Keeping Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 3)

by Siobhan Davis

  After we’ve both showered and eaten and I’ve left a note for Brad under his door, we make our way to the garage. Kal throws our bags in the boot, and I’ve a mad case of déjà vu. I’m hoping we make it farther than the end of the driveway this time.

  Kal is quiet the entire trip to Harvard, but I don’t bug him. I wasn’t messing when I said he isn’t a morning person. He’s definitely more of a night owl.

  The contrast on campus is marked. Last time, Brad and I arrived at around the same time on a Saturday, and the place was like a ghost town. Today is the start of a new week, and it’s a hive of activity. Students with heavy book bags and determined faces brush past us in a hurry. “I hope we’re not too late.” I quicken my pace, tugging on Kal’s jacket to move him the fuck along until we’re basically jogging toward my cousin’s dorm.

  “Slow down,” he pleads, a few minutes later, bending at the waist. “I’ve got a stitch.”

  A good-looking guy with dark blond hair jogs past us, turning around to give me a brief once-over. I narrow my eyes, and he blows me a kiss. My cheeks inflame, and I quickly look away. Kal snorts, and I glare at him. “You need to do something about that, buddy,” I say, deliberately ignoring what just happened. “Your lack of fitness is pathetic. I’ve seen geriatrics run more energetically than you.” He growls at me, and I chuckle. “Man up and move it.” I’ve no time for excuses today. Grumbling derogatory comments under his breath, he limps after me while I try to get a handle on my anxiety, which is currently ricocheting off the charts.

  Kal is red in the face by the time we make it to Kaden and Keven’s door, and I’ve pretty much chewed my nails to the bone. I rap firmly on the door, and when I don’t get an immediate reply, I rap again, even louder this time. “Open up!” I yell, pounding on the door. “We’re not leaving until you let us in.”

  The creaking of a door opening has me glancing over my shoulder. A tall girl with shocking blue eyes and a mass of red corkscrew curls steps out of the room across the way, eyeing me warily. A guy who looks like her male equivalent lounges against the doorframe with amusement in his eyes.

  “Mind your own business!” I hiss at them as my cousin’s door finally swings open, and I almost tumble into Kaden’s arms.

  He sighs, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t need to ask why you’re here, but I’d rather not air our business in the corridor.” He shoos us into the room, deliberately eyeballing the girl across the way. “Nothing to see here, Tiff.” He wiggles his fingers at her as he slams the door shut.

  Keven saunters out of his bedroom, yawning. He’s in his bare feet, with low-hanging pajama bottoms on and nothing else.

  And, oh em gee.

  Wow.

  I knew Kev was hiding some rocking muscles and interesting tattoos underneath his shirt but nothing like this.

  Kev is shredded. Like seriously shredded. There isn’t an ounce of fat on his torso, and he has, like, an eight-pack and defined indents at the point where his hips snake into his pants. Ky is totally ripped, and completely lick-worthy, but Kev makes him look like a lazy prick.

  Kev clearly works out.

  A lot.

  I’m suddenly very intrigued by my elusive cousin. I know next to nothing about him, only that he’s an enigma wrapped up in an enigma.

  I know I’m ogling him in a way that’s definitely not socially acceptable, but I’ve never seen such a carved specimen of a man. I’m struggling to focus on anything else in the room.

  “Throw a shirt on before Faye’s eyes bug out of her head,” Kaden drolls with a smirk, and Kal chuckles.

  Planting my hands on my hips, I blush furiously as I send Kaden the evil eye. “Funny, ha, ha. Where’s Ky?” I look around the room for any evidence of my boyfriend. Kaden and Keven exchange a look, and I lose whatever sliver of patience I possess. Brushing past Keven, I quickly check all the other rooms, immediately confirming our initial suspicions. “He’s not here,” I tell Kal. “Was he ever here?” I alternate my accusatory expression between Kaden and Keven. They share another loaded look, and I’m getting more and more pissed by the second. “Where is he?” I shriek. “I’m really worried about him, so if you know anything, you need to tell us.” Kaden rubs his taut jaw, and I step forward until we’re toe to toe. “Please.”

