Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Prologue

  SIOBHAN DAVIS

  www.siobhandavis.com

  Note from the Author

  While this book is a standalone title in the Kennedy Boys series, it is advisable to have read the previous books as that is where we were first introduced to most of the characters in this book.

  Due to some heavy subject matter, sexual situations, language, and possible triggers, this book is not suitable for anyone under the age of eighteen.

  Rachel, our female protagonist, has only recently immigrated to America. Her word choices, speech patterns, and colloquialisms are Irish English, and I have enclosed a glossary at the back of this book which might come in handy as you read!

  For readers who are up to date with this series, we meet Brad and Rachel in Saving Brad as they are both starting their sophomore year at their respective colleges. I know many of you are Team Brad, and your enthusiastic feedback is the main reason why this book was brought forward in the series. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Table of Contents

  Note from the Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Epilogue

  The Irish Getaway

  Inseparable

  Inseparable–Sample

  Prologue

  Glossary Of Irish Words And Phrases

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books By Siobhan Davis

  Copyright

  Prologue

  August–Nantucket

  Brad

  “You remember Rach, right, Brad?” Faye gestures toward her friend who is currently engrossed in conversation on the other side of the patio with a newly engaged Lana and Kalvin. They’ve just returned from visiting the house Kal bought his fiancée as a surprise engagement present.

  Hell, yeah. Of course, I remember her. “Sure.” Play it cool, dude. “Hard to forget mouthy little Red.” Except she’s dyed her hair since the first time we met, and her bright red locks have been replaced by rich chocolaty-brown strands that beg to be touched.

  Faye scowls. “I hope you’re not going to be rude to her again.”

  Uh-oh. Recalling our chat from an hour ago, I realize it’s a bit late for that. But that’s not what Faye is referencing.

  The first time I met Rachel was when she sprung a surprise visit on Faye, at Wellesley, with their other friend Jill, more than a year and a half ago.

  I was only rude to her about ninety-five percent of the time.

  The other five percent … well, let’s just say I definitely wasn’t rude then and leave it at that.

  I smother my smirk before Faye notices. “Don’t worry. I’ll play nice.” I send her a toothy grin, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously. Considering Faye never said a word to me after her friends returned to Ireland, I think it’s safe to assume Rachel didn’t tell her what went down between us. I thought girls told each other everything, and I’d been expecting a shakedown that never happened.

  Thoughts of that night wander through my mind, and not for the first time.

  It was one of the hottest experiences of my life.

  We’d been out in Boston earlier that day. After dinner in the city, we came back to the house and watched a couple of movies. Rachel and I had been knocking back beers at an alarming rate, as if it was an implied competition. Ky had been pawing at Faye relentlessly all day, and I’d just about reached my limit. Excusing myself, I’d lied and said I was tired, but I didn’t head to bed. I stepped outside, oblivious to the cold winter night air because I was so consumed with thoughts of Faye and the caustic pain ripping my insides apart.

  My heart throbs painfully in my chest, performing that horrible twisty thing it does every time I think of her—the girl I want and can never have.

  Speaking of.

  “Earth to Brad.” Faye clicks her fingers in my face. “Where’d you go? I’ve been talking for, like, the last three minutes, and you haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

  “Sorry. Drifted off.”

  She takes a step closer, and I instinctively take a step back. Defensive mode is the only way I can tolerate being around her these days. The urge to sweep her into my arms and kiss the living daylights out of her hasn’t faded. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Ky watching me with hawk eyes.

  He knows.

  He knows it hasn’t gotten any better.

  That I’m still lusting after his woman.

  Wrong. Still in love with his woman.

  The tiny cracks in our relationship are spreading, and I’m waiting for him to detonate. Can’t say I’d blame my best bud. He’s been unbelievably mature about the whole situation, but I know I’m stretching his patience to the limit. It’s been almost two years, and I should be over her. God knows I’ve screwed enough girls in the intervening period, but trying to fuck her out of my head isn’t working.

  Nothing is working.

