Losing Kyler (The Kennedy Boys Book 2) Read online

  I take a fleeting look over my shoulder, watching the baying crowds back at the gate. “That was insane.”

  “Get used to it. Word is obviously out.”

  Ky is waiting at the front entrance when we pull up. Butterflies flood my stomach at the sight of him, and blood thunders through my veins. A piercing ache stabs me clear through the heart. Simply seeing him hurts so much.

  My fingers are curled around the door handle when Brad places his hand on my elbow. “Wait a sec.” I turn around. “I don’t want to leave things like this between us. I know you want to help, and I love you for that, but I need to do this on my own.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  His face softens. “Thank you, but let me sort this myself. Please.”

  I hate lying to him, because there’s no way I’m letting him sleep in his car, but I can tell he isn’t going to back down so I’ve no choice. I bob my head, convincing myself it’s not so bad because I haven’t lied out loud.

  “Will you be in school tomorrow? Do you want me to pick you up?” he asks.

  “Yes, and I’m not sure. James said something about bodyguards earlier, so I’ll need to check with him. Plus, I don’t like the thoughts of you navigating that mob out front.”

  “I’ve handled worse.” He grins.

  Ky is watching us with inquisitive eyes, a concentrated frown creasing his brow.

  “I’d better go.” I dart forward and press a light kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for today. I needed that.”

  His smile expands. “Glad to help.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I know it seems like your world has turned upside down, but you’ll get through this. I can relate and, with time and perspective, it does get easier.”

  “I hope so.” I offer him a weak smile as I climb out of his car, purposely avoiding Ky’s penetrating gaze as he stalks toward Brad’s side.

  I slip into the house quietly and head toward my room. Silence surrounds me and I briefly wonder where everyone is. Throwing myself onto my bed, I bury my head in the duvet. My phone pings in my pocket and I fumble for it. It’s Rach and Jill calling, my two best friends from back home. I hold the vibrating phone in my hand, staring at it like it’s some alien object. Even though the girls are basically my surrogate sisters, I can’t summon the courage to answer. Because I won’t be able to conceal my distress and I’ll have to tell them everything, and I’m not ready for that. I needed to get all the crap off my chest earlier, and I knew Brad was a safe bet—that he wouldn’t judge me or betray my trust, but it’s different with my Irish friends. Jill and Rach practically lived in my house, and they were super fond of my parents, of Mum, in particular. I don’t want them to know what she did and not solely because I know it will tarnish their memory of her.

  It’s also because I’m so ashamed.

  My mum willingly slept with her brother, and that knowledge makes me so sick.

  But what’s even worse is the thought that I could be a chip off the old block.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  Because if Ky turns out to my brother, how the hell can I stay away from him when I already love him so much?

  I must’ve nodded off because the next thing I’m aware of is a persistent knocking on my door. “Faye,” James calls out. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” I reply in a sleep-drenched voice, sitting up and pushing clumps of knotty hair out of my eyes.

  James steps into the room. “Sorry for disturbing you, but I wanted to let you know that a specialist medical team is on the way. We thought it best to conduct the DNA testing here.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “They’ll arrive in twenty minutes if you want to freshen up.”

  I recall episodes of crime shows I’ve watched on TV. “Are they just going to swab my mouth or something?”

  “I think they’ll probably take blood samples from both of us too.”

  I absentmindedly scratch my head. “Fine. Come get me when they’re here.”

  I brush my teeth and drag a comb through my hair. Once I’ve pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater, I set out for Ky’s room. Brad said he didn’t want me to talk to Alex, but he said nothing about Ky. Okay, I’m splitting hairs but hopefully he’ll get over it. Ky isn’t in his room, so I try the second most likely place.

  The whirring noise of equipment greets me as I push open the door to the gym. Predictably, Ky is standing up on the bike, his feet working a hundred miles an hour. His workout shirt is in a discarded heap on the floor, and his muscular back glistens with sweat. My core pulses with need, and an indulgent moan escapes my lips as I close my eyes and pray for strength I’m terrified I don’t have.

  When I reopen my eyes, Ky is peering at me over his shoulder. Beads of sweat dot his forehead, and his cheeks are flushed red with exertion. The bike slows down and he jumps off, grabbing a towel from the handlebars and wiping it across his slick brow. He walks toward me but I hold out a palm to stop him. “Stay right there.” I step back, flattening my body to the wall. My knees have turned to jelly, and the firm concrete against my spine is the only thing keeping me upright.

  My attraction to Ky has always been off the charts, and it’s taking every morsel of self-control not to fling myself into his arms. I rub the sore spot over my chest as I force my eyes to the floor. “I need to talk to you about Brad. He’s being evicted from his house on Friday, and he has nowhere to go. I told him I’d speak to your mom, but he went apeshit on me.”

  I sense Ky’s presence in front of me before his shadow darkens the floor, alerting me to his proximity. “Faye.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

  Despite my better judgment, I look up. My eyes follow a line from the defined ridges of his perfect abs, over his broad chest and shoulders, up to his stunning face. His mouth parts ever so slightly and visions of sucking his lower lip between my teeth resurrect to taunt me. I stare at his mouth, remembering how amazing he tastes, how silky smooth his lips feel moving against mine, and how luxuriant his tongue is when it caresses mine. I almost choke on the anguished lump in my throat.