  “Crap.” He sighs. “He won’t be pleased about this.”

  “I don’t care,” Keven says, materializing alongside me. “I don’t like the idea of him going there on his own. If we can’t go, at least let them follow him. I know he thinks he needs to do this alone, but he needs someone with him.”

  “So, you do know where he is. You lied to me.” Kal sulks unhappily.

  Keven at least has the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry about that, but our loyalties were torn.”

  “Tell us everything you know. Right. Now,” I demand.

  “Bossy much, Faye?” Kaden’s lips twitch, fighting a smile.

  “Screw you, Kaden. I love him, and every second we’re wasting is another second he’s by himself dealing with all this shit. And I haven’t heard a word from him despite the millions of texts and messages I’ve sent, and I’m totally freaking out here. So, just tell us before I lose my Goddamned mind,” I shriek, worrying my lip between my teeth.

  Kaden’s warm hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Faye. I didn’t realize he hadn’t been in touch at all. He’s been keeping in contact with me. He’s okay.” I try, and fail, to hide my hurt. My cousins trade knowing looks.

  “He’s an idiot, Faye,” Kal says, “but this is his way of trying to protect you. Don’t read into it. He’s crazy about you and just not thinking straight right now.”

  “I know, but I hate that he’s cut me out. I hate that he’s out there wrestling with this on his own. It’s not right.” I move my shoulders from side to side, trying to loosen the tight kink.

  “He’s gone to Wisconsin to find our father,” Keven confirms. “Give me your cell and I’ll plug in the coordinates. The house is a nightmare to find.” Kal hands his phone over and Keven leaves the room with it.

  “How was he when you saw him?” I examine Kaden’s troubled eyes.

  “Hurting. Angry. All emotions Kev and I are familiar with. We tried to talk him out of going, at least until he’d properly thought it through, but you know how impulsive and stubborn he is.”

  “Here,” Keven says, giving the phone back to Kal. “I’ve added the coordinates to the GPS app, and I’ve also installed the cell tracker app so you can pinpoint his exact location once you get into town.”

  “He stopped in a motel for a few hours last night, but he’s still got a good five or six hours’ head start on you,” Kaden says. “Hopefully you’ll catch up to him before he visits the jerk.”

  “Is he really all that bad?” Kal asks.

  Keven rubs his thumb idly over his bottom lip. “It’s virtually impossible to describe him in a way that will fully prepare you. He’s a foul-mouthed drunk with an addiction to cheap whores and cheap booze. His house is a cesspit, and he had nothing nice to say to us. Nothing.”

  “I don’t think Ky has any huge expectations,” Kaden adds, “but he needs to meet him. It might help.”

  “I spent so long thoroughly pissed at Mom and Dad, but once I met that man, it was easier for me to understand and accept their decision. I don’t agree that meeting him is what’s best for Ky, but he’s old enough to make his own decisions,” Keven admits with a troubled frown. “Ky may be furious with Mom right now, but she did us a solid keeping us away from that A-hole. He’ll see that too,” he adds.

  “Okay, thanks. We better head.” I stride purposefully toward the door.

  “Will you tell Mom and Dad?” Kal asks, and I turn back around.

  “Not unless we absolutely have to. We’ll tell them we know where you are, that you’re in contact with us, and you’ll be home a
s soon as you can. They’ll just have to accept that,” Kaden confirms.

  “Thanks, bro.” Kal slaps him on the back.

  “Mind your cousin,” Kaden says, pinning him with a serious look. “And don’t let her go anywhere by herself. You never know what weirdos you might meet in some of these places.”

  I look up at the ceiling, summoning patience I don’t have. “I’m not twelve, and I know how to take care of myself. I took self-defense classes at home for years.”

  “If anything happens to you, we’re all in the firing line. Dad would never forgive us, neither would Ky, so just stay by Kal’s side. Please.” He batters his forearms.

