Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2)

by Siobhan Davis

  James turns the key in the lock and steps into the penthouse suite.

  “Get naked, baby,” a slurred voice says, and I instantly perk up.

  I walk in beside James, my eyes blinking ninety to the dozen when I cop a load of Courtney. She is naked—as in completely and utterly starkers—with a string of pearls curving around her neck and dangling in between the gap of her exposed breasts. She totters on ridiculously high heels with a glass of champagne in one hand. Spotting me, she smirks.

  “Ditch the bitch and let’s get our nasty on.” She licks her lips as she starts sliding a hand down over her flat stomach.

  “I’m out of here!” I spin around and race out the door before I have any more hideous images to add to the collection of horrors in my head. All I’m thinking in this moment is how I need to put as much distance between me and that slut as possible.

  “Faye! Wait!” James runs after me, and I press the button on the lift repeatedly, willing it to hurry up.

  “I’ll get rid of her!” he says in a frantic tone. “I didn’t know she was here, I swear.”

  As I watch the lift ascending, I turn and face my uncle. I believe him when he says he didn’t know she was waiting in his room, but that’s the extent of my trust. “Answer me one thing. Have you ended your affair with her? Is this Courtney being delusional or normal?”

  He massages his temples as he pins me with a beseeching look. The lift pings and I shove his hand off, stepping inside. “Yeah. That’s pretty much what I thought.” I shake my head. “What you said to your sons back there was complete bullshit, wasn’t it?” I shake my head again.

  “No.” James moves his hand to the gap between the doors, stopping the lift from closing. “I meant every word I said. I am fixing things, and I still love Alex. I want to return to my family.”

  “Baby! Come back here and fuck me!” Courtney hollers down the corridor, and I cringe.

  She’s certainly showing her true colors now. I push James’s hand out of the way as he exhales noisily, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Yeah. It sure sounds like it.”

  The door closes and I sag against the wall, numb more than anything else.

  I hurry outside, ignoring the pain underfoot when I run down the road and around the bend so that I’m out of sight of the hotel. I hold my pace steady until I’m around the next two corners, and only then do I stop running. My feet are throbbing with stinging pain, and I hobble up the road like a cripple. I sincerely hope there are no reporters milling about at this early hour. They’d surely hit pay dirt if they saw me like this. Swathed in an ill-fitting man’s coat with no shoes, bare legs, and my blood-caked face, I look more like a hooker than a relative of the wealthy Kennedys.

  I climb onto the bench a few meters down from the diner, wincing as I lift my sore feet to inspect them. Both soles are black and filthy, and one foot is bleeding. I snuggle into Kaden’s coat, grateful for it. With cold, trembling fingers, I pluck my phone from my bag, flipping it over and almost crying when I spot the blank screen. I press the power button but nothing happens. It’s completely out of charge, and I’m officially screwed. I should probably go back to the hotel and use their phone to ring Brad, but exhaustion has done a right number on me, and I’m incapable of lifting my little finger let alone hobbling back through the streets. I lie down on my side on the bench, as a tortured sob starts building in the base of my throat.

  How ironic that I feel like a homeless person when that’s effectively what I am.

  I don’t fit in anywhere.

  The one place I had begun to think of as home is now the last place I wish to be.

  My eyes are shuttering, and I welcome the incoming unconsciousness.

  I don’t care who finds me or how I’m found.

  All I care about at present is blocking it out.

  I’m seconds away from sleep when something or someone brushes against my feet, and I jerk up, immediately alert and on guard.

  A man is sitting at the end of the bench, slouched against the side, hiding his face in his arm. A strong smell of alcohol and urine tickles my nose, causing my nostrils to wrinkle in disgust. I get up, prepared to make a hasty getaway, when his head lifts and my eyes widen in surprise.

  “David?” I peer at the man with the five o’clock shadow and the haunted eyes, wondering if it’s actually my boss or someone who looks remarkably like him.

