This is from Chapter 30 of Losing Kyler and it shows some of the courtroom scene narrated from Kalvin’s point of view.
I keep my gaze dead ahead despite how every cell in my body strains toward her—like an invisible piece of string pulling tight between us. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long without seeing Lana. Without talking to her. Despite what she’s doing to me, despite the fear and the pain, I can’t stop myself from missing her like crazy. I should hate her, but I can’t find it in myself to. My fingers dig into the edge of the glossy mahogany table as my heart pounds expectantly in my chest.
The judge enters the courtroom, and then my attorney is nudging me subtly into my seat. I still don’t look over at her. I’m afraid to. Afraid of all the emotions it will drag to the surface. My life is on the line here today, and I’ve got to hold it together. One look at Lana and my carefully constructed façade will crumple.
The court dissolves into hushed murmurings when Lana is called to give evidence. I knew this was coming, and I thought I was prepared, but the second I hear her sweet voice, I rock back in my chair, accosted by a rush of conflicted emotions. I feel so many things for this girl. What a pity I hadn’t realized exactly how much before I hurt her so completely she felt compelled to lie in retaliation.
I keep my eyes glued to the top of the desk as the prosecutor starts his line of questioning. They start off nice and easy, and it isn’t hard to detect the underlying note of joy in her voice when she talks of our childhood. My mind easily resurrects the memories: Summers spent kiss-chasing in the grounds of our house, fooling about in the pool as we desperately tried to dunk one another, and eating ice cream and drinking Greta’s pink lemonade while stretched out on sun loungers, pretending to sun bathe and feeling so grown up. Her tone turns slightly wistful when she mentions visiting Nantucket, and I can imagine her cheeks are burning up at the thought of her last trip there.
We were thirteen and it was the first time I kissed her. Properly kissed her. Not like our kiss-chasing escapades that were more giggling and lame half-assed sloppy kisses than any real attempt to make out. That whole vacation was different. Hormones had been buzzing in my veins, and I’d been thinking about nothing else but kissing her from the minute we arrived at our house. She was sorting her bag for the return trip when I walked into her room and boldly kissed her. No warning. I just stomped up to her, bent down, and pressed my lips to hers. I can still see the shock splayed across her face. Still taste how soft and warm her lips felt against mine. It had been over almost as fast as it had begun because Mom walked into the room and caught us. Failing to disguise the look of absolute horror on her face, she had told me in a clipped tone of voice to go and pack up my things.
That was the last time Lana was invited to Nantucket with us, and thinking back on it now, the start of when everything went wrong.
I force myself to tune back into the current conversation, shaking all other thoughts from my mind. No good will come from thinking about all that shit now.
“At this time, Ms. Taylor, what were your feelings toward the defendant, Mr. Kalvin Kennedy?” the prosecutor asks, and I do the unthinkable. I lift my head up, taking my first look at her.
She looks tired and gaunt, like the weeks and months in between have taken a toll on her too. Her hair is pulled back in a harsh, tight ponytail, and her face is makeup-free, but she’s still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I know every inch of that face intimately from the smattering of tiny freckles across her nose to the slight scar transcending her right eyebrow, the result of her tripping over her book bag and falling headfirst into the sharp corner of the door.
Most every childhood memory I have links back to her. The entire fabric of my life is so intertwined with Lana’s that I don’t know how to exist without her.
A familiar pink stain is coloring her pale cheeks as she looks in my direction. Her warm hazel eyes don’t falter as she replies. “I was in love with him. I’d always been in love with him, but when I was younger, I hadn’t been able to put a name to it.”
I can totally relate.
“And how did Mr. Kennedy feel about you?”
I can’t look away now, even if I wanted to. Our eyes stay locked as she responds. “He told me he loved me too.”
I do. I still do.
“So, you two were in a relationship then,” the prosecutor paraphrases, pacing in front of the witness box.
Her mouth turns down, and my insides bunch into knots. “Not exactly.”
“Can you please elaborate for the court.”
“He, ah.” She stops to take a drink of her water. “He wanted to keep our relationship secret.”
To protect you! To keep you safe from all those who would say you weren’t good enough for me. Which is fucking ironic, because it was completely the other way. I’ve never been worthy of her.
The prosecutor turns around, facing me head-on with a look of perplexed surprise. What a fucking jackass. As if anyone is buying this clearly orchestrated scene. He relinquishes his gaze, turning around to Lana again. “And why was that?”
She averts her eyes, and I feel bereft without the intensity of her gaze. “He said it was to protect me, because others wouldn’t approve of us being together.”
And I was telling the truth.
“And you believed him?” The prosecutor quirks a brow, and Lana nods.
“You need to answer the question, Ms. Taylor,” the judge instructs.
“Yes,” Lana says, staring at me again. “I believed him.”
I want to jump up and tell her it was no word of a lie. That everything I said and did was to protect her. That all I’m guilty of is getting drunk and letting that slut Addison take advantage of me. And, yes, I know I should’ve resisted. Buzzed or not, I should’ve known better. For the rest of my life I will never forgive myself for that night. Never.