  I’m still in love with my best friend’s girl. His one true love. The girl who will always be by his side.

  I’m pathetic and weak, and I hate myself for it. Every day my self-loathing intensifies until I think I might burn from the inside out.<
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  Faye sighs, dragging me back into the moment. “Are things ever going to be okay with the three of us?” Her bright smile has evaporated.

  I could lie but what’s the point?

  She knows how I feel.

  He knows how I feel.

  It’s the unspoken elephant in the room. This constant wedge between us. I don’t know how much more of the stress I can take.

  “I’m trying,” I answer honestly.

  She shakes her head sadly. “No, you’re not. Not really.” I arch a brow. “I know you’re screwing all around you, but you always pick the wrong girls, and I’ll bet you’re doing that on purpose.”

  “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me,” I growl, irritated all of a sudden. “You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

  Bravely, she touches my arm. “You’re right. I don’t, because you keep shutting me out. Shutting Ky out.”

  “Because I have to!” I run my hands through my hair. “I can’t talk to you about it, and you know why.”

  “You need to widen the field. Look for a nice girl, not one of those groupies who hang off your every word. That’s not you. I know it isn’t.”

  “Faye, I’m nineteen, on the football team at Harvard, and as horny as the next guy. No guy goes to college to find their soul mate. They go to party and fuck as many girls as they can before they settle down. There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing, and you and Kyler don’t get to lecture me on my lifestyle, so butt out.”

  Shucking her hand off, I walk away, not giving a shit that it’s rude to bail without warning. I need to blow off some steam—to calm the insanity brewing to epic proportions inside my head. I stomp down to the beach, veering left away from the party in full swing on the other side of the sandy strip.

  I drop down onto the sand and rest my head on my knees. What an epic fuck-up. Shit. I let out a frustrated roar. Way to act like a total immature ass.

  I need a distraction, so when my mind returns to that night with Rachel, I welcome it.

  I was out on the patio, feeling sorry for myself when she joined me. “What do you want?” I snapped.

  She faced the picturesque gardens as she spoke. “She’s completely and utterly in love with Ky.”

  I sighed. “I know.”

  She turned around to me. “So, do something about it, because you’re wasting your time if you think she’s going to ever leave him.”

  “Don’t pretend you know what I’m thinking or what I should do.”

  “You’re an idiot.” She barked out a laugh. “A guy like you has tons of options. Find someone else. Get laid. Find a life that isn’t so centered around the Kennedys and this house. Take control of your own life. You dictate where you go and who you spend it with.”

  “You make it sound so easy.” And, suddenly, I’d wondered if we were even speaking about me anymore.

  She paused considerably before replying, and I swore tears appeared briefly in her eyes. “I know it’s not easy. Nothing that important ever is.”

  “How do you do it?” I risked asking, looking at her with a fresh perspective.

  Her pretty brown eyes glistened with pain. “I’m still trying to figure it out, but I think I’m getting there.”

  “How?” I whispered, moving closer to her. I stared deep into her eyes, like they might hold the key to eradicating my misery.

  She peered up at me, contemplating how much to tell me. Right then, Rachel was an open book, and the pain I witnessed was all too real. That girl was hurting. “I drink and I fuck, usually in that order. It’s the only time I can blank it all out.”

  My eyes popped wide in surprise. Not at what she told me. I’d seen enough the night before to verify that statement. I was startled she was being so honest. We were virtual strangers, and she owed me nothing. “Does it help?”

  Her hand landed on my arm, and tingles danced over my skin even through my shirt. “Yes and no.” She moved closer and her chest brushed against mine. “It dulls the pain in the moment.” Her hands slid up my chest, and my arms wrapped around her waist. My heart started beating faster. “And in that moment, it feels fucking great. Not to think about any of the crap. Just to feel”—she looked off into space—“normal. Even if it is fleeting, delusional.”

  “You want to feel like that now?” I whispered, fixating on her mouth so there could be no misunderstanding.

  “You don’t even like me.”

  “You don’t like me.”

