Saving Brad (The Kennedy Boys Book 5) Read online

  Ky cracks up laughing in the front seat while maneuvering the SUV out of the car park.

  “Okay, I’ll concede on dick size. A juicy big cock is nice.” Faye makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat. “Riding a tiny pecker is no fun, but, size aside, guys can be taught how to use their dicks correctly. It’s not rocket science.”

  He pins me with an intense look. “It sounds like you have lots of personal experience.”

  And just like that, he transforms a jokey conversation into a serious one. All the blood drains from my face. I had to put up with a lot of this shite back home, and I’m not going to deal with the same crap here. Especially not from him. “Are you calling me a slut?”

  He holds my gaze. “I’m not the one who used that word.”

  Faye gasps.

  “So, let me know if I got this straight. It’s okay for you to act like a manwhore around campus and everyone will pat you on the back and tell you ‘you the man,’ but a girl who indulges in casual sex is a slut and deserves to be stoned for her deviant ways?” I glare at him, putting the full weight of years of hurt behind it. “Have I got that right?”

  “I don’t make the rules, Red. Things are the way they are, and I think you’re getting your panties in a bunch for no good reason.”

  “You would say that. You’re a class-A jerk.”

  “Do you always resort to insults to try and win an argument? I hate to break it to you, but that’s a proven sign of lower intelligence.”

  I curl my hands into fists at my side. “And any guy who throws that accusation around just to one-up a girl who is clearly anything but stupid is an arrogant motherfucker.”

  I was going to add “with a small dick” onto the end, but I stopped myself in time. That is something I know categorically isn’t true, and there’s no way I want to introduce that particular subject to the conversation. I’m not sure why I kept the fact I slept with Brad from Faye, but it isn’t something I want to dwell on or discuss at this juncture. I made a solemn promise to myself to leave the past behind when I left Ireland, and I’m not about to renege on that deal.

  My sanity depends upon it.

  My future depends upon it.

  “Can you two just stop? Please,” Faye beseeches. “You’re making my head hurt.”

  I send one last glare Brad’s way, before squishing over in the seat until my body is crushed against the door, putting as much distance between us as physically possible.

  “Oh my God, Faye!” I screech when we enter the apartment, dropping my handbag on the floor by the fireplace as we step into the open living space. The place is virtually unrecognizable. It was just a bare shell when I signed the contract, and now it is fully furnished. Faye has obviously gone to considerable lengths with the interior styling, and I couldn’t love my friend any more than I do in this minute. She has no idea how much something like this means to me.

  The living room is all soft couches in muted grays and lilacs with matching rugs, pictures, and other accessories. Floating gossamer curtains frame the wide window at the far side of the room. “You have done an amazing job, girlfriend. It’s stunning. I love it.”

  I trail the tips of my fingers over the expensive-looking walnut table as I pass by the dining area and into the kitchen. The white gloss cupboards are clean and new despite the overuse they have no doubt already been subjected to. Faye and Ky have been living here the past week, coordinating the fit-out. Faye loves to cook, and I’m sure she has given the kitchen a thorough workout by now. I smile when I spot the far wall devoted to Hewson. There must be at least twenty photos of the little guy pinned to the corkboard. I inspect them more closely, smiling at his adorable little face. “He’s so cute he almost makes me broody.”

  “I know. Me too. I just love him so much.” Faye has that dreamy quality to her voice that is always evident when she talks about Kyler’s nephew. The pair of them dotes on him.

  Kyler almost chokes on his bottle of water, and Brad slaps him on the back.

  I open the side door to our private deck, admiring the little wicker table and two chairs. Two narrow loungers reside on the other side, and a massive cream-colored plant pot is crammed to capacity with colorful flowers.

  “Let me show you your room.” Faye tugs on my elbow, pulling me back inside as the boys drop down on the loungers, stretching out their long limbs.

  “Well, what do you think?” she asks, nervously chewing on the side of her thumb. My gaze roams the room, skimming over the king-sized cream leather bed, the sleek glossy furniture, and the beautiful cream, gold, and duck-egg blue bedspread and matching curtains. A soft beige carpet is underfoot.

  I spin around, pulling my best friend into my arms. “I love it. It’s perfect. Elegant and understated.”

  She eases back, frowning a little as she scrutinizes my face. “Why the worry lines?” she asks.

  “I thought I told you to take the master suite? It makes more sense for you to have the bigger room. You are the one with the boyfriend after all.”

  “Rach, you own this place. I didn’t feel comfortable taking the master bedroom.”

  That’s Faye all over. “You’re an idiot.” I lightly punch her in the arm. “We’ve talked about this. It doesn’t matter who bought the place. It’s only money.” I can afford to be flippant about it now. My whole attitude to money changed after my parents won over eighty million euro on the lottery. Before then, I would have shared Faye’s opinions, but now I have more than I need, so I refuse to let it get in the way of anything. Faye has a generous allowance from her recently discovered bio dad, and the Kennedys are loaded, so money is not an issue for her either, but I sense she’s still struggling to come to terms with that.

