He holds my wrist. “I can do it.”
“You can barely walk.”
“Took a few kicks to the shin, but I’ll be fine after a bath and some heat pads.”
My fingers lightly probe his jaw and his cheek, and he flinches, wincing. “This is becoming too regular a habit,” I chastise, extracting what I need from the kit. “Who was it?”
His shoulders slump in defeat. “Roberts—Jeremy.” How he manages to infuse that one word with so much derision is impressive. “And before you ask, he was spouting shit about you that I didn’t appreciate.”
“You should know better than to rise to the bait. He’s probably going to use this now to get me to drop the charges.” The police had found the recording on his cell, along with a host of other non-disclosed recordings, and formal charges are being drawn up. While the police are keeping their lips sealed in relation to the other content, Dan has it on good authority that they had tag-teamed a bunch of other girls and recorded them without their knowledge too. Ky was right—they are sick fucks. I move to the sink, returning with a warm bowl of water.
“From what he said tonight, if he’s to be believed, and that’s a big if, neither he or Edwards are going to be charged.”
I stall my hand on his face. “What?”
“I’ll phone Dad for the deets, but he implied some kind of deal had been struck.”
“That’s fucking typical. How is he able to buy his way out of this and Kal isn’t?”
“I know, it’s crap.”
I tip his head back, so I can get at his nose. “This will sting.” I gently dab at the bloody mess until he’s all cleaned up. “Where’d you bump into Jeremy anyway?”
He purses his lips, and I lean back, giving him my best demanding stare. He sighs. “Over at Addison’s.” That bitter taste is back in my mouth. Serves me right for asking. I unscrew the lid off the arnica and carefully rub it around the bruised skin on his cheek and under his eye. “Don’t worry, I won’t be returning there any time soon.” He grins wickedly. “Her father has banned me from the house.”
My eyes narrow to slits. He’s smiling like this is the best news ever, and it goes some way toward reaffirming my suspicions, which I hate, because I’ve zero desire to hop back on that merry-go-round. I’m giving myself whiplash with my altering opinions as it is. “Are you ever going to tell me?”
His smile fades. “Don’t.”
I fling the contents of the first aid kit back in the bag and stomp over toward the press. I’m leaning up to slide the box into the cupboard when his warm body presses up behind me. I stop, arm extended midair, as his hands snake around my waist. My breath comes out harsh and ragged as intense shivers rip up and down my spine. Brushing my hair to one side, he rests his chin on my shoulder, and I can barely move. His body heat seeps into mine, relaxing me on a bone-deep level. I clamp my lips shut before I whimper.
I shut the press door and reach my hands down to his. Our fingers entwine, and he places the lightest, most delicate kiss against my neck. I shudder and there’s no way he doesn’t feel my body trembling against his. “Faye.” He whispers my name with adoration, and I move to turn around, but he presses me into the counter, holding me securely in position. “Don’t turn around, please. I only have so much self-control.”
“Ky, please, you need to te—”
“Ssh,” she says into my ear, and I moan as his warm breath does funny things to my insides. “I can’t deal. Not with the night that’s in it. Not with what we may be facing tomorrow.”
“I’m scared,” I admit quietly, leaning back against him and closing my eyes. I want to savor this moment. Cherish the feel of him at my back, his hands locked with mine, his nose nuzzling my neck. We’re not kissing or touching intimately or even looking at one another but his presence surrounds me, and my body’s wound tight, quivery and jittery and oh so needy. He’s affecting me as potently as if we were being intimate.
“Me too.” He inhales deeply, and the urge to kiss him is riding me hard. I don’t know how I’ll cope if he’s confirmed as my brother.
I don’t think I know how to stay away from him.
Nothing seems to matter—his girlfriend, my whatever with Brad, the constant push-and-pull of his actions, the knowledge that we could be more closely related. I know they are justifiable reasons to keep my distance, but try telling that to my heart.
My heart doesn’t care about that stuff.
The heart wants what the heart wants, and no amount of logic makes a blind difference.
I want him. I’ll always want him.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, bound in a backward embrace, clinging to each other in the only way we can, but it’s more than enough to alleviate the frayed edges of my sanity. Without breaking any rules, Ky has found a way of comforting me like only he can.
After a while, we withdraw, as if by mutual unspoken agreement, going our separate ways without further conversation.
As I lie in bed, worrying about tomorrow and what the results will prove—nervous to the point of vomiting—I close my eyes and remember how good it felt to be held by him, and that’s all it takes to coax me to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trying to concentrate at school the next day is a bit like riding a bike uphill with no gears. I’m floundering, and for once I’m not on a countdown until the final bell. If I could hit the reverse button, I would.
Brad is a complete sweetheart. He understands how anxious I am, and he babbles away, distracting me with his inane chatter. He seems to have accepted the status quo with us, at least outwardly, and for that I’m grateful. He doesn’t appear upset, so I’m figuring I was right, and it was the thought of him plus me that captured his interest and not the actual reality of a relationship.
I intercept a few hostile looks from Peyton, but that’s nothing new. She doesn’t risk taking it any further, so I can’t complain. The fake boyfriend idea was a gem.