  I thrust my hands in the air, annoyed over such a flippant waste of time. “Fine, fine. I promise. Happy?” I send him my best fake smile.

  “Ecstatic,” he drawls, and my bad mood flitters away. Kaden’s got a lethal sense of humor that I enjoy.

  Keven sees us to the door. “Good luck.” He high-fives his brother. “You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter Five

  Kyler

  I skip breakfast the next morning—no point in risking food poisoning—and get back on the road nice and early. Dawn is transforming to daylight as I speed up the motorway, blasting the stereo to the max, desperately hoping it’ll drown out the thoughts in my head.

  At lunchtime, I pull off into a small dirt town, find a local diner, and load up before returning to the truck.

  I make good time, reaching my destination a couple hours after nightfall. Bayfield is a small quaint town in North Wisconsin, famous for being the gateway to the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore, or at least that’s what the sign entering town tells me. Picturesque and charming, it’s hard to imagine famed motocross legend Doug Grant living somewhere like this. The main thoroughfare consists of a variety of standard stores, eclectic retail shops, and a few bars and restaurants facing either side of a wide street. I pull my truck into a space in front of one of the restaurants and make my way inside.

  I’m still staring at a full plate of food a half hour later. My appetite has vanished along with my resolve. But thoughts of turning around and running back home with my head tucked between my legs are less appealing.

  “You want me to heat that up, honey?” The waitress with the strawberry-blonde hair asks, jutting her hip out to the side as she levels an inquisitive glance at me. While she’s heavily made up, I doubt she’s more than a couple years older than me.

  “It’s okay,” I say, pushing the plate toward the edge of the table. “I’m done.” I throw a twenty down and rise.

  “You okay, honey? You look a little green in the face.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, before leaning forward to give me a flash of her full cleavage. Her eyes examine mine with open curiosity.

  “I’m fine.” I force a smile on my face, hoping she’ll move out of my way now.

  “Was there something wrong with the food?” She frowns, looking down at my untouched plate.

  “Nope. Just lost my appetite.” My forced smile is even less plausible this time.

  “You sure, ‘cause I can have a word with the chef. Get him to cook ya som—”

  I rudely cut her off. “Is there something wrong with your ears? I said I’m not hungry. It’s hardly a crime.” My tone is purposely harsh. I’m in no mood to waste time small-talking with some hick waitress in some two-bit town. I want to go meet the sperm donor, get a few things off my chest, and then leave this Godforsaken place.

  “That’s some mighty big chip you got on your shoulder.” She moves sideways, scowling at me as I ease out of the booth past her.

  “Whatever.” I shrug. Not like I’ll be seeing her again anytime soon.

  “Suit yourself, asshole.” Her mouth pulls up in a sneer as she grabs my plate and the twenty and turns on her heel.

  I was an asshole to her, but that’s my prerogative. She’s supposed to be nice to the clientele, no matter what. It’s little wonder the place is empty if that’s how she speaks to most of her customers.

  It takes twenty minutes to get to the sperm donor’s place. Kev programmed the exact location into the GPS app on my phone, and now I know why. This place is miles out of town, in the middle of nowhere. I passed the last house about ten miles back, and I can see jack-shit in the pitch dark. There are no street lamps or signs this far out of town. The roads are narrow and bumpy, and I’m grateful I had the foresight to rent a truck. I park at the end of the lane that leads to his house and try to calm my beating heart. I don’t know how long I sit there, but it’s at least a half hour before a small red car swings into the lane and disappears out of sight. It was too dark to see the occupant, so either it’s him or he has company. Great. I wasn’t planning on having a showdown with witnesses.

  I pull out my cell and send a quick message to Kaden letting him know I’m here. He wishes me luck, but I know it’s a futile sentiment. No amount of luck is going to make this visit any less nauseating.

  I wait another hour before deciding to close the distance. If it was a visitor, I’d presume they’d be gone by now, so it’s must’ve been him. The sperm donor. My father.

