“Oh, fuck.”
My little firecracker is fully awake. I clear my throat. “Morning.”
She scrambles away from me, like she’s just been electrocuted, grabbing the sheet up under her arms to hide her naked breasts.
It stings, and I switch to defensive mode. “No need to act all shy now, Red. I’ve seen all the goods.” And some. Memories of last night, unhelpfully, flood my brain, and there’s no disguising the bulge under the sheet.
“Shit, what time is it? I’m meeting Lauren and Faye at eleven.”
“It’s just past ten.”
A flurry of expletives leaves her kissable mouth, and I chuckle.
“I need to get dressed.” Her eyes dart around my room, and a tiny frown creases her brow. Her lips purse as she remembers the trail of clothes we left in our wake.
I fling the covers off and stand up, stretching my arms out over my head as a massive yawn rips from my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Rachel doing her best not to look at me. I smirk, and her eyes narrow to slits. “See something you like, Red?” I wink.
“Can you at least put some boxers on?”
“And ruin my fun? I happen to like watching you squirm.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I laugh. “Now I’m just remembering all the things you did with that tongue last night.” Her cheeks inflame, and, shit, is feisty no-bullshit Red actually genuinely embarrassed?
She bounces back quickly. “A gentleman wouldn’t be such an ass the next morning, but I guess I should’ve known to expect this from you.” She folds her arms across her chest and glares at me.
Rachel’s already made her feelings perfectly clear through her actions, so I’ll make this real easy for her now. Besides, it’s better to be the rejecter than the rejected.
“Chill the fuck out, Red. We had sex. Big deal. It’s not like anything’s changed. You’re a great fuck but still a complete pain in my ass.” I turn my back on her rapidly reddening face and walk to my dresser, removing a clean pair of boxer briefs.
When I turn around, she is standing behind me with the sheet wrapped around her body and her hair sticking out all over the place. The urge to grab her and kiss her is riding me hard. Fuck this girl. She is a temptation I don’t want or need.
“You’re still a dickhead, and I’m blaming last night on temporary insanity.”
“I’m blaming it on wild monkey lust. No point in lying to oneself, Red.” Smirking, I mess up her hair, knowing it will totally piss her off.
She slaps my hand away, and, if looks could kill, I’d be ten feet under by now. “I don’t care what you call it, but it should never have happened. It’s never happening again.”
I rub a hand over my erection, preparing to finish this off. “Drop to your knees and we’ll call it quits.” I’m an asshole. I know it. But it’s far too easy to wind her up. And I’d much rather deal with her anger than face facts, because this girl stirs too many emotions in me, and I’ve too much crap going on in my life right now to add to it. Having her hate me is the best policy. Never mind that I already want a repeat of last night. Red is right about one thing. That shit ain’t happening again.
My cheek stings as she slaps me across the face. “You’re a despicable human being. Truly despicable. Is this the way you treat every girl after sex? No wonder you have such a rep on campus.” I shrug, refusing to allow those words infiltrate the armor around my head and my heart. “Stay away from me, dickhead. I mean it this time. And if you dare breath a word of last night to anyone, I will string you up by the balls and castrate you slowly, inch by inch, until you’re begging me to stop.”
A loud throat clearing startles both of us. I jump back, and she screams. Our heads jerk to the door. Ky is lounging against the doorframe with a knowing look on his face. He dangles a lacy black bra from the tip of his finger. “I think this might belong to you.” He offers it to Rachel, and she walks toward him, snatching it away with a horrified look on her face. Ky produces a bundle of clothing and hands it to her. “Your dress?”
Her face has turned puce, and I take pity on her. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants from my dresser, I walk to the door and push Ky aside. “Let’s give the girl some privacy.” I close the door behind me and follow Ky to the kitchen.
“Dude, please put those on.” He gestures toward my sweats. “Eating breakfast with your giant boner staring me in the face is not my idea of a pleasant Sunday morning.”
I get dressed and saunter to the coffee machine, switching it on. A new layer of stress heaps on top of me as I turn to face my friend. He reads my expression instantly. Sitting in a chair at the kitchen table, he drops his head in his hands. I watch him silently. After a couple minutes, he looks up at me. “Look, about last night…” He trails off, clearly at a loss for words, and I get it. I don’t have a fucking clue what to say either.
I pour two black coffees and hand one to him, slipping into the seat across from him. “Do you want me to move out?”
“What?” He looks surprised. “No. Of course not.”
“It’s not like we even see all that much of each other anyway. I doubt you’d even miss me.”
He curses, dragging a hand through his hair. Dark circles line the space under his eyes. Either he had trouble sleeping or he also indulged in a late night sexathon. “I’ve been an ass.”
I almost fall off my chair. “What?” Now it’s my turn to act confused.
“Rachel tore strips off me last week for leaving you alone, and Faye has been nagging me too.” He scrubs a hand over his chin. “I haven’t been a very good friend to you, Brad, but I’m going to try harder if you’ll do the same.” He doesn’t need to elaborate on that statement. I know what he’s alluding to.
“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I arch a brow, gesturing toward the bedroom with a nod of my head at the precise moment Rach makes an appearance.
