Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “You can’t have him in your life, but you are going to have not just one, but two of his children?” Matt hissed, incredulous.

  “Something like that,” Kennedy muttered. It did sound sort of ridiculous. “Look, you don’t understand how he destroyed me back then. I was a sixteen-year-old kid, who thought that the football star had finally paid attention to her. I gave him everything that night at the prom, and during the summer, I found out I was pregnant. I tried to call him but apparently he had gone to some football camp. I left messages but he never got back to me. Then I…” Kennedy choked on her emotions, that long ago morning of the first day of school rushing into her mind and knocking her into numbness, “…then I found out about your game. I found out I was just a score. So I went home and did the first thing that came to mind, I took a bunch of my father’s medication.”

  “Dear God!”

  “But I’m still here and the baby survived. My secret was out. You don’t understand the shame I had to go through. Not being able to get over the disappointment my father had in me before he died.” Kennedy angrily swiped the tears off her face. “Now my son is dying! I can’t handle that and Ryan at the same time.”

  Kennedy watched Matt as he studied her. Then after a full minute of silence, he pulled out his checkbook and wrote her a check. “I’m sorry about your son. But you need to tell Ryan.”

  Her jaw trembled as she exhaled a labored breath. She stared at the check in her hands. Fifty thousand dollars would cover most, if not all, of Riley’s medical expenses. Why couldn’t she have been a match? But even if she was, she didn’t have the money for the procedure.

  Maybe her problems were solved.

  Maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with Ryan Carville ever again.

  It was what she wanted. It was for the best.

  So why did that possibility leave her feeling so hollow inside?

  • • •

  “Kennedy! Kennedy Riley Bailey!”

  Kennedy cringed. When her mother called her by all three of her names, something was wrong. She felt like she was a little kid again, and even the thought of crawling under her bed, crossed her mind. But she couldn’t do that. Riley had finally started his chemotherapy, and she was cleaning him up from the last time he got sick.

  “Grammy is angry,” Riley whispered.

  “I think Mommy is in trouble.” Kennedy hoisted Riley out of the bathtub and walked him into her bedroom. “I’m in here, Mama.”

  “What is this?” Rebecca walked into the room fuming, waving a magazine in her hand.

  “What’s what?”

  “I’ll let you put Riley to bed first.” Rage burned white hot in her mother’s eyes, as she watched Kennedy tuck in her son.

  As soon as Kennedy pulled the door closed, her mother slammed the magazine against her chest. “Didn’t I teach you anything about privacy!”

  “What are you talking ab—,” Kennedy’s throat clogged up as she stared at the picture of the tabloids front page. It was a picture of her and Ryan. Ryan on his knees in front of her. It was the elevator at the hotel.

  “Shit!” They were both idiots for not checking if there were cameras in there first.

  “Watch your mouth,” Rebecca shot back. “Flip through the pages.”

  Kennedy turned to the next page and there she was with Matt at the café. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she read the caption: Agent Matt Walker paying for his client Ryan Carville’s call girl.”

  • • •

  “Matt, what is this?” Ryan kicked in Matt’s office door and tossed the tabloid at him.

  “Don’t need yours; I’ve got my own copy.” Matt grimaced. “I can explain.”

  “Explain what? Are you also sleeping with her?” Ryan couldn’t suppress the rage that was boiling through him. He couldn’t imagine any other man—let alone Matt—touching Bailey the way he did.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? She’s sexy?” He goaded Matt, perversely offended now.

  Matt’s expression turned foreboding. He looked almost sheepish, as he said quietly, “Her name is also Kennedy Bailey, your prom sacrifice.”

  “What?” Ryan dropped into the chair next to him. Her name is also Kennedy Bailey, your prom sacrifice. The words rang in Ryan’s ears as memories of the gawky heavyset girl with braids flashed in his mind. He had trouble reconciling the image with the sexpot who’d introduced herself as Bailey, though the name alone should have been a giveaway. “What? Why did she do this? Did she want money?”