  “True.” She smiled as her small hands crept around the back of my neck. “You’re a dick.”

  “Do you like most of the guys you fuck?” I pulled her closer against my body, ensuring she felt the straining bulge in my pants.

  She thought about that for a bit. “No. Almost never.”

  I grinned. “Well then, I don’t think we have any problem. Do you?” A slight frown appeared on her forehead, and I instantly knew what caused it. “Don’t go there. You’ve already said it. She loves him. She wouldn’t care about this.”

  “She cares about you.”

  “Please. Don’t.” My tone was effusive with pleading. Now that the seeds had been sown, and my body was on board with the plan, if she backed out, I would be in a whole new world of pain.

  Removing her hands from my neck, she slid one down the narrow gap between us, palming my erection. “You need this? You need me?”

  “Yes,” I growled, pushing into her hand.

  A steely resolve etched across her face. “Fuck me, Brad.”

  And I did.

  And it was the hottest sex of my life.

  Pushing her up against the wall, ensuring we were out of sight of the windows, I tore her panties away as she popped the button on my jeans. Our mouths meshed in a frantic marriage of pain and lust and anger and despair. She tasted of beer and mint, and her lips were as soft as silk as they moved effortlessly against mine. My fingers plunged into her wet warmth, and she moaned low under her breath, already as worked up as me. Shoving my jeans and boxers down, and quickly rolling a condom on, I thrust into her hard, over and over, while she dug her nails into my back. I captured her moans with my mouth and held her legs firmly around my waist as I fucked her. My hand was rough as it kneaded her breast through her dress, and I could feel her body on the brink of losing control. “God, Brad. Don’t stop. Fuck me harder. Do it. Harder. Faster,” she gritted out, and I damn near exploded on the spot. When she came, her entire body shuddered around me as she whispered my name in my ear. My release followed and I continued pumping until I was completely spent.

  I’m hard now just thinking about it.

  After we screwed, we just walked away without acknowledging what we’d done. She left the next day without even saying goodbye. I’d like to say I haven’t thought of her in the interim, but there’s no point lying to myself.

  I have thought of her often.

  Wondered what kind of pain tortures her.

  Wondered how many random guys she’s fucked since I last saw her and whether it’s brought her any measure of peace.

  I bark out a dry laugh as realization dawns. Unwittingly, I’ve been following her advice. Getting drunk and getting laid, but she’s right. It’s a momentary escape from the pain. Once it’s over, the usual heartache returns. Only this time, the heartache is joined by a new layer of guilt and self-revulsion.

  Does she feel that too?

  Does Rachel hate herself as much as I hate me?

  She’s moving here now. She’s transferred from her college in Ireland to the Massachusetts College of Art and Design. Alex Kennedy, Ky’s mom, helped set everything up.

  As Faye’s best friend, and new roomie, Rachel is going to be a more permanent feature in my life. Not that I need any more complications, but I guess I’m about to discover the answers to my questions.

  Chapter One

  Three Weeks Later


  Brad

  Faye’s stunning blue eyes swim to the forefront of my mind and I groan. Not now. Go away. It’s bad enough I’m in love with my best friend’s girl, but the fact she plays a starring role in my daily fantasies makes me feel like some sick pervert. Ky would cut my balls off if he knew the extent of my obsession. Honestly, it’s getting to the stage where I’m starting to genuinely worry about myself. Nails dig into my ass, and I thrust harder, grunting as a wave of pleasure courses through me.

  “Who the hell is Faye?” the blonde underneath me asks with a growl, clearly pissed.

  “No one …” Fuck, what’s her name? Cassie? Carla? Kayla, that’s it, I’m pretty sure. “Kayla. Sorry, baby. This is so good.” I thrust in harder to drill it home. See my point? I’m totally losing it if I’m calling out Faye’s name as I’m nailing some other chick. My own thoughts make me a little sick. How has it come to this? How have I sunk so low?

  Her eyes roll in her head, and her back arches off the bed. “That is good, baby. And my name’s Callie, asshole.”