Benath the Surface (Reluctance #1) Page 15

  “Why would he need that much money?” Clara asked, her concern loud and clear.

  “We both know the answer to that now. A drug habit like his has to be expensive. I’m just so fucking ashamed we all missed the signs, Clara. Every damn one of them. I did. I’m not too proud to admit that. I’d all but given up on him. Over the last few months our relationship had gotten even worse, and I could barely stand to be in the same room with him without wanting to punch him. I still held the hope that he’d wake up and see the mess he was creating, but he continued to fuck things up at work, leaving me to pick up the pieces. I was his surrogate father for too long, so I drew the line.” He inhaled sharply. “So I get why I missed the signs, but what is everyone else’s excuse? Everyone ignored him. Not just me. We wrote him off as a complete fuckup. Everyone except Dale.”

  Clara turned in her chair to face him at the mention of Dale’s name, and she smiled. “She seems very nice, Kyran.”

  “And?”

  Her light laughter filled the waiting room. Kyran rubbed his temples, the throb growing worse. He never ran from a problem, he usually chose to face it head on, but today he yearned to do just that, yearned to hide inside the four walls of Metro.

  “And . . . I saw the two of you when I entered the room. I saw you kiss her.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Not at all.” Clara delved into her large purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I like her. I want you to know that.”

  Kyran pushed off the chair and began to pace the room again. “Why are we having this conversation now?”

  “Because I didn’t know about the two of you until today.” Clara swept her finger across the screen of her phone. She always seemed to annoy him with her short attention span.

  “There is no us when it comes to Dale and me. She’s Taylor’s assistant. That’s all.”

  “Liar.” Clara shook her head. “You should invite her to the benefit. It would be lovely to see you with someone. It’s been a long time since you used your plus one.”

  “Move on, Clara. This topic of conversation is getting very old, very fast. As for the benefit, well I’d much rather figure out Taylor’s problem than plan what I’m wearing to a benefit.”

  Clara held up her finger to Kyran to wait and placed her cell to her ear. He was about to leave the room when she began to speak.

  “Kyran’s here. Taylor is out of danger, Jacob. I think you should come and see him. He’ll need your support.”

  Kyran wished he could hear his father’s side of the conversation.

  “It’s not fair to leave this for Kyran to deal with. There’s going to be a lot of decisions to make, and we should do it as a family.”

  Dale came back from getting coffee and stood in the doorway. Kyran placed his finger to his lips when she began to talk.

  “Jacob, Taylor will need therapy of some kind, along with detox, I assume.” She raised her voice. “You cannot ignore this. You’re their father!”

  Dale beckoned Kyran over and handed him a cup. “Coffee. Not fabulous, but it’ll do.” She cocked her head toward Clara. “What’s up with her?”

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “Arguing with my father. From what I can gather, he thinks he doesn’t need to be here or help with Taylor’s recovery.”

  “Rather harsh.”

  “Yeah.” He placed his hand on her elbow and led her down the hall and out the door. The cold weather slapped him in the face, his skin breaking out in goose bumps. An intense shiver racked his body, causing his coffee to slosh over the brim of the cup. Kyran led Dale around the corner of the building and set his cup on the ground.

  Dale leaned back against the wall, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. He placed his hands flat on the bricks on either side of her head and leaned in. With their bodies pressed against each other, it warmed his bones and calmed his anger. One of them exhaled softly, though he didn’t know whether it came from his mouth or Dale’s.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” he said, his throat raw.

  “If I get thanks like that every time, I’ll buy you coffee every day.”

  “Deal.” Kyran moved within a millimeter of Dale’s lips. “And thanks for staying with me—for being here. I don’t lean on anyone, Dale.”

  “You’re leaning on me.” She pushed her hips forward to prove her point.

  “You know I don’t mean physically . . . even though that’s good, too.”

  “I know, but you don’t have to thank me. I care about both of you. Seeing Taylor like that scared me as much as it did you. I’m here for you, and I’m here because I want to know he’s going to be okay.”

  Kyran pecked her lips with a quick kiss. “Worried about your job?” He kissed her again.

  “You’re a real comedian, Ky.”

  Kyran found the situation far from amusing. He needed Dale. She could make him forget his life for just one moment. “Kiss me, Dale. Kiss me and make me forget everything. The hospital, my father, Taylor . . . but most of all, kiss me until I know what’s going on with us.”

