Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2)

by Siobhan Davis

  I flinch as he roars, flinging his phone at the wall in a blatant rage. I tiptoe down the stairs as fast my legs will carry me.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I find Brad and Ky in the movie room, and I fill them in on what I overheard. “It’s Courtney,” Ky deduces. “I knew things were too quiet on that front. Girls like her don’t go away that easily.”

  My mobile phone pings with a message from Keven. “Your dad’s ready for me. Start the movie. I’ll catch up when I’m back.”

  “No sweat, we’ll wait for you,” Brad says.

  “I’ve seen all the Fast and Furious movies so work away. I’ll be able to pick up.”

  Ky pulls me to him, holding me close as he kisses me hungrily. “Hurry back.” He taps my ass as he sends me on my way.

  Keven is nowhere to be seen when I open the door to James’s study, and the broken phone mess has been cleaned up. James smiles kindly, ushering me into a seat. He fixes two whiskeys and hands one to me. I shake my head, refusing the offer. I don’t want to get a taste for that stuff, but it must be serious if he’s going there again. “You might need this.”

  “Hit me with it. I can handle it.”

  He walks to his desk, retrieving a small cream envelope. When he gives it to me, my hands start to shake. I’d recognize my mum’s languid scrawl anywhere. “Where did you get this?” I whisper.

  He puts his drink down and kneels in front of me. “Dan received a parcel from Ireland a couple of weeks ago. There were a few letters in it. This is yours. I’ve already read mine.” My eyes widen. “It arrived the day before the attack. I was debating how to tell you when you ended up in the hospital, and I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you. I hope you understand why I held back.”

  I’m eyeing the envelope like it’s a hand grenade. I’m in no doubt whatever it contains has the power to rip me to shreds. Am I ready for that?

  “Did she explain, in your letter?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “You know who my real dad is?” He replies affirmatively again. “Oh.” Blood thrums through my veins and my chest tightens.

  “You don’t have to read it if you aren’t up for it. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I wasn’t happy keeping this from you any longer. Secrets are destroying this family, and that’s got to change.”

  I stand up. “I need to be alone.”

  “Of course.” He pulls me into a gentle hug. “I’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready to talk about it.” I nod on auto-pilot. He places his hands on my shoulder and tilts my head up so I’m looking at him. “Nothing in that letter changes how much we love you and want you here with us. Nothing has to change. We will support you whatever you decide, but I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart. Your place is here with us, and it always will be. You’re family, Faye.”

  A myriad of emotions rushes me. “I never thanked you properly.” I stare into his confused eyes. “For taking me in. For accepting me.”

  He kisses my forehead. “Sure, you did, sweetheart. You’ve shown us in all the things you do. We should be thanking you. Everyone is happier with you here.” Not everyone, I think, remembering Kent’s blatant hatred from earlier, although I don’t take that personally. “I’d hoped when I brought you here that you’d fit in,” James continues, “but it’s more than that. You bring out the best in us. You don’t merely fit in, you belong. You belong with us. I love you, sweetheart.”

  I can’t contain it anymore, and I break down, blubbing uncontrollably. He hasn’t a clue how much his words mean to me. James holds me as I cry. I’m a little embarrassed when I finally stop. I give him a tentative smile, shucking out of his embrace. “Sorry. I’m all over the place the last couple of weeks.”

  “It’s completely understandable.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to go back to my room now and …” My words trail off because I don’t know if I’m brave enough to open this letter. It’s like a ticking time bomb in my hands.

  I stop at the door, turning around to face him. “By the way, I love you too, and I love being a part of this family. I never thought I’d have this again, so, thank you.”

  I flop down on my bed, staring at the letter for what seems like hours. My finger lovingly traces my name on the envelope, and I hug it to me, closing my eyes and imagining it’s my mum. There’s a light knock on my door, and Ky sticks his head in the room. “I went looking for you because I was worried. Dad told me. Do you want some company or would you rather be left alone?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer truthfully. “I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I can.”

  He enters the room, quietly closing the door behind him. Scooting onto the bed beside me, he pulls me into his arms. Instantly, I feel more at ease. I snuggle into his chest, still clutching the envelope in one hand. “You don’t have to read it now. You can think about it. Let the idea of it settle in.”

  “Yeah. I think so. I … I’m not sure I’m ready to face the truth even though it’s all I’ve wanted since I found out. Guess I’m more of a chicken shit than I thought.” I attempt to deflect with humor.

  “Bull. You’re the strongest person I know.” He tilts my head up. “You’ve been through so much, and this is bound to put you through the wringer again. It’s not weak if you need to psych yourself up for that.”

  I press a brief kiss to his lips. “Thank you. Will you stay or is Brad waiting?”

  “I’ll stay. Brad understands.”

  Ky is snoring softly beside me, completely unconscious while I’ve barely managed to snatch more than twenty-minute naps, at best. My eyes skim over the envelope on my locker as I clock the time. Four twenty a.m. I know I won’t get any sleep until I read it. I turn on the bedside lamp and press my mouth to Ky’s. “Ky?” I run my hands over his chest and he stirs. I kiss him again, and he opens sleepy eyes, blinking furiously.