The look of hurt on her face is hard to miss.
Aw, shit. I didn’t mean for her to hear that. For it to be misconstrued. I stand up. “Rachel, I didn’t me—”
She slams past me. “Save your breath, dickhead. I’ve heard just about enough from you today.” She tosses a quick glance over her head. “See you later, Ky.” Offering me one last glare, she storms out of our apartment, and the door almost lifts off the hinges.
“Jesus Christ, Brad!” Ky sighs in frustration. “You’ve just made things a million times worse. Now, Faye is going to be fucking pissed. You can’t bone her friend and then treat her like a piece of trash.”
I stand there incredulously although I don’t know why. “Everything doesn’t revolve around you and your fucking girlfriend! And I’m not the only asshole around here!”
He jumps up. “You know what? Screw this shit. I came over here as a peace offering, hoping we could go to the track and iron out our differences, but there’s really no point. Not when you seem to enjoy hurting the people you profess to care about. I’ve got better things to do with my Sunday.” Grabbing his hoodie, he stalks out of the apartment without uttering another word.
I slump in my chair, wondering how the hell I’m managing to fuck up my life so spectacularly.
I return to bed and sleep for a couple hours. The smell of Rachel’s perfume lingers in my room, infuriating me at the reminder of my latest fuck up. Any enjoyment from last night is erased by the ugliness that was today. I strip the covers off my bed and add them to the laundry pile before making my bed with fresh sheets and opening both windows to air the room out. As if removing every trace of her will fix my broken brain. Then I mope around the living room for hours, feeling sorry for myself, trying to evict all the memories of last night from my mind. But it’s futile. Every touch, every caress, every blissful sensation is imprinted on my mind, and it replays on a continuous, torturous loop until I can stand it no more. I need to get out of here.
I change i
nto running shorts and a sleeveless top and go outside. I decide to head to the Malkin Athletic Center to pound the treadmills. It might help calm me the fuck down. I start off jogging at a gentle pace, only picking up speed as I enter the Harvard grounds. When I run past one of the upperclassmen residential houses, two figures standing in the shadows snag my attention. I stop running, concealing myself behind the nearest tree as I watch Rachel and Keven Kennedy talking animatedly. She is gesturing wildly, and she looks upset. His big hands land on her shoulders, and I go rigidly still. He is peering deep into her eyes as he talks, and a sour taste floods my mouth. Slowly, she nods. He slings an arm around her shoulders and ushers her around the front of the house. He opens the door for her, and she steps inside.
I don’t move for at least a couple of minutes, wondering what the hell is going on between them. I shouldn’t care. It’s none of my business, but I’ve lied enough to myself. It bothers me that something might be happening between them. That she’d leave my arms and run pretty much straight into his.
I should be happy. I was deliberately horrible to her because I didn’t want her to catch feelings.
Problem is, I already have. I’ve just been in denial. Fact is, this last week, the only Irish girl occupying space in my head is Rachel.
That should be a welcome relief, but it isn’t.
I bark out a laugh as the irony of the situation jumps up and slaps me in the face.
Am I trapped in a different love triangle with another Kennedy brother?
Probably would serve me right for treating Rachel like shit this morning.
I need to get out of here. Standing around wondering what she’s doing with Keven in his room isn’t going to help clear my head. Turning around, I backtrack and head for Cambridge. I have a familiar route I run, and I set off at a fast pace.
Sweat coasts down my spine, gluing my top to my back as I run. My feet pummel the sidewalk as I race through Cambridge like there’s a knife-wielding maniac on my heels. I weave around the foot traffic, ignoring the shouts and curses leveled at my back. The busy streets and sounds of the city help drown out the disquieting thoughts in my head.
After an hour, I slow down in a quieter part of town. I approach a street vender and buy two bottles of water and a couple protein bars.
I knock back one bottle of water, tossing the empty container in the nearest trash can, before I start walking back toward our apartment. A delicious gentle breeze wafts over my skin, and I pour the second bottle of water over my head, welcoming the cold rivulets as they trickle over my hot skin.
I’m passing by a narrow alleyway when a hand darts out, latching onto my arm. Caught unawares, I drop my water bottle as I’m yanked sideways. It rolls to the ground, falling over the edge of the curb. I swivel around, ready to put up a fight, and come to a screaming halt at the sight that confronts me.
The woman falls back, urging me to follow with her eyes.
My heart is thrashing around in my chest, beating so fast and so out of control as I walk silently behind her. She stops behind a smelly dumpster and turns to face me with tears streaking across her cheeks.
A lump the size of an apple is wedged in my throat, and I want to say something, do something, but I’m rooted to the ground like a mute. I can only stare at her, drinking her in.
Is this real, or am I projecting? Is my imagination playing the cruelest prank?
She looks different, but it’s still her. Thinner than I recall, but she looks real. Whole. Alive.
She reaches up and cups my face, and her touch does funny things to my insides. It is her. She’s really here. I blink excessively, still rigid as a statue. Her gaze never leaves mine. So much love shines in her eyes, and the lump in my throat expands. I don’t even realize I’m crying until she swipes at the tears quietly trailing down my face.
