an Irish girl, and she has the cutest accent ever.”

  I rein in the eye roll. “What is it about Americans and the Irish accent? The amount of times I’ve had that said to me since I moved here is ridiculous. Back home, there is nothing special about the way I speak.”

  “It’s the novelty factor, I guess.” She crosses one leg over the other. “And there’s a lot of Irish descendants in Boston.” She thrusts her hand out at me. “I’m Lauren, by the way. I’m a newbie. Just transferred from the University of Illinois.”

  “No way!” A genuine smile graces my lips. “I just transferred from the College of Art and Design in Dublin.”

  “Awesome! We can be newbies together!”

  I smile. “Sounds good.” And it does. Apart from Jill and Rachel, I haven’t had many female friends. A few girls I hung out with from school disowned me a couple of years ago, not wishing to associate with my new party girl image. And the friendships I made in college last year were fun but nothing permanent. I haven’t heard from any of those girls since I left Ireland, although I haven’t reached out to them either.

  As Lauren and I chatter away, it’s as if we’ve known each other for years, and instinctively I know we’re going to be the best of friends.

  “She’s so lovely, and we just clicked instantly,” I tell Faye after leaving our yoga class later that night. “It’s nice to have someone in the same predicament as me. Especially because a few of the girls in class seem like total cows and really competitive.”

  “Tell me about it. You know I’ve dealt with my fair share of mean girls. Ignore them. It’s the best course of action. They’ll soon move on to someone or something else.”

  “I couldn’t give a shit really.” Truth. “But having a friend helps. Lauren moved here because of her boyfriend. He’s a junior in Harvard. He’s studying computer science, and I was wondering if Kev knew him.”

  “That’d be cool if he did. We cou
ld all hang out together.”

  “I can’t wait for you to meet her. I think you’ll like Lauren too.”

  “I could use more female friends. I still find it difficult to trust anyone. Last year, so many girls tried to use me to get to Ky or Brad or one of my cousins. It was exhausting and it pissed me off, so I’ve given up trying to make friends with anyone in class.”

  “That sucks, girlfriend.” I loop my arm through hers. “But it’s your fault for falling for such a hottie. Girls will always want your guy.”

  She groans, pushing wisps of damp hair off her sweaty forehead. “Don’t mention the war. Brad hooked up with this total bitch the other morning. Before she left, she totally eye-fucked Ky in front of me. I wanted to claw her eyes out.”

  “No way! That is so uncool. Who does that? Screws one guy and then eyes up his best friend as she’s doing the walk of shame?”

  Faye opens the door to the smoothie bar, and I follow her in. We join the long queue. “Well,” she says, looking a little guilty. “I may have inadvertently contributed to that.” I send her a curious look. “I walked in on them having sex, and she stormed out shortly after that, so I guess she had reason to blame me but not to ogle my boyfriend and tell him to call her sometime.”

  I choke on a laugh. “Oh my God. You caught him screwing? For real?”

  Her face scrunches up. “Please don’t remind me. It’s like the images are imprinted permanently on my brain.”

  “It can’t be that disgusting. Brad’s a total ride.” The words slip out before I question the wisdom of them.

  Her gaze bores through me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have a bit of a crush on Brad.”

  I snort, moving up the line. “Puh-lease. As if. The guy’s a jerk. I don’t crush on jerks.”

  Or anyone.

  That would imply having to indulge certain feelings, and I really try to avoid that at all costs.

  She tilts her head to the side, looking contemplative. “He’s really not. Underneath, he’s still the same sweet guy I met when I first moved here. Don’t let him fool you otherwise. He’s going through some stuff, and the last couple years have been hard on him. I don’t know why he acts like that around you.”

  I pull my invisible bravery hat on. “I have a theory about that.”

  “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  I clear my throat and then release a flurry of words. “I think it’s because we fucked, and he regrets it, and he most certainly doesn’t want you finding out about it.”

  Faye is rooted to the spot, her mouth hanging open. “Wait? What? You slept with Brad?” Her brow puckers. “When did this happen, and why am I only hearing about it now?” A hurt look is etched on her face, and I feel like a crappy friend.

  The line moves forward and so do we. “Look, don’t get mad. I was going to tell you, but then you were going through all that stuff, and things were already awkward enough between you, Ky, and Brad, and I didn’t want to add to that. I didn’t deliberately decide to hide it from you, and it wasn’t like it was planned or anything. It just happened.”

  “You still should’ve told me. Damn, Rach, you keep far too much stuff locked up inside. It’s not healthy, and it’s going to come back and bite you one of these days.”

  Tension ties my shoulders into knots. Not this again. Deep down, I know Faye is right, but it’s baby steps for me. One thing at a time. “I’m sorry, and I’m telling you now.” I fill her in on what went down that time we visited the Kennedy house in Wellesley. She listens without interruption, as we inch farther up the line.

  “That sounds really hot,” she concurs, when I’ve finished talking. There’s a wicked grin on her face as we sit across from one another, sipping our smoothies.

  “Believe me, it was. Best sex of my life.” My core throbs in remembrance. Or it could be misuse. It’s been a while, but that’s by choice.