  “Yes, and she also wanted your sperm.”

  His jaw dropped. So he’d been right after all. It was a scheme, a set-up. “She wants to trap me?”

  “She wants nothing to do with you.” Matt chuckled briefly as if the idea of Ryan being rejected was funny, but Ryan didn’t think it was amusing at all. “She wants another kid by you so that she can save the one you gave her in high school.”

  The one he gave her in high school? Ryan stared into Matt’s gaze and felt his stomach flip over. For a split second, the thought—he hoped in vain—that this was just a joke, a sick joke his friend had decided to play on him. But Matt’s eyes didn’t hold their usual humor. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

  Matt nodded. “You have a five-year-old son. Riley.”

  Ryan thought he felt his heart drop from his chest into his stomach. He had a son. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” He stared at his best friend as if he was seeing him for the first time.

  “Not long. She forced me not to tell you, threatened to tell the press. I had to think of your career, your endorsements. I had to protect you, Ry.”

  Ryan shook his head and regarded his friend in a new light. Matt had betrayed him. The one person he was supposed to trust with his life had betrayed him.

  • • •

  Ryan stumbled into his house, his eyes focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. He took a swig from his bottle of whiskey, then cradled it to his chest. He had a kid and possibly another baby on the way. He knew that he should probably be with Bailey—Kennedy—at that moment, demanding answers, but she wasn’t in the phone book, and he had no idea where she lived. He wished that she had told him about this herself. Five years ago. But he couldn’t blame her for protecting herself and their son. He was sick. He was the worst father and probably the worst human being that ever walked the earth.

  And he was angry at Kennedy. Then he was angry at himself for being angry. What other choice had he given her? He had skipped town right after prom. It was his fault that they were both in this situation, that his son grew up without a father and that he was sick. Ryan crawled into bed and let sleep take over. He was too exhausted, hurt and angry to do anything else but sleep.

  The next morning, his head pounded with each stride that he took. He swallowed the bile burning the back of his throat and tried to ignore the pain in his temples. Ryan didn’t know how he was going to survive practice, while the excesses of the previous night sent pain like shards of glass into his skull.

  “Ryan, I found her.”

  “Where did you come from?” His hands flew to his ears to try and regulate the piercing excitement in Matt’s voice, peering at his friend who loomed over the foot of the bed.

  “You gave me a key.”

  “Give it back! You are no friend of mine.”

  “I am your best friend. I found them, Ryan.” It took his hungover mind a minute to understand what Matt was telling him, “You found Bailey and Riley?”

  “I did. This hot number at the bank helped me. Of course, I had to ask her on a date and bribe her with Rebel championship tickets and she—”

  “MATT!”

  “Sorry, I’ve got an address.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “You’ve got practice, Ryan. And the championship in two weeks. If you aren’t here every single day, they’ll give your spot to that new kid they just traded for. You worked too hard for this, bro. Don’t throw it away now.”<
br />
  “Are you going to give me the address?”

  “Not until the end of practice.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “Best friend, huh?”

  “The very best.” Matt offered him an apologetic smile. “Now get your ass to practice. I’ll drive you.”

  Ryan agreed to go to practice, not because Matt had told him to, but because he was postponing the inevitable. He needed to get his alcohol-soaked head together. Most importantly, he had to find the right words to apologize, to offer his help and to convince Kennedy to let him help. And he needed to push his anger aside, no matter how difficult. Ryan had tried convincing himself not to be angry, to take the blame. But Kennedy had kept his son away from him. All this time she could have told him, it didn’t matter how big of a grudge she had for him.

  But that didn’t matter now. It couldn’t.

  His son needed him.

  Chapter Eight

  Kennedy refused to let herself intrude on her son’s privacy. According to her mother, Riley was five years old and not entitled to any privacy, and as his mother, it was Kennedy’s responsibility to stop him from doing what he had now become obsessed with. But Kennedy was scared. She couldn’t stare into her son’s little face and try to explain why what he was doing was wrong. She sat on the floor by his bedroom door and listened as he cried; her heart wrenched with each tear he shed.