Finally, I find my voice. “Mom?” I croak. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Ten
Rachel
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want the app,” I tell Keven, holding out my hand for my phone.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to know where he is at every minute of the day. I only need to know if he comes anywhere near me.”
“If you let me install the app, I can set it to notify you if he comes within a certain range. You can just ignore it the rest of the time.” He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over his knee, as he studies me. “And you’re hidden. He won’t be able to find you, so the tracking app is only precautionary.”
I’d like to believe that, but he’s resourceful too. And he told me he’d never let me go. That I’d never be free of him. A familiar weight presses down on my chest. I draw deep breaths, in and out, willing my heartrate to slow down.
Kev is still watching me with those shrewd all-seeing eyes of his. I can tell he’s curious, and, if I know him at all, he’s probably already digging.
Not that he’ll find anything. On the surface, he’s squeaky clean.
My secret is safe, unless Kev’s developed an app which can dig through my brain.
Then I’m in serious trouble.
“No,” I reconfirm. “I don’t want the app.” I can’t tell Kev how anything connected to him is impossible to ignore. That app would sit on my phone like a blaring beacon, calling out to me, taunting me, demanding I check. And I’m trying to forget him. To forget what he did. To overcome the many ways in which he tried to ruin me.
But he hasn’t ruined me. I’m finally fighting back. And I’m getting better. I’m healing. He might have destroyed my childhood, and robbed me of my innocence, but he’s not taking my future. I’m a survivor, and I’m going to get through this. I’m strong enough to do it. I repeat the familiar mantra over and over in my head. I need to keep reminding myself of the important things.
And I’ve already taken such a huge step in moving here.
What I’ve asked Kev to set up is self-preservation.
Having a link to his whereabouts on my phone would be the opposite of that.
The less I know, the better.
I rest my arse on the edge of the desk. “I know I’m asking a lot, but could you just monitor the app and have it notify you if he lands on American soil?”
He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “That’s a mighty big ask.”
I open my bag and withdraw my purse. “I can pay you more.”
He stands up. “That’s not what I meant, and I’m not taking any more of your money. I meant we need to narrow the search field. How about I set the tracker to notify me if he gets within a twenty-mile radius of Cambridge?”
Bile swims up my throat, and a powerful shudder rips through my body at the thought of him coming anywhere near me again. “Make it fifty miles.”
Kev doesn’t miss the way my entire body trembles. “Rachel.” His voice is uber-soft, as if he’s speaking to a frightened child. Perhaps that’s what I still am. “I know we don’t know each other all that well, but I meant what I said before. You can trust me. You can tell me what’s going on, and I won’t tell anyone. I swear.” I look everywhere but at him. He tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to look at him. “I won’t judge. I can see how scared you are and I’m doing my best to help, but it would be easier if I knew exactly why you’re so frightened of him.”
I’m mortified when huge tears pool in my eyes. God, what is wrong with me? I’m blaming the dickhead. He’s raising tons of surface emotions, and I’m ill-equipped to deal. “I can’t, Kev,” I whisper. “And I do trust you, so much, but I haven’t told anyone, because if I talk about it, it’ll only become more real, and I’m trying really hard to put it behind me.”
Without hesitation, he pulls me into his arms, and it’s like déjà vu. Man, Kev gives the best hugs ever. I know Faye thinks Kev is the most guarded of the Kennedys, but that hasn’t been
my experience. There is something about him that makes it almost too easy to talk. We spent a good bit of time together the summer before last, and, although everyone thinks all we did was hook up, we actually spent most of our time talking. That one night he spent in my place was one of the best nights of my life. We spoke about second chances and needing a do-over without either of us explaining the reasons why. He didn’t pry, and I didn’t push, and it was perfect. I know everyone thinks we slept together, but we didn’t have sex. I had the best night’s sleep I’d had in years, cocooned in his warm, protective arms.
Kev’s a fantastic kisser, and he makes me feel safe and cared for, and a part of me wishes it could be more than that. But it won’t ever be. He isn’t interested in me like that, just like I’m not interested in him like that.
And he doesn’t make my body tingle and come alive the way the dickhead does.
Irony is a bitch. To pick up feelings for a dickhead like Brad is idiotic, even more so because he’s in love with my best friend. I don’t know what possessed me to throw caution to the wind last night. Deep down, I knew I was going to get hurt and that it’d only confuse things further.
Hearing him tell Ky I was some kind of experiment to help him get over Faye was a savage kick in the teeth. And a major blow to my do-over efforts. Last night had been magical. The first time I’ve been with a guy and really and truly let myself go. Let myself feel things and not be drunk or numb or self-conscious. With the way he adored my body, and the words that poured out of his mouth, I thought he had felt it too. I’d felt cherished and desired, but it was an illusion. A cruel joke. The universe’s perverted way of messing with me further. I was a damn fool. I was just another handy fuck to him, and the acknowledgment hurts. A lot. I’m in a whole world of pain today, and I’ve no one to blame but myself. I knew it would backfire on me, but I ignored all the warning signs, giving in to unprecedented lust.
Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5) Page 9