Mom takes the keycard from Faye without another word, returning to the reception desk. Kal is the only one to wait for her. Dad takes the elevator with us, and we ride to the top floor in awkward silence. We reach our door first.
“Kyler.” Dad sounds nervous. “I’d really like to speak with you.”
I rest my forehead on the door, squeezing my eyes shut. It’s not that I want to shut him out. I know he’s hurting as much as me, and that’s the whole point. I can barely handle my own pain, so how the hell am I expected to deal with his too?
“Please, son. I need you to hear me out.” His voice is choked with emotion, and that decides it for me. For years, I’ve harbored anger at his failure to protect me the one time I really needed him to. For years, I’ve enjoyed taking Mom’s side in arguments purely to punish him. For years, I’ve picked fights with him, knowing it stressed him out and relishing that fact. These last few months have inflamed my anger—his affair with Courtney, his handling of the situation with Kent, his collusion with Mom in hiding the truth about Keven and Kaden, the sick revelation of his relationship with his sister, all adding fuel to the fire—and I’ve taken pleasure from watching him struggle.
But I don’t take pleasure in this.
I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
For the first time, all my rage is reserved for my mother, and my full sympathy is with Dad.
It won’t kill me to do this for him.
And I think I need it as much as he does.
I pick my head up, turning to face him. “Okay.”
Chapter Twelve
Kyler
The look of blatant relief on his face has me feeling all kinds of guilty for running away without giving any consideration to his feelings. Faye opens the door to our room and dumps our bags quickly. “I’m going to scout out the hotel. I’ll leave you two to chat in private.”
“You don’t have to leave.”
“I won’t be far. Text me when you’re done, and I’ll come back up.” She hugs me, and my arms automatically wind around her waist—I love holding her close. “Open up to him,” she whispers in my ear. “Tell him how you’re feeling. I promise you’ll feel better for it.”
I cup her face in both hands, and kiss her briefly. “I love you.” I don’t care that Dad hears. “Thank you for standing by me.”
“I love you too.” Her whole face lights up like a glow worm. She pecks Dad on the cheek, squeezing his arm as she passes.
Silence descends when the door closes after her. I shuffle anxiously on my feet, looking everywhere but at him.
“I’m glad you have her by your side.”
“Me, too.”
“I’m going to make a coffee. Would you like one?”
I look up. “Um, sure.”
Dad fixes coffees while I take a seat at the small circular glass dining table. My eyes scan the room flippantly. It’s not as plush as the suite we had back in the last hotel, but it’s a decent size, and it has a nice balcony too. It’ll suffice for however long we’re forced to remain here.
Dad hands a cup to me, and I accept it gratefully. “Thank you.”
He claims the seat across from me, clasping the cup between his large hands, as he stares at me. I stare back, seeing the same hurt and confusion in his eyes. “How are you coping?” he asks finally.
I shrug.
“Your mother and I have made our fair share of mistakes, I know that, and I’m no saint, but this …” He clamps a hand over his mouth, and I’m horrified when tears flood his eyes. “This is the worst betrayal. I can’t believe she lied to me all these years. Now, I understand why she was so insistent on keeping the news from Kaden and Keven in the first place. She knew this would come out eventually, and she was doing everything she could to avoid facing facts.”
“You never suspected?” I take a tentative sip of my coffee.
He vigorously shakes his head. “No. Never. You’re a lot like me in so many ways, Ky, and I always thought our relationship was strained because we were so similar. This has … this has destroyed me.”
“How do you think I’ve felt?” I put my coffee down, unable to swallow over the tears clogging my throat.
Silence engulfs us again. There’s so much I want to say but can’t get out. I’m generally not good with heavy emotional stuff.
He leans back in his chair, sighing. “I’m upset because it’s made a mockery of my memories, made a mockery of my marriage, and everything I thought I knew, but, it wouldn’t be killing me in here”—he slams a hand over his heart—“if I didn’t love you so much.” His eyes pool with tears, and I’m struggling to keep a grip on my own composure.
I’m not going to cry again.
Especially not in front of him or Mom.
“That will never change, and you will always be my son. That awful man may have played a part in your creation, but he will never replace me as your father.”
My chest tightens. Dad’s words hang in the air, and the anguished look on his face makes him appear more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. I remember how distraught he was the day he found out that Faye’s mom had been killed, but that pales in comparison with how he looks now. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out, and he frowns. “For running off without speaking to you. For fighting with you all these years. It seems so pointless now.”
And it does. I think back to all the arguments we’ve had and how I used to wish he wasn’t my dad. Now, I’d do anything to take those wishes back. To know he was my dad in every meaning of the word. To undo all knowledge of the sperm donor and of Mom’s betrayal. I don’t feel any grief or pity he’s dead. My only feelings where he’s concerned are selfish ones—I don’t want to end up being wrongly accused of his murder—and that’s the extent of it.
“That doesn’t matter now,” Dad says, stretching across the table to pat my hand. “All that matters is not losing you. I couldn’t bear to lose any more than I already have.”
My throat constricts, and speaking is becoming difficult. “I don’t want to lose you either.”
