Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2)

by Siobhan Davis

  Chapter Nineteen

  I’m woken at three a.m. by the sounds of scuffling in the corridor outside. I get up to investigate, groaning as I approach my bedroom door when I hear Brad and Ky’s elevated voices. Ky has Brad in a headlock when I step into the corridor. “Are you two ever going to grow up?” I rest my hands on my hips.

  “A little help?” Ky motions at Brad just as he opens his mouth and hurls all over the floor.

  “Crap.” I pinch my nostrils shut to avoid gagging.

  “He’s smashed. Help me get him to his room.”

  Ky slings one of Brad’s arms over his shoulder while I prop him up on the other side, and together we move him to his bedroom. Ky places him, chest up, onto the bed and starts removing his shoes while I head to the bathroom to grab a wet facecloth. When I return, Ky has managed to get his shoes and jeans off, but he’s struggling to remove his shirt. We take an arm each and pull it up over his head. Brad moans, curling into a fetal position and clutching his abs. “I’ll get a bowl,” I suggest, already backing out of the room.

  I jump over the pool of vomit in the corridor and race to the kitchen, opening cupboards until I find what I need. I grab a couple bottles of water and tuck them into the band of my sleep shorts. Tearing off a few sheets of kitchen paper on my way out, I toss them loosely on top of the revolting mess in the corridor. I’m so nominating Ky for cleaning duty. I don’t think I’ll be able to stomach it without hurling myself.

  I shove the bowl under Brad’s face in the nick of time. He heaves repeatedly, and I look away, feeling nauseated just looking at him. I trace my hand up and down his back in what I hope is a soothing manner. When he’s done, I hold a bottle of water to his lips. “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  He rinses out his mouth, spitting the liquid into the bowl, and I get up, quickly flushing the contents down the toilet. I wash out the bowl and return it to the locker beside Brad’s bed. Brad is sitting up, with his back against the frame of the bed, sipping from his water. Muscles ripple across his toned abdomen, and I can no longer deny the uber-hotness he’s got going on. I look away, feeling like a creeper for ogling him when he’s sick.

  “I feel like crap,” he moans, throwing his head back.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” I place my palm to his hot, sticky forehead. “I think you’ll live.”

  He takes my hand, cupping it around his cheek. “Thanks,” he whispers.

  “Do I want to know why you got in such a state?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but I’m on an unscheduled quest for the truth today.

  “Got a call from a reporter today. My dad’s story will be front page news tomorrow.”

  “Shit.” Ky starts pacing the room, wearing his carefully constructed impassive face.

  “You knew it was going to happen eventually.” My tone is sympathetic.

  Bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I know, but I don’t feel ready to deal.”

  “No one ever is,” Ky says. “Once word gets out about the party, it’ll be old news.”

  That isn’t in any way reassuring, and I don’t entirely agree, but I wisely keep those thoughts to myself. I reach out and take Brad’s hand. “I’m here for you.”

  “I know, and that’s the only thing that’s keeping me going.”

  “You should sleep. School’s going to be hell on earth tomorrow.” I try to extract my hand, but he keeps a hold of it. An unspoken question rests at the back of his eyes, and sudden unease trickles down my spine. I want to console Brad because he’s been there for me on several occasions, but this is all too much, too fast, and I’m conscious that everything could very well blow up in my face. The thought of crawling in his bed and sleeping in his arms is tempting but not enough to follow through on it. I should do it to see if it garners any reaction from Ky, but I can’t manipulate Brad like that. Not when he’s harboring some kind of hope where we’re concerned.

  I can’t use him to make Ky jealous. It’s not fair, and I doubt it would work anyway.

  Brad appears to read it all on my face, and there’s no need for words. He releases my hand, looking swiftly away, but not before I notice the hurt in his eyes. A pang of guilt slaps me in the face, but I won’t back down. I know I’m doing the right thing. I pull the covers up over him, fitting them around his shivering body. Pressing my mouth to his ear, I whisper, “I just need time.” I kiss his forehead and walk briskly out of the room, ignoring Ky and whatever expression or non-expression he’s currently sporting.

  I was wrong. School is worse than hell on earth the next day. The rumor mill is thriving, and Brad and I are virtual pariahs, but at least we’re in it together. Gossip about the party is rife, and I spend the day ignoring all the new slurs and taunts leveled my way.

  Rose and Zoe are the only two brave enough to sit with us at lunch. I’d already filled Rose in on the events of the weekend in between classes, and Zoe operates a strict need-to-know policy. When I tried to explain, she told me it was none of her business and that was that. “You know you’ll be shunned now, too,” I admit, biting an angry chunk out of my apple.

  “It’ll blow over,” Rose says with a casual shrug.

  “And I’ve never been bothered about popularity,” Zoe says, even though there’s no need. Everyone knows Zoe marches to her own beat. She puts her fork down and looks across the table at us. “I didn’t have an opportunity last week to say thanks for coming to Jessie’s memorial.”

  “It was no problem. We wanted to be there, and I should be the one thanking you. My uncle told me you gave a statement to the police and that you’ve agreed to speak at the trial if necessary. We’re grateful.” She waves off my gratitude in typical Zoe fashion.