  Swallowing the bitter lump in my throat, I crank the truck into gear and turn into the lane. A small, dilapidated building looms before me. The grubby whitewashed walls are in dire need of painting, and overgrown weeds cling to the sides of the house, looking like they’ve had free rein to reproduce for years. The two-story property has a small veranda out front that is well worn and in ill-repair. An old wooden love seat, missing a few panels, swings gently in the late-night breeze. A light is on in one of the upstairs windows and in one of the ground-level rooms. I get out of the truck on shaky legs, wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans as I approach the house.

  I hop up the steps, faltering in front of the door with my hand raised.

  It’s now or never.

  Nausea swims up my throat, and the urge to hurl is riding me hard. Before I can chicken out, I rap firmly on the door.

  My heart is thumping against my ribcage as the door swings open. My gaze widens for a fraction of a second before I regain control.

  “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in.” The waitress from the diner lounges against the doorframe, eyeing me from head to toe. She’s wearing a thin negligee with no underwear, and judging by the tangled state of her hair and her swollen lips, I’d say she’s just been royally screwed.

  Her sharp eyes miss nothing. “Like what you see?” She puts a hand on her hips, thrusting her chest out as she licks her lips provocatively.

  “Who is it?” A gritty, slurred voice rings out from somewhere inside the house.

  “Some asshole with your eyes,” she yells back over her shoulder.

  There’s a loud scraping sound, followed by heavy footfall, and then a tall, broad-shouldered man appears behind her. Planting a meaty hand on her waist, he eyeballs me with vacant curiosity. His tan face is craggy, with deep lines, and there’s at least a few day’s growth of gray-tinged stubble on his chin. His dark hair is littered with generous strips of gray, and it’s on the longish side, curling around his ears and his neck. Eerily familiar pale blue eyes meet mine. His gaze rakes over me slowly. Then he guffaws, throwing back his head and laughing. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  My spine stiffens as I glare at him.

  “Was wondering when you’d make an appearance. Figured you had more gumption than those other two idiots who showed up here a few months back.”

  A muscle clenches in my jaw, and he laughs again.

  “Care to enlighten me, Dougie?” his young fuck buddy asks.

  Doug’s fingers slither into the front of her nightdress, and his large hand cups one of her bare breasts. She arches into him with a whimper, and bile swims up my throat.

  “Meet Kyler Kennedy, sweetheart.” He pinches her nipple, grinning at me the whole time. “M
y son.”

  Chapter Six

  Kyler

  That out of body experience thing is happening again. Doug Grant, a.k.a. sperm donor, is sprawled in a worn leather reclining chair in his squalid living room, wearing a filthy wife-beater with his beer gut spilling over the band of his low-hanging jeans, eyeing me like it’s physically paining him to look at me. He’s still a good-looking dude—age notwithstanding—but he looks like a lazy motherfucker. I cannot believe my mother went out with this skeeze.

  “You got a sexy fuck buddy, son?”

  My ears transmit the words; I just can’t believe them. This entire conversation is getting weirder by the second. “What?” I sit up straighter on a springy couch that’s plainly seen better days. It’s obvious from the state of the place that my father doesn’t take pride in his home. Cluttered ashtrays adorn most of the hard surfaces in the room along with a myriad of unwashed plates, bowls, empty pizza boxes, and a multitude of empty beer cans. A half-full whiskey bottle rests in a convenient spot at his feet.

  Bending down, he snatches the bottle up and twists the top off with his teeth. He fills up his glass. “Sure you don’t want some?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “So, you got a piece of ass?”

  “I have a girlfriend,” I stupidly admit. Leave Faye out of this. This isn’t going the way I’d expected it to go at all. Based on what my brothers said, I thought he’d kick my ass to the curb straightaway. Maybe shout at me a bit. Tell me to get lost and never come back.

  Not invite me in, offer me a drink, and throw one disgusting question after another at me. It’s knocked me off my A-game.

  Thoughts of sitting down with James and having a similar type of conversation raise a small smile to my lips. Dad would pitch a fit if he was here for this conversation. Doug misinterprets my expression. Leaning over, he slaps me on the back. “That’s my boy. You got a picture?”