  As if on cue, she rolls her eyes. “I can’t believe you’ve done a one-eighty. You were such a tight wad in school.” She holds up a hand as I open my mouth to speak. “I know. I know. It’s because you didn’t have much money back then, and now you have loads, but I don’t get how your attitude has changed so fast.”

  “There are more pressing demands on my headspace than money, Faye. That’s why. It’s one less thing to worry about and I’m not going to feel guilty for it. Mum and Dad gave us ten mill each and I’m more than set up for life.”

  She nods. “You still should have let me pay half. James and Dad were more than happy to cough up my share.” James is Kyler’s dad and Faye’s uncle. Although, they only found out a couple years ago that James isn’t actually his bio dad. That’s a whole other story.

  “I need to have somewhere I can call mine even though”—I rush to reassure her—“this is totally your place too.” It’s hard to articulate my feelings, and I mean every word. This apartment is as much hers as it is mine, but it was important to me that my name was the only one on the deed. I need to make roots. To forge a new path in life. To forget the past, live in the present, and look forward to the future. It’s hard to explain that to anyone when they don’t know the secret I’ve been hiding these last six years.

  Faye swallows noisily, and we stare at one another. I know it’s on the tip of her tongue. To ask me, as she does periodically from time to time, if I’m ready to talk about it. She knows something happened to me, but she has none of the specifics, and I intend to keep it that way.

  I can’t tell her.

  Can’t tell anyone.

  I’m too ashamed.

  I swing into deflective mode. “My parents are getting divorced.”

  Her eyes pop wide. “What?”

  I perch on the edge of the soft bed. “That’s what they wanted to talk to me about. It’s a joke.” I shake my head as a sour taste fills my mouth. “Dad is shacked up with this gold digger who is barely older than me, and Mom is indulging all her cougar fantasies with her gym instructor. Apparently, they have fallen out of love and want to move on in their lives, blah, blah.”

  “I�
��m so sorry, Rach. Does your brother know?” I nod, not wanting to get into a conversation about Alec. “How are you feeling?” She sits down beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

  “I’m not really sure yet,” I admit truthfully. After years of pretending I don’t have any feelings—it’s been my main coping mechanism—I’m terrified to open that door. Afraid all the pent-up emotions from my past will jump out and swamp me, drowning me in a sea of things I don’t want to think about let alone feel.

  Relocating to America is my big attempt at taking control of my life. Already, I can breathe easier here. There is less looking over my shoulder. The sense of relief that I’ve done it, that I’ve followed through, is monumental.

  I just hope it’s enough.

  That the distance is enough.

  That I can finally live my life without fear.

  Because I’m done being a victim.

  I’m a survivor.

  And it’s finally time to start living my life.

  Chapter Three

  Brad

  It’s the next morning, and I’m standing in line in the local coffee place waiting for Ky to show up when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, wracking my brains, when I spot the blonde from yesterday. Shit, what was her name again? “Hey.”

  “Hey, asshole.” Her lips curl into a snarl.

  What is it with chicks calling me derogatory names? Rach had a choice collection for me yesterday, not that I didn’t deserve some of them. I was out of line with my insinuations, but what she doesn’t know is that it’s deliberate. I need her to continue hating me, because she’s far too fucking tempting otherwise. I’ve already jerked off twice thinking about her, which is causing a certain degree of confusion in my muddled mind.

  “I’m not interested in talking to you if you’re not going to be nice.” I move to turn back around, but she applies gentle pressure to my arm, stalling me.

  “I know who she is.”

  I quirk a brow. I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about.

  “Faye.”

  That one word sends chills up my spine. I shove her hand off. “What the fuck?”

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just letting you know I know who Faye is.”

  The line moves as the door swings open, and Ky steps inside. I inwardly curse. I don’t know what her agenda is, but the last thing I need right now is Ky discovering I called out Faye’s name while I was boning some random chick. I jerk my chin up, gesturing to the empty table in the corner. “Grab that,” I holler. “I’ll put your order in.”

  The girl spins around, watching Ky weave a path through the busy café. Slowly, she turns around. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  I lean down, putting my face in hers. “I don’t know what you think you know, but you’re mistaken. Faye is my best friend’s girlfriend, and there is nothing going on with me and her. She’s over at our place all the time, and I was drunk the other morning. It was a slip of the tongue, and it meant nothing.”

  “Whatever you say, asshole.” She folds her arms, leveling a stubborn look my way.

  I narrow my eyes. “If you do anything to cause problems between them, I won’t hesitate to take you down. Consider this a warning.”

  She shoves her middle finger up at me, all brazen like. She starts backing up toward the door, sneaking glances at Ky as she does. “Whatever you say, asshole!” she yells, before pushing her way outside.

  I curse under my breath as I watch the confusion spread across Ky’s face. The line moves, and I prop my elbows on the counter while I place our orders.

  I hand Ky his coffee, taking the seat across from him. “What’s her beef?” he asks straightaway.

  “Told you already, I don’t know,” I lie, “but I hope she’s not going to become a problem.”

  “It’s par for the course when you screw around. You’re bound to meet a few whackos.” He blows on the top of his coffee before taking a sip. “All set for Monday?”