  “Faye?” he slurs in an unmistakable voice.

  Cautiously, I sit back down. “What’s wrong?”

  His eyes fill up and the wounded look on his face tells its own story. Leaning toward me, he grabs my hands, holding them firmly in his sweaty grip. All the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “She’s gun. Dead ash dead can be.” His eyes roll in his head even as tears trickle down his face. He digs his fingers into my flesh, and I try to wrest my hands away, but he has me in an iron grip. “I mizz her. So much. It wazn’t ri.” His whole body sways from side to side as tears plop onto our conjoined hands. “Iz I culd go bash, I … Aggh.” He releases my hands, curling into a ball as he starts rocking back and forth, mumbling to himself. I stand up, jerking my head around, looking for any sign of life close by. I don’t have any medical training, but he’s clearly in need of intervention. If I had to bet on it, I’d say he’s taken something else besides alcohol, and I’m concerned for him.

  My eyes narrow as I zone in on the blurry shape in the distance. Squinting in the faint light, I watch as an SUV approaches, and I step out into the middle of the road, waving it down.

  Brad hops out of the car, running toward me. “Are you okay? What’s happened?”

  I gesture at David. He’s rambling to himself, talking gibberish as he continues to sway from side to side. “Call an ambulance, quick.”

  We wait with him in silence until the ambulance arrives, and I give some details to the EMT staff before they take him away. Without a word, Brad bundles me into his arms and carries me to the car.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I ask as he drives away from the town.

  “James called Ky. In a place like Wellesley, I knew you couldn’t have gotten far, but Keven logged into the tracking app on your phone, and he told me exactly where to find you.”

  Even though I’m barely keeping my eyes open, I still jerk forward in my seat. “They’re tracking me?”

  “Hey.” His eyes rake briefly over me. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  I rest my head against the window, sighing. I shouldn’t be all that surprised. What with Keven’s mad IT skills and James’s penchant for security, it makes sense. And, on this occasion, it came in handy.

  Brad parks the car in front of the house and cuts the engine. “I know you’re tired, but can we talk before we go in?” Unbuckling his seat belt, he twists around to face me. The leather protests with a loud squelch.

  I lead with “I owe you an apology.”

  He pins me with incredulous eyes. “How on earth do you figure that?”

  “I was horrible to you last night, and you were only trying to look out for me. I should’ve listened to you.”

  Reaching out, he threads his fingers in mine. “I was so scared when you staggered out of that room. I’m sorry, Faye. I should never have left you with him.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And our apologies cancel each other out so we’re square.”

  “No.” He shakes his head vehemently. “I owe you another one.” His clear blue eyes pierce mine. “I hurt you when I rejected you and I’m sorry for that.” He holds up a hand when he sees my mouth open to speak. “Let me say this.” I clamp my mouth shut. “I want to kiss you so badly—all the time—but not like that. Not when you didn’t know what you wanted. I won’t ever take advantage of you or the situation. When you kiss me again, it will be because you want to kiss me, not because you’re upset and trying to
make him jealous.” He lifts our conjoined hands to his lips. “I know you need time. I can wait.”

  I almost topple out of the car when my door is abruptly opened from the outside. Ky doesn’t speak, but his expression speaks a thousand words. Reaching in, he releases my seat belt and slides me into his arms, carrying me into the house. Perhaps I should be grateful that he rescued me from what would surely have been a very awkward conversation, but that’s the last thing I’m feeling.

  I want to slap him.

  Curse him.

  Scream at him.

  Slap him some more.

  I want to reach a hand into his chest and squeeze that life-sustaining organ until he collapses from the lack of blood flow and the agonizing pain pummeling his heart until it’s scarcely beating.

  I want him to hurt so badly that he can barely breathe while strips tear from his heart.

  I want him to feel everything I’m feeling.

  To hurt as much as I do.

  I want all that.

  But I can’t convince myself it’s the truth.

  Because I love him too much.

  I don’t want him to hurt like that.