  “So how do you feel about him now?”

  “I hate him.”

  Her lips twitch. “No, you don’t.”

  I stretch across the table, putting my face in hers. “Yes. I. Do.”

  She leans back in her chair. “What aren’t you saying?”

  “I talked to him in Nantucket. Made a peace offering, and he rejected me outright. He was actually really mean.” A tightness invades my chest with the memory.

  She frowns. “That doesn’t sound like Brad.”

  “You think I’m making this shit up? He made his feelings very clear. He doesn’t want to be my friend, to have anything to do with me.”

  She goes quiet. “I think that might be my fault,” she says after a bit.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Because of the way he says he feels about me.”

  “The way he feels about you, you mean.”

  She shakes her head. “Brad doesn’t love me, not like that. He just thinks he does.”

  I look idly out the window. “I don’t know him well enough to agree or disagree with you. He just doesn’t like me.” I shrug, even though it hurts to admit it, and I can’t figure out why I even care. Other people’s opinions of me usually just float over my head. You have to be in touch with your emotions to actually care what people think of you either way. But with Brad it’s different. I just haven’t worked out why.

  “That isn’t it. Trust me. I know the guy. There is no reason he would have for hating you. I’m telling you, this is tied up with me. I bet he feels something for you, and he isn’t ready to face up to what that means.” She sighs. “God, I wish there was something I could do. This is tearing us all apart, and I know it’s charging toward some kind of tipping point. I’m scared of the fallout. I already feel guilty enough.”

  “Faye, you have nothing to feel guilty about. You never led him on. You were up-front with him the whole time, and he knew how you felt about Ky.”

  “I still kissed him twice, and I never should have done that. It gave out mixed signals.”

  I sip my drink. “That’s water under the bridge now. It’s been years, Faye. Brad knows the score. If he hasn’t moved on, that is on him, not you.”

  “What are you going to do about him?”

  I slurp my drink before replying. “Keep out of his way as much as possible. I don’t want to add to your burden, so I’ll try to be on my best behavior whenever I’m around him. It’ll be challenging, but I’ll give it my best shot. It’s just, sometimes, he makes me so mad I could spit.”

  “You sure you don’t have feelings for him?”

  “When have you ever known me to catch feelings? Chill. Don’t worry. It’ll all be cool.”

  Faye leaves the smoothie bar before me. I’ve arranged to meet Keven outside to ask him my favor, and I don’t want her around to overhear our conversation, so I told her he’s running late and shooed her out the door. I’m standing at the corner of the building, waiting for Kev to show his face, when a conversation drifts my way.

  “I’m telling you, there’s something going on there. Something Brad doesn’t want me to discover. He basically threatened me, and no one does that unless they have something to hide,” a female voice says. I inch closer to the wall and take a quick peek around the corner. A blonde is standing with her back to me, talking to two dark-haired girls.

  “Why do you even care? So what if he’s hiding something,” the taller brunette asks.

  “Because I can’t stand cheaters,” she hisses.

  “Or you want to dig your claws into Kyler Kennedy?” The shorter brunette smirks.

  Blondie tosses her long hair over her shoulder. “I’d be doing Kyler a favor. I’ll bet he wouldn’t be pleased to know his best friend calls out Faye’s name when he’s in the middle of sex with another girl.”

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump about ten feet in the air.

 
“Sheesh, Rachel. It’s only me,” Kev says, as I struggle to recalibrate my breathing.

  I slap his massive arm. “You scared the hell out of me, Kev. Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to sneak up on unsuspecting girls?”

  “Sure. Same way I figure your mom told you never to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations.”

  “How much of that did you hear?” I level him with a somber look.

  “Enough to know Brad is more fucked in the head than I realized.” He reclines against the wall, folding his arms across his very impressive chest. A chest I’ve been up close and personal with.

  “I know, but you can’t say anything. Let me talk to him.”

  “I didn’t realize you two were close.”

  “We’re not. He hates me, but I’ll make him listen.”

  Kev’s eyes drill into me. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Rach. That’s a virtual impossibility. You’re far too pretty and sweet.”

  My insides turn to mush. “That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.”

  He quirks a brow. “That’s sad, if it’s true. You’re a gorgeous girl, Rachel, and you should’ve been told that a thousand times.”

  My cheeks turn red, amazing myself. I cannot remember the last time I blushed. Probably before I turned thirteen, when I was still innocent.

  Kev grins. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re blushing.”

  “Shut the fuck up. And don’t tell anyone.” I grin back at him. “I’ve a rep to maintain.”

  “These lips are sealed.”

  Talk of his lips brings memories of our time together to the forefront of my mind. We spent a lot of time making out the summer before last when he visited Ireland with Faye, Ky, and the rest of the Kennedys. Those were some fun times.

  His expression turns more serious, and I’m guessing he’s worked out where my mind just went. “Look, Rachel.” He smooths a hand across the top of his cropped hair.

  I hold up a hand. “No need to say it, Kev. I’m not looking to pick up where we left off in Ireland. I’m not in the market for a boyfriend or a hookup, so stop looking so worried.”