  “I still can’t believe it’s been a year since Jessie died,” Brad says in a quiet, reverent tone.

  “It’s been three for David’s daughter,” Rose confirms.

  I stop mid-chew. “What?”

  “That’s why the diner was closed last night. David’s wife told me he’s been hospitalized again. Apparently, it was the same the last two years and when his daughter’s murdered body was first discovered.”

  I push my lunch away, appetite destroyed. “That’s what he was mumbling about,” I mutter to myself. How awful. No wonder the man was in bits.

  “What do you mean?” Rose asks.

  “I met him early Sunday morning, and he wasn’t in the best shape. I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but I knew he wasn’t well. Brad called the ambulance, and we waited with him, although, I’m not sure if he was even aware.”

  “Poor man.” Sympathy shimmers in Rose’s eyes.

  “Why didn’t you ever mention his daughter was murdered or the fact he has a wife?” I ask. Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing a wedding ring on his finger.

  “It’s not something you just slide into a conversation, and he’s separated from his wife. If the rumors are to be believed, she couldn’t handle his depression after their daughter died.”

  “That’s a bit harsh.” I lean back in my chair. “What about the in sickness and health part of her vows?”

  “The same person did it. Killed both of them,” Zoe blurts out, uncaring that she’s interrupting us mid-convo. She picks at the label on her bottle. “I’m convinced of it.”

  Brad shares a look with Rose. “Don’t look like that!” Zoe snaps. She hunches forward, talking in a hushed tone of voice. “They both had a similar look, and they went missing around the same time of year.”

  “But it was two years apart,” Rose says sympathetically.

  “And, according to the reports I read, the modus operandi was different,” Brad says.

  She rips the label off the bottle, and her face inflames. “I know all that! You sound like the cops last week, but I don’t agree with them or you. You can’t tell me it’s a coincidence that two girls go missing and are murdered from the same small
town and it’s two separate killers? I’m not buying that at all.”

  “I’ve got to agree with Zoe. That does seem very suspicious,” I supply.

  “Thank you.” She offers me a snarky face to match her biting gratitude.

  “Do the police have any new leads?” I ask.

  “Nope, and from what I can tell, it’s at the bottom of the priority pile.” She sighs and pushes back her chair. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I get so incensed. I’ll catch you later.” She files out of the cafeteria before any of us have even had a chance to say goodbye.

  “I pity whoever ends up with her,” Brad says rather uncharitably. It’s most unlike him to be cruel unless it’s warranted. “She makes Addison look like a walk in the park in comparison.”

  I elbow him in the ribs, hard. “Take that back. Zoe may be all prickly on the outside, but she’s not a vindictive bitch like Addison. That was a low blow, and I can’t believe you said it.” Brad must totally be out of sorts today.

  He has the decency to look ashamed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. She’s just tough-going at times.”

  “I know, but I happen to like her. At least you always know where you stand. I can’t say that for a lot of the people I’ve met in Wellesley.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Afternoon classes seem to drag on forever, and when the final bell eventually rings, it’s like music to my ears. I push my body to breaking point during swim practice, and my limbs actually hurt by the time the coach blows the whistle. I throw on my clothes after the quickest shower in history and bolt out of the locker room. I can’t get out of this building quick enough.

  Alex and James are locked in a vicious row at the front door when Brad and I drive up. “Park in the garage,” I request, and he duly obliges. We enter the kitchen via the utility room, and I try to ignore the shouting as I fix us a snack.

  Kal ambles into the room with a scowl on his face. He’s wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a pair of gray gym shorts. The black monitoring device is conspicuous around his left ankle—a constant reminder he’s on house arrest. A small, matronly woman follows behind him. Her gray hair is pulled back off her forehead in a severe bun which does her no favors. Her lips are pinched tight, and her eyes have a feral look about them. She looks close to blowing a gasket.

  “We are done for the day, Master Kennedy, when I say we are done for the day.”

  Kal waves his hands in our direction. “If I have to be home-schooled, then I’m keeping regular school hours.” He glares at the woman. “My cousin is already home so that means school is out, and so am I.”

  “Hey!” I protest wholeheartedly when he swipes my sandwich off my plate, instantly sinking his teeth into it.

  He gives me a grin, and it warms my heart to see it. “I’m not used to using so many brain cells, and it’s given me one hell of an appetite.”

  The woman stomps her foot—for real! I thought they only did that in the movies.

  “Throw a temper tantrum. See if I care,” Kal tells her in between mouthfuls. “You can’t force me to study.”

  Steam practically billows out of her ears, and I’m struggling to contain my burst of laughter. She finally gives up, spinning on her heel and stomping out of the room. Brad and I convulse with laughter, and Kal watches us in amusement. When I’ve managed to control myself, I go over and hug my cousin. “You seem in better form.”

  “I am, but don’t ask me how. That woman would drive the sanest person to pitch themselves off a cliff. Trust Dad to worry about my schooling with all the other shit we have going down.”

  He finishes my sandwich in two more bites, and I swat the back of his head. “You can make me another one.”