  Because I’m so bloody weak.

  Instead, I curl my arms around his neck, inhaling his scent and absorbing the feel of his skin under my fingertips, pretending he’s still mine. Brad stays behind us, his disappointed gaze locked on mine as we walk to my bedroom. We stare at one another, and my emotions veer all over the place.

  “Put me down.” I attempt to wriggle out of Ky’s arms, but his hold only tightens. Uncurling my arms from around his neck, I shove at his chest. “I said let me go.”

  “Stop being ridiculous,” he scoffs, instantly raising my heckles. “You’re too injured to walk.”

  He strides forward with purpose, and my anger returns in spades. “Put me down or I’ll scream blue murder. I mean it.”

  He slants dark, determined eyes on me. “Work away, sweetheart. See if I care.”

  “Aagh! You’re the most frustrating person ever! And don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not your anything.”

  “Stop it!” he hisses as I attempt a new bout of wriggling. “I’m not putting you down, and we’re not going there.”

  My eyes flit to Brad, beseeching him for help. I can almost see the little wheels turning in his head. “Please,” I mouth, and he picks up his pace.

  “I’ll carry her,” Brad says. It’s less of an offer and more of a demand and we all know it.

  “The hell you will!” Ky fumes. “I left her in your care tonight and look what happened.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk!” he retorts. “If she’s upset with anyone tonight, it’s you, and you damned well know it.”

  I count to ten in my head, relieved when we reach my room. Ky kicks my door open with his booted foot and lays me down gently on the bed. Brad stops at the end of the bed, glaring at his best friend. “Can you fetch a bowl of warm water, some cotton pads, and a towel from the bathroom.” Ky makes the request without looking at his friend, and Brad responds without acknowledgment, pushing off the door and heading into the en suite. Ky disappears into my walk-in-wardrobe, returning a minute later with some clean pajamas. Sounds of running water greet my ears as Ky removes Kaden’s coat from around me before fingering the hem of my dress.

  I slap his hands away. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Don’t be difficult, Faye.” He batters his forearms. “You’re injured, and you’re exhausted, and I’m only helping.”

  “Who said I want your help?” I snap rather childishly.

  He emits an exaggerated sigh, unfolding his arms and sitting on the edge of my bed. “Just let me take care of you. I need to do this for you. Okay?”

  I want to tell him to get stuffed.

  Not to touch me.

  But I don’t.

  I can’t hold onto my anger, and I’m not really sure why.

  Only that I hate myself for it.

  Wordlessly, I let him help me out of my clothes and into the pajamas. Brad reenters the room a couple of minutes later holding a small bowl, some cotton wool, and a white towel. Ky props pillows behind my head, and one underneath my feet. “This might hurt a little.”

  He starts dabbing at my feet, and I instinctively jerk my foot back, wincing. “That stings like fuck.”

  With his lips twitching, he tenderly clasps my ankle, easing my foot back to the pillow. “Take deep breaths and before you know it, I’ll be done.” His gentle voice and soft touch send delicious little tingles ripping up and down my leg and I want to slap myself in the face when a little whimper flees my mouth involuntarily. Could my humiliation be any more complete? I drape an arm across my face so I don’t have to look at Brad’s dejected face or Ky’s smug one. The urge to scream my lungs out is riding me hard.

  “Try to hold still and I’ll clean it up as quick as I can. There’s a lot of debris in your foot, and you have a few cuts that are bleeding.” I nibble on my arm, relishing the sting as my teeth sink into my flesh, clinging to it as a vital distraction tool. Ky cleans my feet, while I do my best to ignore the pleasure-pain. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he says a few minutes later, and I lift my arm off my face, watching the two boys exchange thunderous looks. I only release the breath I’d been holding when Ky exits the room.