“And was this relationship an exclusive one?” the prosecutor asks next.
Her cheeks predictably flare up, and the urge to leap to her defense is a hard one to quash. After years of protecting her, it’s like second nature to me.
“Not at first, but then he promised me he was finished with other girls. That was when he told me he loved me.” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair, gazing at her lap and avoiding eye contact with anyone.
“Other girls?” The prosecutor pins me with a shocked look, and my middle finger twitches under the seat.
Lana sighs, moving uneasily in her chair. “Kal was… is a player. There have been plenty of other girls.”
Humiliation crushes me at her words. Words I can’t deny. It’s amazing how it only takes one life-threatening moment to put everything into perspective. I’ve had plenty of time on my hands these last couple of months to assess how I was living my life. There isn’t much to like about the person I’ve become. I’m an ass. Straight-up Douchey McDouche. Thought I could bang my way around town without any consequence. Happily hooked up with any girl willing to spread her legs for me thinking I was fucking cool. Fucking pathetic more like. The fact that I’d convinced myself I needed to get it all out of system before committing to the one girl—the only girl—I’ll ever give my heart to doesn’t in any way excuse my behavior. It just makes me more of an asshole.
“And how did that make you feel?” the prosecutor continues, and I wish Dr. Who would magically appear, jump out of the Tardis, and whisk me away from here before I hear her reply.
Lana eyeballs me. “Worthless. Invisible. Cheap.”
Important. Significant. Precious. She could take a knife to my insides, and it wouldn’t hurt as much. Even if I lived ten lifetimes, there is nothing I can do to make her realize how she is the complete opposite of all those things, because she’ll never believe another word that comes out of my mouth.
“And was this before or after he promised you exclusivity?” The fuckwit attorney conti
nues to stick the knife in deep.
“Before. When I tried to break things off with him, and I explained how it was making me feel, he told me he’d stop sleeping around. That he’d commit to me.”
And I did, Lana. I did.
“And what happened then?”
“He was more dedicated, and he seemed to be trying to prove he had changed his ways. I was happy.” Her eyes glisten, and it kills me. “He told me he loved me and I was the only girl for him. That he’d always imagined us together. That I was his future.” A tear rolls down her face and all I can do is stare, horrified.
She is the only girl for me. I never lied about that. About any of that. I had our future all mapped out, and I never entertained thoughts that it wouldn’t come to pass.
“What happened next?” The prosecutor is relentless, and I’d love to get up and smack him in the mouth.
Lana’s eyes briefly shutter. Her lip trembles, and that primal urge to rush to her side to comfort her is riding me hard again. Kent would have a field day if he could read my mind. He hasn’t stopped spewing crap about Lana from the minute this shit hit the fan, not that I expect him to understand. He is incapable of loving another living thing. Ky, on the other side of the spectrum, has been surprisingly understanding. Or maybe it’s not altogether unsurprising. He’s lost the girl he loves too, so he knows what this feels like. It doesn’t matter that Lana has done this. Brought us to this point, because, the way I see it, she hasn’t done this.
I have.
I drove her to do this.
It’s all on me.
And even if I go down for this, for something I didn’t do, I won’t ever blame her.
I love her.
I only wish it hadn’t taken me so long to fully realize it.
END OF LOSING KYLER BONUS CONTENT
Loving Kalvin
(The Kennedy Boys Book 4)
A friends-to-lovers second-chance romance from USA Today bestseller Siobhan Davis. Standalone with HEA and no cliffhanger.
Lana
I knew it would end in disaster, but I didn’t listen to reason. I didn’t care. Because I loved him so much.
Kalvin Kennedy ruled my heart.
Until he destroyed it.
Shattered it so completely that I became someone else. Someone I loathed. Someone who repeatedly lied to her loved ones.
So, I ran.
From him. From myself. Desperate to hide my new reality.
But I could only run so far.
When he reappears in my life, I’m terrified. Unbelievably scared of facing the consequences of my actions.
Never mind that I still love him and want him so badly—there’s too much at stake now.
How can I trust him with the biggest secret of all when he’s likely to rip my world apart again?
Kalvin
Lana was always far too good for me. Everyone knew it but her.
I tried to stay away, but I was weak.
And I hurt her.
Crushed her until she barely resembled herself. Forced her to follow a path she would never have willingly chosen.
And then she was gone.
And my world has never felt as empty, as lonely.
She begged me to stay away. Not to find her. To forget she ever existed.
But that’s like asking me to slice my heart in two and toss half aside.
I’ve never believed in fate, but when I rock up to the University of Florida, I’m ready to eat my words.
Because she’s here. Like I hoped she would be. And I’m determined to prove I deserve a second chance.
TURN THE PAGE TO READ A SAMPLE FROM THIS BOOK and KEEP READING FOR A FIRST LOOK AT SAVING BRAD.
Loving Kalvin Sample
Prologue
November Trial
Lana
I used to think I was a decent person.