Dad stands up, tears freely flowing down his face. “I know you’re a grown man, but I really need to hug you right now.” He walks around the table, pulling me up and into his arms.
A sob rips from my throat, startling me. I lean into the hug, needing this more than I realized. “What do you say we use this as a fresh start?” He shifts a little so he can look me dead in the eye.
I nod, surprised at how genuine my response is. A do-over sounds pretty perfect. While it won’t change the facts, I’m so relieved that he still wants me in his life. That the mistakes of my past haven’t pushed him away. That calling me his son means so much to him.
I never realized before how much I need him.
How much I love him.
Why does it take the threat of losing someone to make you appreciate them in the way you should?
Faye and I spend the remainder of the evening half-heartedly watching old movies on the TV in our room. Later, we meet Dad and Kal for a late dinner in a private section of the dining room. Mom tried to talk to me earlier, but I made it clear I’m not ready for that showdown yet. I appreciate that she declined to join us for dinner, knowing full and well that if she attended I would have stayed in my room.
I don’t miss the surreptitious looks leveled my way as I walk hand in hand with Faye through the room after dinner. She glares at every person who dares look sideways at me, and it’s the first thing to bring a smile to my lips all day. She has no idea how much her loyalty and support means to me.
I’m lying flat on my back in our bed, staring blankly at the ceiling when Faye emerges from the bathroom bathed in a cloud of steam. Her hair is pinned in a messy bun on top of her head, her face is flushed red and scrubbed clean of makeup, and she has her candy-colored pajama shorts and tank top on. She looks so adorable, and I love th
at she doesn’t try to impress me. There’s nothing more attractive than a girl who’s confident in her own skin.
Addison was so tiring in that regard. While she was always groomed to perfection, she constantly sought out compliments. I was so naïve back then. I used to think she needed reassurance. Now, I know it was all down to vanity and her need to be the center of attention. Faye is her polar opposite and I couldn’t be happier about that. She doesn’t need praise or the adoration of her peers to feel comfortable in her own skin. She owns it effortlessly, and I love her so much for it. My eyes drink their fill, and my heart swells with everything I feel for her. She looks good enough to eat, and all the blood rushes to a certain part of my anatomy.
She leaps onto the bed, holding a glass bottle with a fancy label on it in her hand. She scoots to my side. “Roll over.” I quirk a brow. “Don’t ask. Just do.” I love her bossy side, and I do as I’m told, flipping over onto my stomach. She straddles me, pressing that soft part of her body against my ass and I’m rock hard in a split second. She rubs her hands together, before tossing the bottle on the bed beside her. “Now blank your mind and just relax.”
Her oily hands land on my bare back, instantly heating me all over. She kneads the knots in my shoulders before maneuvering her way along all the stiff muscles of my back. A moan flies out of my mouth as I sink lower into the mattress. Next, she runs her thumbs outward from my spine in strong, bold moves that penetrate bone deep. She keeps up a similar pattern, firmly kneading my back, loosening my muscles, and releasing some tension. My hard-on is digging into the bed almost painfully, and my skin is on fire from her skillful ministrations. When her fingertips flit lightly up and down my back, like a feather-soft brush sweeping across my skin, a heady moan slips out of my lips. “Where’d you learn to do this?” I murmur in an intoxicated voice.
“Mum did a course in massage and reflexology a few years ago,” she explains, continuing to sweep her fingers over my back. “I was her guinea pig, and she practiced on me every day for a month. It was great.” She laughs and it’s so wonderful to hear her speaking about her mother without the usual grief and hurt undercutting her tone. “I liked it so much I got her to show me some of her techniques.”
“Your hands are magic,” I rasp, and I know I sound like I’m high.
She chuckles. “So are yours.”
I take that as my cue, bumping her off and flipping around mega fast. I pull her down on top of me, angling my hips so she can tell how much I want her. Shuttering her eyes, she throws back her head and emits a throaty, breathy sound that supercharges my lust. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” I murmur before my mouth claims hers in a scorching hot kiss.
My hands are all over her, greedily caressing the creamy skin and generous cleavage hiding under her shirt. Her nipples are already hard, and she grinds her hips against me as I tweak her nipples playfully. Sitting up, she whips her top off, gyrating against me with wild abandon. We strip off the rest of our clothes, and when I thrust inside her, everything else is forgotten. In this moment, all that matters is how much I love the girl exploding on top of me and how amazing it feels to be moving with her like this.
We are lying flat on our backs, bodies slick with sweat and chests visibly heaving, exhausted from our lengthy lovemaking. With the tip of my finger, I make circular swirls on her stomach. Bending my head, I gently kiss the jagged scar running horizontally over her belly button.
When I think of everything we’ve been through, it’s amazing that we’ve gotten to this place. I couldn’t be any happier with this aspect of my life. “Being confined to this hotel for the next few days is looking more and more appealing,” I tease, grazing my nose up the column of her neck.
She giggles, squirming underneath me. “I agree completely.” Her hair is fanned out behind her head, and her entire face is flushed and glowing. She looks like a fucking goddess—all ethereal and shit.