  Brad sits down beside me. “May I?” he asks, holding up some cotton wool. “You have some dried blood on your face.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He begins cleaning me with infinite tenderness, as if I’m a delicate, precious flower. My nose is sore to the touch, and I flinch when his fingers carefully prod it. He gets up, bringing the bowl and the rest of the supplies into the bathroom. When he returns, he drops down onto the bed again, this time with his back to me. Tension has corded his muscles into knots, and he sits hunched over, inspecting his nails, sealing his lips, and bottling everything up.

  “Brad.”

  Slowly, he looks over his shoulder, and I pat the space beside me. He stares at me for a few seconds before lying down on his side. “You should know I’m a total mess,” I tell him. “I scarcely know who I am anymore let alone what I want. I’m so confused.” It’s the truth. My emotions are as unreliable as the weather. One minute I’m all sore and hurt, the next I’m desperately clinging to every second with Ky, devouring each crumb he throws my way as if it’ll be the last. Add Brad to the mix, and my emotions become a hodge-podge of epic proportions. My feelings for him aren’t cut and dried, and that’s only exacerbating the turmoil inside my head and my heart. I gulp, placing my hand over his. “You mean so much to me, and I don’t want things to be strained between us.” He stares into my eyes, and I hold his gaze. “Please.” I gulp again. “I need you,” I add in a whisper, hoping he understands the meaning behind my statement and that he isn’t reading too much into it.

  With great affection, he cups my face. “I want you to need me but not half as much as I want you to want me.”

  “You don’t waste any time.” Ky sneers, scowling at his best friend from the doorway. “Not that I’m all that surprised.”

  “You’re with Addison,” Brad retorts harshly, and that familiar surge of bitterness twists my insides into knots. “What do you care?”

  “I care about Faye and she’s been through a lot tonight, in case you’d forgotten, so give her a break. She doesn’t need any more of the heavy.”

  Brad hops up, stalking toward Ky. “We all know whose fault that is.” If looks could kill, Ky would be ten feet under by now. “And if that’s all this was, then I’d totally accept it, but it’s bull and you know it. You’ve pushed her away, but no one else is allowed to go near her? Have I got that right?”

  They are squaring up to one another, and a fresh surge of frustration is growing in my chest. The urge to open my mouth and scream from the pit of my lungs is hu
gely tempting.

  “I’m not having this conversation with you. Get out, and let me look after my cousin.”

  “I don’t know what’s happened to you, man, although I can guess,” he jeers. “I don’t much like this new version of you.”

  “I don’t care what you think.” Ky brushes past him, moving toward me with the first aid kit in one hand and a steaming mug in the other.

  A furious look dances over Brad’s face, like he wants to pummel Ky into next week. Not sure I’d blame him. Ky is way out of line.

  “Please don’t fall out because of me.” My eyes implore the pair of them. “We’re all exhausted and taking it out on each other. Let’s get some sleep and talk later.”

  Brad bravely walks back to the bed, bending down and kissing my cheek. “I’m glad you’re okay. Get some rest. I’ll see you later.” He ignores Ky as he exits the room, and the temp turns from icy cold to a few degrees above chilly.

  Ky attends to my feet without speaking, applying some sort of salve and then bandaging each foot. I sip on the hot sweet tea he brought, and each mouthful warms the frozen inner parts of me. When he’s done, he helps me into the bed, tucking the covers up to my chest. “You feel any better?”

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  He rubs the back of his neck and kneels down in front of the bed. “I’m sorry this happened to you, and for what it’s worth, I hate myself for the part I played. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Yet you keep doing it.”

  He grimaces, before hanging his head. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Silence descends, and I finish my drink, placing the mug on my locker as I sink into the nurturing warmth of the bed. It’s hard to see Ky in here and not remember the many nights he spent sleeping beside me, holding me in his arms, loving me with his words, his lips, his touch. Tears prick my eyes, and I’m glad I’m too exhausted to cry. “Did you care about me at all?” I whisper-ask because I must love torturing myself.

  His chin kicks up. “Of course, I cared. I still do. I’ll never not care about you.”