  She didn’t speak again, instead she did as he asked and kissed him. Dale made Kyran feel far more than he’d felt from any kiss in his whole life.

  Chapter 17

  Having been at the hospital for the last twenty-four hours, Kyran was exhausted. The minimal naps on the crappy chair in Taylor’s room did little to alleviate his aching back. It would have been nice to be able go home and shower, but Clara hadn’t returned after her short visit, and his father hadn’t made an appearance at all.

  He should be surprised by it, but after years of dealing with his father’s shit, Kyran was now at a hostile level of acceptance. He didn’t like it, but since no one else was going to deal with it, he had to. Sometimes he wondered if his father’s love for his sons had died when his wife did. From that day forward, they had been left with only each other.

  Dale had stayed, but when she started snoring on his shoulder, he’d sent her home to bed. He wished he could have followed her.

  The nurse came into the room a few times to check Taylor’s vitals. She must have felt sorry for him because each time she entered she had brought Kyran a coffee. The stuff was disgusting. In fact, he was fairly sure the sludge had never seen a coffee bean, let alone been made from one, but it did the job. It gave him the jitters, but he could still function.

  About four hours earlier, the doctor had advised him that Taylor’s medication had been lowered. There was no reason for him to remain unconscious. So Kyran waited.

  He stared at his brother as he lay in the bed, his skin almost as white as the hospital sheets. Large dark circles rested underneath Taylor’s eyes, and his cheekbones were more prominent than he recalled.

  Kyran racked his brain, trying to pinpoint the moment his brother had changed or when he realized that things were not right with him. However, their relationship had never been perfect, so finding the exact moment it started to deteriorate was almost impossible. Taylor resented Kyran because he’d been the one to parent his younger brother. But what choice did he have when no one else would? Taylor was angry at the world, but his anger had taken a nasty turn.

  At the moment, Kyran longed for nothing more than to be able to turn the clock back and see that pivotal point—the one where Taylor changed from an angry kid needing his father’s affection to an adult who hated life so much he chose drugs to escape. His father had a hand in this. He should be there, helping Taylor and working on fixing the mistakes of their past. But once again, his father was absent, and Kyran had no choice but to take his place. Resentment rested heavy on his shoulders.

  A few hours earlier, Kyran had looked through Taylor’s clothes, desperate to find something that would answer one of his many questions. His search had been pointless, and he grew increasingly frustrated. He’d searched through the contacts in his brother’s cell, although the lack of any numbers with the title drug dealer left him at a complete loss.

  Kyran snorted at himself, feeling somewhat stupid for
even thinking Taylor would list his dealer in such an obvious way.

  “I can’t see what’s so amusing,” his brother croaked out, groaning when he tried to move.

  Kyran jumped up and eyed him from head to toe. He reached his hand out to his brother’s but stopped, not able to touch him or make that connection yet. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Taylor rubbed his temple. “Fuck, I feel like I’ve done ten rounds with you at the club.”

  “That bad, huh?” Kyran paused, comprehending what Taylor had said. “Wait. You know about that?”

  Taylor nodded then winced at the stretch in his neck muscles. “We all have our secrets, man. You just haven’t hidden yours as well as I have, I guess.”

  Deciding to shelve the conversation about his boxing, Kyran sat back down. “Why?”

  Taylor lowered his eyes as he tried to swallow. “Can I get some water?”

  “If you’ll talk to me, sure.”

  “You’re holding the water hostage? That’s low.”

  Kyran poured the cool water into a clear, plastic cup and held his brother’s head as he took a series of small sips. It was probably the nicest thing he’d done for him since they were kids, and that thought made him rather sad.

  “I don’t know how to explain it so that you’ll all understand,” Taylor said after pulling his lips away from the cup.

  “Well, you’re going to have to try. This is one hell of a fuckup, Taylor.” Kyran fought to keep his tone low and calm.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “A while. Scared the shit out of Dale.” Kyran inhaled and ran his hand over his head. “She found you. She fucking found you on the floor and thought you were dead. What the hell were you doing?”

  Taylor closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths before pressing the button on the bed to elevate the back of it. “No matter what I say, it’ll be wrong. No one will understand my reasons.”