  Riley stood in front of his mirror with one of her hairbrushes. With each stroke, he lost a strand of hair, a tear rolled down his cheek, and a whimper escaped his lips. Kennedy tried to force herself to her feet, but she couldn’t. Watching him had paralyzed her. She was just as weak if not weaker than Riley. But unlike him, her weakness did not result from the poison rushing though his veins, but from the pain throbbing in her heart.

  “You need to stop this madness, Kennedy.” Rebecca stood over her, anger and tears burning bright in her eyes.

  Kennedy shrugged her shoulders and turned away when Rebecca marched into Riley’s room and grabbed the hairbrush from him. She heard him let out a piercing cry, and that was quickly followed by her mother’s sobs. Riley was asking why he was sick, why he was losing his hair, and why he was being punished. Rebecca, lost for words, could only cry. And the combined symphony of their pain was too much for Kennedy to bear.

  Jumping to her feet she made her way to the front door. She needed to get out, to get away. More than anything, Kennedy needed to find a space in this world that didn’t involve pain, because in the past six years, pain was all she had come to know.

  When Kennedy pulled the front door open, a pair of icy blue eyes and a furious scowl met her gaze. Anger emanated from Ryan’s whole body. Behind him, Matt stood, his eyes looking past her, the guilt evident in his expression. Kennedy didn’t know why she tried, but her first instinct was to shut the door. But the quarterback had more strength than she did. With his foot, he was able to block her attempt and with a powerful hand, he pushed her out of the way and marched into her tiny house.

  “Where is he?” Ryan demanded.

  “Where is who?” Kennedy’s pain was gone. She was relieved, but that was quickly replaced by anger.

  “Where is my son?” Ryan barked.

  “You don’t have a son,” Kennedy said firmly.

  With one giant step, Ryan was suddenly an inch away from Kennedy. His hands balled into fists at his sides and his eyes held a storm waiting to be unleashed. “Don’t play with me. I know I have a son. I’m sorry about how he was conceived, but that doesn’t change the fact that I have a son.”

  “Mommy?”

  • • •

  Ryan’s body turned towards the frail little voice. Immediately he shut his eyes, and for a second, he wished he hadn’t walked into her house, wished he hadn’t met her at the bar, and desperately wished he hadn’t taken part in that stupid game back in high school. His heart couldn’t bear the sight that stood in front of him. On the car ride over, Matt had told him Riley was sick, but he left out the part of how sick he was. Chancing a second look at his son, he slowly opened his eyes, but this time Riley was in his mother’s arms.

  “What happened to his hair?” Ryan cautiously asked, part of him wishing that he hadn’t.

  “It’s falling out.” Kennedy’s strangled reply seared through him. “Chemotherapy.”

  For the first time since his unwelcomed entrance, Ryan looked at Kennedy. He studied her and noticed the droop in her shoulders, she looked thinner than the last time they were together, her eyes were puffy and red, and sadness loomed within them. He had only seen Riley for a second, and the shock had managed to knock the stuffing out of him. Kennedy had been here with Riley day and night, and Ryan could see the toll it was taking on her physically. He immediately regretted the anger with which he had entered her house. He was being a selfish brute.

  “I think you should tell him who I am,” Ryan said in an almost whisper. When Kennedy shook her head in disagreement, he knew he needed to prove himself.

  “I know who you are,” the little boy—his son—piped up. “You play for the Rebels. The Rebels are my favorite team.” Ryan appreciated the weak smile Riley had managed to give him.

  “I do.” He took a step towards them but paused when Kennedy backed up. It tore at his heart that she didn’t want him near their son. “Please,” he mouthed to her. With a subtle nod, he took a confident step towards them.

  Ryan stared into Riley’s face, immediately noticing the color of his eyes. They were his eyes. Riley was a miniature version of him, aside from the deep toffee color of his skin and the dark ringlets of hair.