  “What’s wrong?” he croaks.

  “I need to read the letter.” He forces his eyes wide. “Can you read it with me?”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He reaches out and grasps my wrist.

  “I do. I have no secrets from you.”

  He sits up, draping his arm around my shoulders and pressing a sleepy kiss to my forehead. I take the letter from the locker, and my hands shake as I extract the contents from the envelope. There are six folded pages, all in my mum’s messy handwriting. My lower lip wobbles, and I’m fighting tears as I nestle into the crook of Ky’s arm. He holds me, pressing kisses into my hair and my face, and gradually I get a grip of myself. I smooth the first page out straight, and my breath quivers as I start reading.

  Darling Faye.

  Writing this letter is possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not only because what I need to share with you is going to be hugely traumatic, but mainly because I don’t want to be telling you like this. I hope you never get to read this letter. I hope I am explaining all this in person and that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. To try and understand how difficult it was to do the right thing. To find the right time. To acknowledge that my parenting skills weren’t always up to scratch, but I never stopped trying—I wanted to be the best mum because you deserved no less.

  You are the singular, most important thing in my life and the one person I love above everyone and everything else. Quite simply, you are the best thing that happened to me, and I am so proud to call you my daughter. I love you, honey.

  Tears are flowing down my cheeks as I read.

  I’ve isolated that paragraph and drawn a marker under it on purpose, because I want you to memorise it, to keep it close to your heart, to believe it as you read this letter.

  You are my greatest accomplishment, and I don’t know what I did right to deserve you, but whatever it was I’m so grateful. Every day, I thank God for bringing you into this world. Every day I thank him for your compassion and your grac
e and your thoughtfulness and your zest for life. I know there have been challenging times, when you struggled to accept and embrace who you are, but my daughter is the strongest, bravest girl in the whole universe, and she overcame her demons, emerging truer and stronger than ever before. Like I said, I’m so proud of you. For tons of other reasons, too, but if I start down that path, this letter will become a novel and I fear you’d stop reading before I get to the important part.

  You are loved. So profoundly. Never forget that.

  I can’t see over the tears clouding my vision. Large watery drops mark the page where my tears fall. I bury my head in Ky’s chest, needing the feel and smell of him to ground me before I can resume reading. He holds me wordlessly, knowing exactly what I need without me having to say it.

  I asked the solicitor to send this letter to you a few months after James’s guardianship started, because I wanted to give you some time to settle into your new home before hitting you with all this. By now, I wonder if James has told you the truth about our relationship and why I kept him hidden from you. When I first sat down to write this letter, I omitted any mention of it, focusing on the details of your birth that were relevant. But I was chickening out. You deserve to know the truth—the whole truth, no matter how ugly it is. So, I scrapped that letter and rewrote it from scratch.

  So here goes. (Taking a deep breath.)

  James and I had an incestuous relationship when we were teens. (Take a minute to let that sink in if you need to, honey.)

  It was wrong. I know that now. I knew it at the time, but I couldn’t confront him about it because I started it. I set us on that path and that’s haunted me my whole life. I spent years thinking I hated him, but I didn’t. How could I hate the one person who had always been there for me? My brother gave up his ambitions to care for me. He became my parents, my brother, my best friend, my confidant, my lover, my shoulder to lean on, and I am the person I am today because of him. So, I can’t hate him for that. I never did although there were times where I wanted to.

  But it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t mine either. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It happened because we were thrust together due to circumstance, and we transformed to be what each other needed. It was a fleeting moment in time, one that would’ve passed. I strongly believe that now.

  My biggest regret is running away from him without a word. I can’t even imagine what that must have done to James. He didn’t deserve that, but I was in a panic, and for the first time in my life, he couldn’t be there for me. It was time for me to grow up and face the reality of the situation I found myself in—a situation I had created.

  I’ve thought of him often over the years. Missed him. Longed to play a part in his life again, but it wasn’t the appropriate time. I had hoped that when you turned eighteen, after I had explained all this, and when you’d had time to process it, that we could try to reconcile. To form some type of relationship from the ashes of our past. But if you are reading this letter, it means I left it too late to make amends, so, I’ve included another letter for James. He deserves some closure, and I hope my letter can do that for him. Please, tell him I’m sorry and that he was always in my heart and in my thoughts.

  I look up at Ky and his sorrowful expression matches my own. He kisses my cheek, and I cup his face. My mum’s words have helped put things in perspective, and I truly hope that her letter offers James some peace.