  Then I make a fatal mistake.

  I immerse myself in his eyes.

  Everything I’m feeling is perfectly mirrored in his gaze, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. My fingers twitch with potent need, and my chest visibly inflates as my breath rushes out in transparent need. Every molecule of my being craves the boy in front of me, and the fact that I can’t act on that urge is killing me.

  Holy crap. I am totally losing the plot.

  My errant emotions have complete control over me, and I hate feeling so disconnected from myself and from him. Ky is the only person who understands me. Who completes me. The first time we met, we saw inside one another in a way that is inexplicable. There’s a dark, empty void in both of us that calls out to one another. An unspoken, undefined connection that irrevocably links us. We belong together. There’s no other truth that resonates more fully.

  Uncertainty and pain is written all over his face, and I know he longs to touch me. It’s the same for me with him. He takes another step forward, until we are toe to toe, and my breath hitches. We stare at one another—deep, addictive, hankering stares—and I can scarcely breathe over the burning longing infusing every cell, every nerve ending, every nook and cranny. This is awful and I don’t know how much I can take before I crack. Having to revert to where we were a few weeks ago is almost unbearable. Anticipation wafts through the air, interlaced with an undercurrent of danger that is alluring and intoxicating. Ky and I have always fed off that dangerous vibe we share, and it’s never been more precarious than right now.

  He lowers his face toward mine, and I shutter my eyes. I’m terrified and excited and disgusted and turned-on all at the same time. He presses his forehead to mine, and that tiny touch ignites the fire inside me. His seductive breath oozes over my skin
, tempting and taunting me, and I almost cry out in frustration. My heart pounds frantically, and we’re only a hairsbreadth from one another.

  It would take nothing to close the tiny gap between us.

  To press my body against his. To place my palm over his chest and feel the pulsing of his heart against my hand. To tilt my head up and claim a kiss. To bury my tongue in his mouth and allow his taste to overpower me. To make me forget everything. To help him forget everything.

  Yes, it would take nothing to do that, to take that, but I can’t.

  Instead, I thrust my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching for him. “This is the worst form of torture,” I whisper, still refusing to open my eyes. If I do that, I know I won’t be able to resist.

  “This is going to be much harder than I thought,” he rasps, threading his fingers in my hair. “I miss you so much already.”

  “Stop, Ky. Please. Don’t touch me.” I don’t mean it. I don’t want him to stop, but my self-control is floundering, and one of us has to halt this before it goes any further.

  I love you so much.

  The words hang on my tongue, and I want to tell him so badly but I can’t. I’m seconds away from losing it as it is.

  “I love you,” he whispers in that hypnotic voice I adore. “It can’t be wrong. It just can’t be. Not when it feels like this.”

  My dissolve crumbles and I bury my head in his chest with an audible whimper.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, rubbing his hands up and down my spine. “I’m sorry I’m weak, but I want to be here for you, and it’s killing me that I can’t.”

  My arms lock around his waist, and I practically mold my body to his, wanting our embrace to never end.

  He could be your brother.

  I freeze the instant that thought lodges in my mind. Summoning the last vestiges of my strength, I let go, pushing him gently away. Finally, I open my eyes, and I’m startled to see his eyes soaked in such naked emotion. Ky doesn’t let many people see the real him, and I’m still awed whenever he shows himself to me. But his vulnerability on this occasion is so visceral, so raw, and coming straight from his heart, it guts me. I hate that he’s suffering as much as I am. I hate this situation, but we have to find strength from somewhere. We need to do the right thing. “You don’t want to be like him, remember? We are stronger than this.”

  Ky’s face contorts and for one horrendous, breath-stealing moment, I think he’s going to break down. I’m not sure I’m resilient enough to deal with that. At the last second, he pulls himself together. Stepping back, he creates some much-needed distance between us. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so fucking weak.”

  “You’re not, and I’m struggling too. You’re definitely not in this alone.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You were right earlier. We have to stay away from one another because we can’t give into our feelings.”

  His mournful eyes pierce mine. “I know.” He laughs drily. “You’ve brought everything to the surface again, Faye. After months of feeling dead inside, I feel everything. And that’s both wonderful and fucking awful at the same time.” Determination replaces the previous look on his face. “But I can do better and I will because that’s what you need. This won’t happen again.”

  “You’ll talk to your mom about Brad?”

  “Of course, and then I’ll speak to him. I’ll smooth things over, so don’t worry about that, okay.”

  I shoot him a small smile. “Thank you.” I turn to leave, but at the last second, I spin back around to face him. To hell with it. I may regret this, but I think I’ll regret it worse if I don’t say it now. “For the record, I love you too.” Then I race out of the room before he can acknowledge or respond to my statement in any way.

  As I sit in a chair in James’s study ten minutes later, with a strap around my arm and a needle in my vein, I’m not sorry that I told Ky I loved him. I know we may both pay for it later, but he needed to hear that from me. The doc has said it will take two weeks to receive the test results—even with James paying for a rush job—and I hope my profession of love helps him get through the period of separation. I’m going to cling to his love like a lifeboat, because it feels like the only thing that can keep me afloat in the difficult days ahead.