  His gaze darted up to lock on Kennedy’s. “You should have told me.”

  “I tried—” she stopped and turned to the older woman who’d come to stand in the doorway. “Mama, please take Riley and give him something to eat.”

  “No! I don’t want to eat anything.”

  Ryan watched as Riley’s jaw trembled and a tear rolled down his cheek. He saw how Kennedy swallowed hard and how her fingers trembled as she wiped her stray tear. She forced a smile and kissed Riley’s cheek, “How about you have some Fruit Loops? Do you want to try that?” Riley nodded and willingly went with his grandmother but not before he gave Ryan a little wave.

  “How bad is it?” Ryan asked, his eyes following Riley as he disappeared into another room.

  “It’s the chemotherapy. It’s wearing him out.” Kennedy dropped onto the sofa and let out a breath that was quickly followed by sobs.

  “I’ll just go sit in the car.” Matt, who’d been silent this whole time, excused himself.

  Ryan waited till the door swung shut behind his friend and sank down next to Kennedy, reaching for her hand. Surprisingly, she let him take it. “I want to put him on my insurance. My lawyer says you will need to sign a few things to say that I’m his birth father. I also want the three of you to move in with me—”

  “We don’t need all that.” Kennedy cut him off, jerking her hand away. “The insurance maybe, but I won’t have you appear and disappear from his life. He can’t handle that; I sure as hell couldn’t.”

  Ryan winced at the accusation. Matt had told him about her suicide. If she had succeeded, he wouldn’t have a child. He’d never have known his son. “You are the mother of my son and possibly, we could be having a second child.” He paused, musing “You know, I found it odd that you never insisted on using protection.”

  “That would have defeated the purpose, don’t you think?” Kennedy stared at him for a while before she finally asked, “We have survived this long without you. You can’t come here and take over.”

  “I’m not trying to take over. You are a great mom,” he said in defeated tone. “I just want to be with my family.” Ryan paused, not sure what he wanted her answer to his next question to be. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.” She shook her head then said, more softly, “I don’t know.”

  “Where were you going before
we arrived?” Ryan had seen the look on her face when she opened the door, just before she had spotted him. He knew that look; she was running away.

  “I don’t know. But I- I couldn’t take it anymore. He was pulling out his own hair and crying. I just—”

  Ryan nodded in understanding. “I’m here now, and we are going to do this together. When does he need the bone marrow transplant?”

  “In a few weeks, after they are done with the chemotherapy and maybe radiation. Why? If I’m pregnant, you don’t need to be involved, so why do you want to know?”

  “Because I am going to be his donor.” Kennedy’s eyes widened and she stared at him in amazement. “A few weeks and we’ll be done with the season, too, so that’s good.”

  Her face fell, her gaze narrowing instantly. “Do you care about anything apart from football and yourself?”

  Ryan was about to give his own sharp retort, but he remembered what he had put her through. He was a grown up now though, with a child—or children—to look after. “Football is my job, and I can’t stop working. It’s looking like we’ll win the division championships, and if we can win the Super Bowl, there’ll be endorsement deals. We need the money to pay for his treatments and anything else he might need in the future. And then there is the new baby—”

  “I don’t know if I’m pregnant,” she ground out. Kennedy was slowly losing it.

  “Do you want to find out?” he asked. “We could go to the drugstore and get a pregnancy test.”

  “I don’t think I could handle a negative result. Because if I’m not and you bail, what happens to Riley?”

  Ryan opened his mouth to assure her he would never turn his back on Riley, or her, again. But he knew Kennedy probably wouldn’t trust anything he said at this moment. If the situation was different, and if they had time, he would work hard to prove he was worth having in their lives.

  But they didn’t have time. His son was going to die if he didn’t step up and do the right thing here. He had to convince her that he could help. Correction: he had to convince her to let him help. But how? Only one crazy solution came to mind.