  “Deal.” He jumps up, smacking a wet kiss on my cheek. I’m not sure how or why he’s reverted to norm, but I’m glad to see it. He was so down the last week, and it’s been difficult to watch.

  The shouting at the front door accelerates, and I can hear every hurtful word my aunt and uncle are spewing at one another. I inwardly cringe. They are going at one another hell for leather, and it’s not pleasant to hear. “How long have they been arguing?” I ask, propping my elbows on the counter as I watch Kal fixing my sandwich.

  “Feels like forever,” he drily replies.

  The rest of the week passes by in slo-mo, not helped by the fact that the diner is still closed. Even though I attend swim practice every night after school, I still have far too much time on my hands, and I can’t stop my brain from starting a mental countdown. By Friday, I’ve all but chewed my fingernails to the bone. Monday is D-Day—test results day, and the closer it draws, the more anxious I get.

  At least the media hounds are all but gone, distracted initially by the McConaughey fraud revelation and now by some scandal in Washington involving a leading politician and a slew of hookers. James eventually relented, and we can go around town without a bodyguard in tow. They still patrol the grounds, and if we travel farther afield, we have to take someone with us, but apart from that, we’re emancipated, and it’s great. I didn’t realize exactly how uncomfortable I was until Lenny is no longer breathing down my neck and sending me condemning glares.

  We are walking to my locker at the end of lunch, when Brad asks me out. “Want to do something after school today? Just the two of us?” I’d almost swear he has a hotline to my brain. I’ve never needed distracting as much as I presently do.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  He arches a brow, and his lips curve up as a naughty glint appears in his eye. I sense his mind has wandered to the gutter, and another layer of anxiety heaps atop the existing pile. There’s been no more of the heavy this week, but an unspoken tension still lingers between us which I hate.

  I’ve barely seen Ky all week, and I’m presuming he’s purposely staying out of my way.

  Not that it’s helping much.

  He’s like my own personal kryptonite.

  I know I need to stay away, but I can’t help craving him. I’m only resisting his allure because he isn’t in front of me, tempting me with his dark good looks and his dangerous, sexy vibes. If he was, I don’t know that I’d be able to ignore my longing, so I’m glad he’s maintaining his distance. I’ve already humiliated myself enough. There’s no reason to go back for seconds.

  No matter how much I beg my heart to reject him, I can’t evict Ky when he’s already set up camp there. I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario, to accept that he’s my sibling, to coach my heart to get over him because I can’t have those feelings about my brother, and especially now that he’s reattached himself to Addison, but it’s no use. I can’t get him out of my mind.

  Logic and rationality don’t come into it where the heart is concerned.

  Once the heart has laid claim there is no going back.

  And I’m locked in a world of pain because of it.

  I love him, and I’m missing him like crazy, and I wish there was some cure for that.

  “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Brad asks with an exasperated sigh, drawing me back into the moment.

  I frown, grabbing the books I need and stowing them in my bag. “Why do you say that?”

  “You get this look on your face. All swoony and wistful.” He sighs again, this time with resignation.

  “I didn’t realize.” I hope to God Ky hasn’t copped on either.

  “What I wouldn’t give to have you daydream about me like that.” Brad pierces me with serious eyes, and it’s impossible to get mad that he’s gone there, not in the face of such daring honesty.

  “Would you believe me if I said I wish for that too?” One part of me does. Brad’s a great guy, and I wish I felt like that about him.

  “I don’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted.” He slings my bag over his shoulder and takes my hand, automatically steering us in the direction of my next c
lass. I swear he knows my schedule better than I know it myself.

  “It’s a compliment,” I insist.

  “We’re not finished this conversation,” he says when we reach the door of my classroom. “Will you come out with me later?” He reaches out, twirling a lock of my hair.

  “Of course. I’ll see you out front.”

  I find it hard to focus on my classes all afternoon. Brad consumes my thoughts, and I know we’re going to have “the conversation” later. He’s getting braver, and I don’t know if I like it or not. One part of me thinks me plus Brad equals a match made in heaven, and that it’d be the best way to move on, but that other more sensible part of my brain knows it’s wishful thinking. I can’t force myself to feel things I don’t. Brad is amazing in so many ways, and if I invested time in it, I think it could lead somewhere, but I don’t want to start something I may not be ready for, and I don’t want to hurt Brad or cause further issues between him and Ky. Things are already strained enough as it is.

  Like every other part of my life right now, my love life is one big complicated mess.

  Brad takes me back to the lake and we take a seat on the same log as last time. We are facing the lake, and my eyes skim across the beautiful surroundings while he unfolds a blanket and removes some sandwiches from the small basket he brought. The place is completely deserted today and the only sounds are the quiet chirruping of birds and the gentle swish of the leaves blowing pleasantly in the cool autumn breeze.

  Brad pours soup from a flask into two paper cups, handing me one, along with a sandwich.

  “Thanks.” I wrap my hands around the cup, allowing the warmth to infuse my cold, numb fingers.

  “I love it here,” he says, sipping his soup. “I’ve spent a lot of time here the last few months. It’s one of the few places where I can organize my thoughts into some kind of order.”