  Chapter Six

  James shows up at the house bright and early the next morning. Alex has already left for work. He introduces us to our personal bodyguards and gives us a lengthy lecture on the dangers of foregoing our protective detail. The mob at the gates has apparently doubled in size overnight, and James has warned us to expect tails. As if it isn’t bad enough that I have to be chauffeur-driven to the school door, now I’ll have a shadow too. Great.

  “I’ve spoken with Principal Carter,” James tells me, planting a large hand on my shoulder as he ushers me toward the front door. “She has approved the installation of additional security at the front gates which will keep the media off school grounds. Lenny here”—he motions toward the broad-shouldered man with the crew cut and sharp black suit waiting outside—“will escort you to and from the school property. I’d advise minimal excursions outside of school, and you should reconsider your job.”

  I swing a defiant look his way. “No way! I’m not giving up my job. Not if you expect me to hold onto my sanity. Lenny can stand guard outside Legends if it makes you feel any better.”

  James rolls his eyes. “I’d a feeling you might say that.” I scowl, and he raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Fine, fine! But if there are any issues, we will be discussing this more seriously, young lady.”

  All the small hairs lift on the back of my neck at the fatherly tone he’s adopting. I’m nowhere near ready to contemplate the implications of that. My face drops and James’s expression softens. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Try not to worry and come to me if you have difficulty with anything. I’m here for you.”

  The others hover in the background, watching the scene unfolding in front of them, and that makes me hugely self-conscious. Kent slants a vicious glance my way, and I sigh. As if he needs any other reason to hate me. He is still giving me the cold shoulder for breaking up his little sex party last week.

  I step toward Kal and enclose my arms around his stiff body. I’d called into his room last night to see how he was, but he was either asleep or avoiding me, and I didn’t want to push it. I’m so worried about him—he didn’t utter a word during breakfast, and he barely managed to eat either. “Good luck today.” I kiss his cheek. “Don’t forget we love you and we believe you. Ignore the assholes in school. Nothing they say matters, okay?”

  His arms tighten around my waist, and that’s the only type of response I get. As I shuck out of his embrace, I share a concerned look with Ky.

  “I’ll watch out for him,” he mouths.

  I’m lost in my head the entire journey to school, and I’m working hard to maintain a serene inner peace because I’m going to need it to get through this day. I don’t need an overactive imagination to visualize what’s lying in store for me. My fingers drum off the seat as my foot taps anxiously off the floor. Every so often, I spot Lenny looking at me from the passenger seat. If my fidgety behavior bothers him, he can screw off. He’s being paid enough, I’m sure.

  As Max eases the Merc around the bend and Wellesley Memorial High School appears in my line of vision, my stomach churns sourly, and I fear the contents of my breakfast may be about to make an unwelcome reappearance. I tap out a quick message to Brad to let him know I’m here as Max glides the car past three reporters lingering on the pavement outside the school. I duck my head down in time, grateful that I seem to have escaped the interest of the main news outlets. That doesn’t bode well for my cousins, though. I can only imagine the vultures awaiting them at Old Colonial.

  The front entrance is thronged with students hurrying into the building, and I cringe as Max brings the car to a hal
t directly in front of the steps. Could he be any more obvious? My innards twist into knots, and I genuinely think I’m going to be sick. This reminds me too much of those months when I used to dread going to school, contemplating what hideous torture Daniel and Vera were waiting to inflict on me.

  I can’t go back to that.

  I won’t go back to that.

  I’m stronger than this.

  With renewed determination, I slide out of the car and walk with my shoulders back and my head up toward Brad, ignoring the hushed whispers and pointed fingers. Brad is leaning against a pillar, smiling at my approach.

  “Hey, beautiful.” He slings his arm around my shoulders and smacks a loud kiss against my cheek. I lean back, staring at him in confusion. “Fake boyfriend, remember?” he whispers.

  I’d forgotten all about our little arrangement. Ky and Brad both felt it was a good idea for Brad to pretend to be my boyfriend to deflect some of the heat from Peyton and her cronies. I figure I need that insulation now more than ever, so I stretch up, snaking my arms around his neck as I press my mouth to his ear. “I do now. We should probably set some ground rules at lunch.” Noticing tons of inquisitive eyes, I grip his neck tighter with one hand and run my fingers through his hair with the other.

  He goes still. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

  He takes my hand and leads me into the corridor waiting by my locker as I gather the books I need.

  Brad plays the part of dutiful boyfriend to a T. Except I doubt there’s much performing involved. Brad is a natural—perfect boyfriend material—if only I swung that way.

  The morning flies by quite fast and rather uneventfully, apart from the odd snide comment hurled at me in the corridor in between classes. Lunchtime, however, is a whole other ballgame.

  Brad and I take our usual seats in the cafeteria, avoiding the hostile glares from the girls at the end of the table. “How’s she hanging, girlfriend?” Rose asks, giving me a quick one-armed hug as she claims a seat across from us.