“I love when you look at me like that,” she whispers, running the tip of her finger along my bottom lip.
I prop up on an elbow, pressing a delicate kiss to that sensitive spot just behind her ear. She shivers, and my chest puffs out with pride. “Like what?”
“Like you see right into me. Into all the hidden parts, and I’m exposed but I don’t feel afraid because I see the understanding and love shining in your eyes. And your eyes. God, Ky. They’re so dark and smoldering, and you consume me with such an intense look. It sets my body on fire.” Her eyes glaze over, and she emits a breathy gasp that reignites my desire. “But it’s more than lust. It’s completeness. I see your devotion and the accompanying emotion—it’s like you can’t get enough of me.”
“I do, and I can’t.” I plant a flurry of tiny kisses up and down her neck, and my body starts stirring to life again.
She palms the back of my head, forcing my gaze to hers. “I’m loving being here with you like this, but I’m worried about you too.”
I rub my thumb along the crease in her forehead, smoothing out the line. “I’m not gonna lie, I’m worried as well, but I didn’t kill him and I’ve got to hope that’s enough. And maybe you were right about that girl. Perhaps she did it.” I drop down on the pillow beside her, entwining my hand in hers. “Hell, it could be any number of suspects. A man like that has to have had a bucket load of enemies, and it’s not like I’m the only kid he fathered.”
She sits bolt upright, her hair tumbling in waves over her bare shoulders. “What do you mean by that?”
“He made some flippant comment about not caring for any of his kids. I got the sense he wasn’t just talking about me, Kaden, and Kev.”
She bites down on her lower lip, and a primal growl erupts from the back of my throat. I’m hard as a rock and ready for the next round. She glances down my body, and a lusty grin appears on her face. All conversation ends when she straddles me, lowering herself steadily on top of me, inch by slow inch.
A loud pounding on the door wakes us both up the next morning. “What the heck?” Faye asks in a sleep-drenched tone. I grab my jeans off the floor, hastily pulling them on as I head across the room. The last time we were in a hotel and there was a knock on the door it was the cops. I’m hoping I’m not in for a repeat experience.
I check the peephole, and a huge grin spreads over my face. I yank the door open and my brothers bail into the room without apology. Faye yelps, dragging the covers up under her chin. One by one, my brothers greet me, and I’m touched they came all the way here. Brad is the last to step inside, and his eyes lock on Faye’s before he’s even met mine. Although he plants an appropriate expression on his face as he turns to me, he isn’t quick enough to hide his blatant unhappiness, or his longing. That’s another situation that needs to be dealt with, but I’m leaving it for another day.
“Hey, man.” He punches me in the arm. “Good to see you.”
“You too.”
“How come you’re all here?” I ask Kaden.
“Dude, it’s Thanksgiving, and even though we’ve all this shit to wade through, family is family.”
“And Kennedys stick together,” Keven adds.
“Stop it!” Faye screeches, and I jump to her rescue.
Kal and Keaton are on either side of her on the bed, tugging playfully on the comforter and teasing her about her obvious nakedness. “Off. Now,” I demand. “As much as I love that you’re all here, you need to get out and let Faye get dressed. How about we meet downstairs for breakfast?” I suggest. “See if you can get that private section again, Kal.”
I shoo them all out, and then Faye and I take a shower together that turns into a steamy session in more ways than one. When we eventually make our entrance in the restaurant, my brothers clap loudly, adding a few catcalls into the mix. Faye buries her head in my neck, and I laugh. I’m so glad they’re here. This kind of distraction is exactly what I need.
Kade and Kev take me aside after brea
kfast, informing me that all my brothers know about my real dad. Apparently, Mom informed everyone before she left. I’m glad I don’t have to break that news. I tell them everything about my meeting with Doug on Monday night. Keven laughs. “I can’t believe you punched him. Wish I’d been a fly on the wall for that.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t punch him,” I retort, knowing Kev’s penchant for getting into trouble.
“I wanted to, but he had us out of his house so fast I never got the chance. At least he seemed to want to talk to you. Why was that?”
My stomach lurches to my toes as I lie. “Who knows?” I shrug, averting my eyes so I’m not lying to their faces. I want to tell my brothers about that, but I can’t face up to it yet.
“Perhaps he felt closer to you because of the motocross connection,” Kaden muses.
“Don’t say that,” I snap. “I hate that.” And I do. My ambition in relation to motocross seems tarnished now. I don’t want any connection to that man. While the media hasn’t reported on the fact he was my biological father, focusing instead on his murder and my arrest for questioning in relation to same, I know it’s only a matter of time before they discover the facts. Before they draw inevitable comparisons. Suddenly, motocross seems like a dirty word to me. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with that.
Kaden and Keven scowl at something or someone behind me, and all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. I know she’s there before I’ve even seen her, and I know I can’t avoid her forever.
“Kyler,” Mom says, materializing at my side. “I need to talk to you, and I’m not taking no for an answer today.”
Chapter Thirteen
Kyler
We’re in Mom’s suite, and I’m seated across from her on one of the couches waiting for her to speak.
Keeping Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 3) Page 10