Brad drives us home when school ends, and I’m on the verge of puking with nervous adrenaline the instant I step over the threshold. A bunch of luggage rests on the porcelain tiled floor, and I’m assuming it’s the trigger for the latest row we’re intercepting between Alex and James. They must be in his study, with the door closed, but I can still hear their muted arguing from here.
Brad and I exchange knowing looks as Ky appears in the doorway. “He’s moving back in, apparently.”
“Oh?” My brows nudge up.
“He got a court order. That’s why Mom is blowing a gasket.”
The door swings open overhead, and Alex comes hurtling out of the room like a tempest. She’s still dressed in her pajamas, and I can’t say I blame James for taking such drastic action. Someone needs to at least attempt to take on a parental role, and I, for one, am relieved he’s moving back in. Hopefully, he can enforce some form of discipline—not that I’m holding my breath in anticipation—but it’ll seem more stable with James around.
Alex rushes past us into the living room, her face red with indignation.
“Faye. Kyler. Can you come up to my study, please,” James requests from the top of the stairs.
Mammoth butterflies take up residence in my chest, and I shudder involuntarily. Brad squeezes my hand. “Good luck,” he whispers, before disappearing down the corridor.
“After you.” Ky gestures me forward with his hand. Our eyes meet and it’s the first time we’ve seen each other since last night. The usual electrifying spark sizzles between us, reeling me in like an invisible force. My heart starts galloping in my chest, and I act without overthinking it, stepping into his warm body and resting my head on his chest. Uncaring if it pisses his dad off, Ky’s arms go around me without hesitation. James loudly clears his throat, but Ky doesn’t relinquish his hold, and the steady beating of his heart helps calm my fractured nerves. He cups my face affectionately in both h
is large hands, easing back a little. “It’s going to be okay. No matter what, we’ll deal.” I’m not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or me.
James perches on the edge of his desk while we take the two red velvet armchairs. The fire is alight although it does nothing to heat the chill in my bones. “Dr. Stephens is on his way, but I wanted to talk to you first about the situation with Dylan Edwards and Jeremy Roberts.”
“I’ve heard a rumor,” Ky admits, crossing a leg over his knee.
“Does that have anything to do with the state of your face?” James asks dryly.
Ky’s expression hardens in preparation for the inevitable dressing down. “And what if it does?” he challenges his father.
“I hope you got a good few punches in.” James shoots him a sly smirk.
Ky reels back. No doubt he was expecting a lecture instead of a verbal pat on the back. “Don’t worry, Dad. I didn’t let the side down.” He meets James’s smirk bang-on with a massive smirk of his own.
I sit up straighter. “If we’re finished with all the male bravado, can you tell us what’s going on, please?”
James walks behind his desk and retrieves a document from the top drawer. “Unfortunately, the police are dropping the case against them because they don’t think they have enough to bring it to full trial. The evidence isn’t strong enough to support a conviction, I’m afraid.”
“Why the hell not?” I demand.
James grimaces. “It’s a minor misdemeanor and it hasn’t taken much for Jeremy’s father to brush it under the carpet. He has a lot of clout in this town and a top Boston law firm on tap.” His face contorts. “Apparently, he’s paid off the other girls, and they’ve retracted their complaints. He’s always had it in for this family, so if we pursued this, I’ve no doubt he’d milk it for all it’s worth. I have it on good authority they are planning to run with a drunken, out-of-control party scenario and downplay the recording as a prank. Even if we were to pursue a civil suit, they would annihilate your character and your reputation on the stand. I don’t want that happening to you.”
“What a crock of shit!” I exclaim, seething as I hop up and start pacing the floor. “So, what?” I turn the full extent of my frustration on James. “They’re going to get off scot-free? They can run around recording girls without their knowledge and then blackmail them into threesomes?” I flap my hands in the air in a diva-esque move borrowed from my archnemesis.
James walks to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Sit back down, sweetheart, and I’ll explain the rest.” I plunk into the chair and give him my full attention. “They’ve signed a confidentiality agreement including confirmation that they have no more copies of the recording they made of you. They agree not to talk publicly about the incident, to stay away from you in the future, and they will submit a sizeable donation to a local charity which supports women who are the victims of abuse.” He hands the stapled document to me. “You need to sign this to confirm you will not discuss the matter either and that you’ll maintain a reasonable distance from them.”
I snatch the papers and pen from his hand, harrumphing. “That won’t be a problem, trust me.” I sign on the dotted line and hand it back to him.
He kneels down in front of me. “I know this wasn’t the outcome you wanted, but at least this won’t be hanging over your head anymore. The recording is destroyed. It’s gone, and you can chalk it up to experience, and put it behind you.”
Ky runs his hand up and down my arm, eliciting a flurry of fiery tingles that extend all the way to my toes. “They won’t go near you again. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me!” His tone is harsh. “Brad is right. This was all my fault.” I open my mouth to argue my point, but he places his finger against my mouth, muzzling me. “All that’s going through my head since that night is how I pushed you into his arms.”