  The first semester officially starts on Monday, and, contrary to popular opinion, I’m actually looking forward to getting stuck into my studies, especially now I’ve chosen business administration and management as my major. It’s good to have a dedicated focus. Although my schedule is heavy between classes and football, I welcome it. There’s less time to think. Harvard suits me so well in a lot of regards. It isn’t one of those colleges where football is king and the players are treated like immortals, and I like that. We have decent support at our games, and the team enjoys a certain notoriety, but not every person knows who I am on campus, and I can go about my business largely under the radar. Plus, the professors are excellent, and no one frowns upon you if you take your studies seriously.

  I need to graduate with strong results. I know I’m a decent football player, but so are a lot of guys on the team. More than thirty-five ex-Crimson players have been drafted or signed professional contracts with the NFL, but the competition is always fierce, and the odds are slim. I can’t count on a professional football career. While it would be a dream come true, I’ve had a dose of reality these last few years, and nothing is guaranteed.

  Thanks to my quasi-orphan status, I’m on a scholarship, and I need to maintain good grades. Usually, you have to find some kind of work if you are on a scholarship here, but I’m exempted due to my football commitments. I have minimal spare time, so I’ve had to take out a few student loans to cover the rest of my expenses. I prefer that though, and even if I graduate with a mountain of debt, I’d hate to be saddled with work on top of my other responsibilities. Having a job would’ve given me zero time for partying, which is the only way I’m managing to retain a grip on my sanity in light of my whole unrequited love scenario.

  I lean back in my seat, stretching my legs out and crossing my feet at the ankles. “Yeah. I’m ready for Monday. I took some extra classes during summer break so I’m ahead.”

  “Cool. Have you heard anything from your family?”

  Piercing dagger-like pains stab me all over. “Nah, man. Same ole, same ole.” I’m downplaying it but Ky knows me too well.

  “Shit, bro. I hate that. Are you sure you don’t want me to get my parents on the case? I know they could do something.”

  This is, like, the millionth time he’s offered, and I’m really grateful that he wants to help. But no one can. It’s an impossible situation. “Thanks, dude. I know you want to help, but it’s too risky. I don’t know if the Feds are still keeping tabs on me, and I can’t take that chance.”

  I only discovered the Feds were watching me when Faye was kidnapped during senior year of high school. Ky and I had taken off after her, making a botched rescue attempt. If the Feds hadn’t shown up, I’m not sure what would have happened. Turns out, they’d been following me for a while. Hoping my renegade parents would reach out to me and they’d have a lock on their whereabouts. But my parents haven’t contacted me since they fled abroad over two and a half years ago.

  “I thought Kev confirmed they weren’t?” Ky responds, taking a big slurp of his drink.

  Keven Kennedy has mad hacking skills, an expertise his family—and me by extension—have had cause to lean on a lot in the last couple years. On many occasions, I’ve been tempted to call him and ask him to search for my family, but I’ve always stopped myself. While Kev has considerable ability, I still can’t take the risk. My family’s lives depend on them staying hidden. Still it sucks that I don’t even know where they are or what they’ve been doing these last few years.

  “He did, and while I’m not doubting your brother, I’m still being cautious. You never know with stuff like this. The government wants to catch my dad real bad. It’s an election year, and it’d make them look good.”

  “It sucks, man.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  We are both quiet for a bit. Thoughts of my family always ma
ke me melancholy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen them, and I miss them so much. I hate feeling like this. Aimless, lost, alone.

  “Hey, speaking of Keven. It’s his twenty-first next week and Mom’s throwing a party at the Boston Merrion Hotel on Saturday. You’re coming, right?”

  “Sure. Wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for the invite.” He rubs his prickly jaw, looking pensive, and I know he has something on his mind. “Out with it.”

  “What’s going on with you and Rachel?”

  I drain the last dregs of my coffee before I reply. “Has she said something is going on between us?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Let’s just call it intuition.”

  I may as well come clean. I shrug. “We fucked once. The first time we met. It’s no biggie.”

  A sly smile spreads across his mouth. “You dirty dog, McConaughey. You kept that one quiet.”

  “It was in the middle of all that shit that was going down. It didn’t seem important.” That’s only a half-truth, though. I didn’t want it getting back to Faye that I’d had sex with one of her best friends. I was still harboring hope she’d pick me, and I didn’t want it influencing her decision. But that ship has long since sailed, and I figure it’s only a matter of time before Rachel fills her in.

  “You got feelings for her?”

  “Nope.” I pop the P, rubbing a thumb across my lower lip.

  He surveys me astutely. “Okay. Well, you should know she was with Kev when we vacationed in Ireland last year. I don’t know exactly what went down between them, but she asked Faye for his number last night.”

  I shrug, feigning indifference. “None of my business.”

  If that’s really the case, why is there such a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach?

  “Party at Noah’s tonight,” Ryan says as we walk out of the locker room together. My hair is still damp from the shower, and my legs ache from the extra ten laps coach made me run for arguing with him in front of the team. “You game?”