  I’m expecting by now that you’ve realized why I ran away (my Faye is super smart.) Yes—I was pregnant with you, and I didn’t know who the father was. I had only been sleeping with James a few weeks when I met Adam. Adam’s family were very well-to-do, and they had a holiday home in Wexford which they used during school holidays and most weekends during spring and summer. We met at a local disco, and it was love at first sight. Even now, after all these years, thoughts of him cause my heart rate to spike unnaturally. We fell hard for one another, and I spent every spare moment with him. James worked a lot of overtime at weekends, and he knew I went to the disco with my friends on Saturday nights, so he never knew. I wanted to tell him. Tried to tell him so many times, but I worried what it would do to him, so I said nothing.

  I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, Faye, and I look back at how differently things could’ve been but I have no regrets. How can I when my life’s journey brought me you?

  When I discovered I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell any of my friends. None of them knew about James and me, and they would’ve automatically assumed the baby was Adam’s. I was tempted to tell Adam and hope that you were his. I knew he would look after me, but I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t trick him like that. He was sitting his Leaving Cert in a few months, and he had plans to study business in Trinity, and I couldn’t derail his life without proof the baby was his. But therein lay the problem. I had only turned seventeen, and I had no money of my own, and there was no way of organising a paternity test without James finding out. I didn’t even know if there was a way of proving it while I was still pregnant, and I was so scared. What if I went about the test and I had to admit my brother could potentially be the father? What if I had the test and it proved you were James’s baby? The authorities would’ve locked both of us up, and you would’ve been placed into foster care or even put up for adoption. I couldn’t contemplate such a scenario. So, I did the only thing I could think of.

  I ran away.

  I pawned all my mother’s jewellery and took whatever cash I could find, and I spent weeks travelling around Ireland, thumbing lifts and staying in hostels, always moving, never stopping in one place long enough for James to find me. Because I knew he was looking for me. That’s who my brother was.

  After a couple of months, I was running out of money, and I was tired and sick all the time, so I settled in a small village in county Waterford, renting a room with an elderly woman who was all alone. Mary turned out to be my saving grace. It was Mary who introduced me to the local shopkeeper and convinced her to hire me. Gerry and Ann Donovan were getting on in years, and their only son was working away in Belfast. They needed help with the shop but couldn’t afford to hire anyone full-time, so the arrangement suited me perfectly. When Mary discovered I was pregnant, she brought me to a doctor in Waterford city and ensured I got the best medical care. She never once judged me which is remarkable because most people her age were not very open-minded at that time.

  I met Gerry and Ann’s son when he came home for Christmas. Michael was besotted with me from the minute we met. He was seven years older, and I very clearly had a bun in the oven, but that didn’t stop your dad. (The fact he wasn’t your biological dad doesn’t change anything - he IS your father and always will be.) He went on a massive charm offensive, doing his best to woo me, but I insisted we stay as friends. My hormones were all over the place, and I was missing your uncle and pining for Adam, and it didn’t feel right to start anything with Michael while I still felt like that. He respected my wishes, and he told me he would wait until I was ready. He was content to be my friend until he could be more.

  Michael was in the hospital when you were born, and the third person to see you after me and Mary. He fell in love with you instantly. I was only home from the hospital two days when he proposed. I turned him down flat, but your dad could be very insistent (some would call it stubborn) when he wanted to be (remember the time with the car?) and eventually he wore me down and I agreed.

  I smile through my tears, recalling a happier time. “When I was fourteen, my parents took me with them when they were buying a new car. My mum fell in love with this canary yellow Mini Cooper but my dad insisted it was too small and too bright, and he wanted her to get this Toyota. It was roomier and a more sedate silver with less mileage.” A sharp ache twists like a knife in my gut.

  “So, you went home with the Toyota?” Ky deduces.

  I smile again. “No, we went home with the Mini Cooper, but five days later m
y mother returned it to the garage and came home with the Toyota. My father kept up a relentless campaign the whole five days, printing off all these reports from the internet showing comparisons between both cars and safety specs and details of resale value. She couldn’t take it anymore so she gave in.” I rest my head on his chest. “Most men would just give into their wives, and my dad did that a lot too. But our safety was of paramount importance to him. He’d virtually grown up on Mondello Race Track, and he’d seen his fair share of crashes. He was fixated on safety, and that’s why he didn’t give up. He knew the Toyota would be a better car for my mum.”

  I sniffle. “Maybe if she’d kept the Mini Cooper, they wouldn’t have died as they did. Irony is a bitch.”

  He holds me tight to him, and his quiet strength gives me the courage to continue. I pick up the letter and resume reading.

  Now, listen up carefully because this part is very important. I may not have been in love with your dad when I married him, but I respected and admired him enormously, and I knew I was entrusting my future, and yours, to a good man. I told him the truth, about James and Adam, and he didn’t judge me. He was shocked, naturally, but it didn’t change how he felt about me, about you. I knew then that I was making the right call, that marrying him was the right thing to do. And I did fall in love with him, and he became everything I hadn’t even realised I craved. I hope you saw how much we loved one another and that you believe me when I tell you it was real and genuine. It was different to the love I felt for James, and different to the love I shared with Adam, but I love Michael so completely. I have never regretted the choice I made to marry him, and he has never let me down.