He swallows hard, and I reach out, entwining our hands. “I’m responsible for my own actions. I was locked and being stupid, careless. That’s not your fault.”
A murderous glint flashes in his eyes. “Jeremy is lucky Addison’s father was there last night or I might’ve killed the son of a bitch.” A vein throbs in his neck.
“You have to let it go. Neither of them are worth expending any more energy on.”
He angles his body so he’s facing me. We are both straining across the gap between our chairs, like two magnets fighting a natural pull. As we stare at one another, he drops his mask, and I see everything he’s been trying so hard to keep from me. My heart swells to bursting point, and I grip his hand tighter, wishing I could straddle his hips and kiss the heck out of him. Heat pools low in my stomach, and I want him so bad it’s killing me.
“You know I can’t allow this to continue once we have the results,” James murmurs, ruining the moment. Automatically, we both sit back in our chairs, releasing our hands. “I hope you have at least tried to prepare yourselves, because it’s not going to be easy.”
“You seem sure of the results,” Ky says, and there’s a bitter note to his tone. “Do you know already?”
James shakes his head. “No. I’ll be hearing at the same time you are.” His phone pings on his desk, and he snatches it up. “They are here.” He rises. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
My heart is crashing around my ribcage as panic flays me on all sides.
“Come here,” Ky whispers, holding his arms out. I need no further invitation. I throw myself onto his lap, clinging to him like a limpet. “I can feel your heart racing,” he says, placing his hand on my chest. “Mine too.” He takes my hand and places it in the spot where his heart thuds wildly. There is barely any room between us, and it doesn’t take much for him to close the gap as he presses his mouth to mine. He kisses me softly and all too briefly. “I needed to kiss you one final time.” Moisture glistens in his eyes, startling me. “Dad is right. If the test confirms we’re siblings, then we can’t act on our feelings again. We can’t go there.”
“I know,” I whisper, and a tear rolls down my cheek. Footsteps on the stairs have me jumping out of his lap like there’s a rocket up my ass. I’ve only reclaimed my chair when James steps into the room with the good doctor.
I shut down internally, as if all my organs are switching off, one life-sustaining body part after another. Nausea swims up my throat, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, fearful I’m actually going to puke.
The doctor greets us by name, passing simple pleasantries, but I don’t hear a thing. I can’t hear over the roaring in my ears. I’m in a daze when the doctor hands James an envelope and he removes a written report. Ky reaches out, grasping my hand in his, and I cling to him possessively. “Breathe, Faye.” He rubs soothing circles on the back of my hand and his touch brings me back to solid ground.
James emits a sharp gasp, and my eyes register the shock on his face. The report slips out of his hands, fluttering to the ground. He sways on his feet, his knees almost giving out, as he clutches the desk in a desperate effort to stay upright.
“Dad?” Ky’s tone is laced with concern and fear. “What does it say?”
James blinks successively, struggling to compose himself, and the doctor presses a thumb to the pulse point on his wrist. This somewhat snaps him out of his shocked state. “I’m okay,” he reassures the doctor, walking to me on quivering limbs.
He drops to his knees in front of me, and my entire body is one giant ball of stress. My nerves are hanging on by a thread.
Ky’s panicked breathing is the only sound in the room.
“It’s …” James croaks, a dart of pain flickering across his face. “I was wrong. I’m not your father. I don’t know who is.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or what to think. Relief is the overriding senti
ment, but all manner of other emotions has my head in a tailspin. Some I expected to feel, but disappointment is a weird one. My main thought process these last couple of weeks has been tied to Ky, so much so that I haven’t given enough consideration to the “father” aspect of it. Perhaps I was subconsciously deflecting the more serious elements of the revelation on purpose. James is visibly despondent at the news, and whether he wanted it to be true because it was a permanent physical link to my mum or because he liked the idea of being my father, I don’t know, and I don’t care. He wanted to call me his daughter, and whatever the reason, it feels good to be wanted like that.
I kneel down in front of him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. “I don’t know what to say.”
He rests his chin atop my head. “I’m sorry, Faye. I truly believed you were mine. I wanted to believe you were mine.”
“I told you, Goddammit,” Ky snaps, and we jerk apart. He stands up, glaring at James with hateful eyes. Whatever tentative moment they shared not so long along is clearly forgotten. “You’ve put us through hell these last two weeks, and … ugh!” He scrunches clumps of his hair, kicking at the leg of the chair in frustration. I scramble to my feet and reach for him. “Don’t!” He steps back, holding up his hands, not even looking at me. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” My chest tightens as I watch him flee the room.
James pulls himself upright, straightening out his clothes. “I don’t understand. I thought he’d be pleased?”
I wholeheartedly agree, but I don’t admit that out loud. I have a suspicion the situation with that bitch Addison is the root cause of his little outburst, and I fully intend to find out if I’m right.
Dr. Stephens is standing awkwardly in the corner, not knowing where to look. I approach him. “Excuse me, but may I ask a question?”
“Of course, my dear.”
I shove my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Is there any way of confirming who my biological father is?”
Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2) Page 22