Kind, mostly selfless, with a good sense of morality, a good heart.
But I was clearly mistaken.
Because a good, kind, selfless person doesn’t do the things I’ve done these last couple months.
A good person wouldn’t continue to lie.
A good person wouldn’t accuse the only boy who’s ever mattered of such a horrible thing.
“Lana, we need to leave in thirty minutes to ensure we get parking outside the courthouse,” Mom says, poking her head through the door. She checked us into adjoining rooms in the hotel because she’s terrified to let me out of her sight these days.
I look up from the desk, chewing on the corner of my pen. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”
Her expressive hazel eyes—so similar to my own—flit to the handwritten page in front of me. Straightening up, she levels a stern look at me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m writing Faye a letter,” I lie with the confidence of an expert deceiver. The lies just flow off my tongue like warm butter sliding off a knife these days.
I’m a total fraud, and I couldn’t hate myself any more if I tried.
I swallow the painful lump in my throat as I offer her a brittle smile.
“Why? You don’t owe that girl anything.” Her lips pull into a tight line.
“Don’t, Mom.” I shake my head. “She was my friend, and I owe her an explanation.”
“I beg to differ.” Mom crosses her arms over her chest. “Today is all the explanation she needs. Once you testify, she’ll understand exactly why you left without clarifying what happened. It was better that way. Leave it alone, darling.”
Nausea swims up my throat, and I doubt I’ll get through today without hurling. I could continue arguing with her, but then I won’t get my letter finished. And it’s too important to rush. “Mom, please. I don’t want to fight. Not today. I’m writing my friend a letter, and then I’ll put my suit on”—I gesture toward the black, shapeless monstrosity she laid out on the bed earlier—“and meet you in the lobby before we need to leave.”
Clearly noting the resolve in my tone and my expression, she backs down. “I don’t want to fight with you either, honey. I know how difficult today is going to be. I’ll leave you to write your letter in peace.” She closes the door quietly behind her.
I collapse in my chair, exhaling loudly.
Yes, today is going to be difficult.
But not for the reason she thinks.
Shaking aside those thoughts, I refocus on the task at hand. I examine the heap of crumpled pages in the trash—testament to more epic failure. For someone who aspires to be a writer, it’s pathetic that I can’t find the right words to tell the boy I love how sorry I am. I know him inside and out, so this should be uncomplicated. Shoot straight from the heart. Cakewalk, right?
So, why is this one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do?
Glancing at the half-written page in front of me, I scan my latest effort with a frown. Frustrated, I scrunch the page into a ball and toss it clear across the room.
Ugh. Propping my elbows on the desk, I drop my head into my hands and shut my eyes.
His hauntingly beautiful face dances across the fields of my imagination, and a deep pang of yearning punches another hole in my heart.
Gosh, I miss him so much, and I’m not sure I have the strength to do this.
The problem is simple really.
I could write this letter, but I don’t want to.
That’s what’s holding me back.
Even though I know it’s for the best, there’s a romantic, nostalgic part of me that still sees Kalvin Kennedy as my Prince Charming. My Mr. Right. My future.
The issue with that picture isn’t Kal. Not really. Although, I’m sure he must hate me now, but this one is on me.
It’s all my fault.
I wish things were different.
I wish I could rewrite our story, but I can’t. The
damage is done, and there’s no going back.
The usual panic waylays me. I take deep breaths. In and out. Reminding myself I’m doing the right thing. And I can do this.
I’m strong enough.
I’ll have to be.
I rub a tense spot between my brows, picking up the pen and a new piece of paper. I squint at the clock. Time is ticking. It’s now or never.
Kal,
Writing this letter has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done. I never thought the time would come when words were the obstacle lying between us.
I’m sorry has never seemed more inadequate than it does in this moment. I could fill this page with row upon row of apologies, and it still wouldn’t come close to making up for what I have done to you, so, I won’t go there. Just know there is no word in the English language that can convey how truly regretful I am.
I don’t think a day will pass where you aren’t hijacking my mind because you live there—in my thoughts and in my dreams. Sometimes, in my nightmares.
You are all I think about, even when I’m trying so hard to forget you.
Even now. Even after all the hurt and the pain, I still love you so much. Probably too much for someone my age. I used to believe it was because we were made for each other. That we had a special kind of love most people never find. Now, I wonder if it’s the opposite. If we were put together to show the destructive side of love.
You have always been my light and my dark.
My sun and shadow.
My strength and weakness.
You bring out the best and the worst in me.
Your continual rejection over the years hurt me more than you know—yet it was nothing compared to the pain I endured when Addison showed me that video.
It hurt, Kal. It hurt so much.
I’ve never experienced that kind of soul-crushing pain before. Not even when you first brushed me aside, and I thought I wanted to die.
It’s not an excuse for how I’ve behaved, and I’m not presenting it as such—I’m merely stating the facts, so you can try to understand where this stemmed from.
The Irish Getaway: A Kennedy Boys Optional Short Novel (The Kennedy Boys) Page 16