  Kyran raised his voice and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up. “I don’t know what your reasons are! So how can you decide what I wouldn’t understand? I’m not going let you keep dodging the bullet. We all knew you drank. We all knew it was too much, and every damn one of us assumed your issues were liquor based. How in the hell did you function every day? How much shit did you snort up your nose? Talk.”

  “Not much to say.” Taylor shrugged. “I tried it once at a party about five years ago. I liked the buzz, so I took it again every once in a while.”

  “Owing someone fifteen thousand isn’t ‘every once in a while.’ Don’t fucking lie to me.”

  “Okay, so it was a little more than that. The money sort of got out of hand, though. I had no idea it had clocked up to that. A phone call here, a delivery there, and wham, I owe the guy fifteen grand. How is that even possible?”

  “Don’t fucking ask me! Why don’t you have enough to cover it? Why did you need to go begging to Clara?”

  Taylor winced. “Like I said before, a few phone calls and deliveries left me a little short.”

  Kyran was starting to lose his temper. “That’s it? That’s your explanation?” He held Taylor’s chin between his thumb and index finger and squeezed until his brother gave in and faced him.

  “Dude, you’re hurting me.”

  “Dude, I don’t care.”

  “Yeah, I get that.” Taylor tore his chin away. He held his head in his hands as he cursed and moaned.

  “You get what? That I’m pissed off with the way you behave? That I’m tired of doing all the work? Or that I just don’t understand why you snort that shit? Which is it?”

  Kyran felt like he was about to explode. No matter how much he tried to talk himself down, it didn’t work. Taylor would always have the ability to light his fuse.

  “I get that I disappoint you all. Every fucking one of you!” Taylor’s voice broke, but he didn’t stop. “But no matter what I do, it’s wrong. You took Dad’s side over mine when it came to the Landry project. You sided with Clara over the investment I brought to the business, and you stand there shoving your guilt onto me? You’re pissed at yourself because you didn’t care. I come to work out of my goddamned mind most days, and it’s okay with you as long as it was alcohol? You’re good with me being a drunk but not a junkie? Do you know how fucked up that is? Christ, you all believed Tori! She lied, and you accepted her bullshit as truth, never even asking for my side of things. I’m not gonna lie, I touched her but she gave me the okay. I’m not a fucking moron. I know what yes means. So, that’s what I get, dear brother.”

  Taylor’s doctor entered the room. “Can I ask what all the shouting is about?” He looked from Kyran to Taylor and back. Taylor began to cough and reached for the water but missed and knocked the cup to the floor. The doctor rushed to pick it up and pressed the buzzer to alert a nurse. “Well?”

  “Family stuff,” the brothers said in unison.

  “I see.” The doctor pursed his lips and shot Kyran a sharp look. “I suggest the conversation be left for another time. Your brother remains in serious condition, and elevating his heart rate is not a good idea until we’ve conducted more tests.”

  The nurse came in, filled a new cup with water, and helped Taylor drink it. Kyran rubbed his bare forearms, ignoring the nurse’s raised brow as she noticed his tattoos. He hadn’t felt warm since before Dale had discovered Taylor at the office. The chill of dread would not leave him.

  “I think you should go home and get some rest. Your presence here is not helping your brother’s recovery.”

  Kyran nodded, turning back to his brother when the nurse left. “Don’t think I’m about to ignore the disaster you made with the Dolteen contract either. Dale told me.”

  “She would,” Taylor said, his top lip curling.

  “Don’t you fucking dare say anything about her.” He walked toward the door, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “You need to give me the details on the guy you owe money to. I’ll sort it out, but once again, you owe me.”

  “And I bet you’re keeping track.”

  If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Kyran would have argued with his brother. However, he was weary and in need of food and a shower. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  Taylor didn’t respond.

  But his words stuck with Kyran as he drove, and each accusation hit him hard. The more he thought about each point Taylor had made, the more confused he became. Kyran tried to recall the exact details of the Landry project and why he’d sided with their father. He also tried to focus on what had happened with Tori, questioning every aspect of the situation as he remembered it.

  Kyran’s intention had been to go home and sleep, to block the last twenty-four hours out of his mind. He drove without thinking until he parked on an unfamiliar street. Kyran looked up at the windows of the apartments.

  Dale had left the light on.

  The knock at her front door wasn’t a complete surprise; Dale had expected it and didn’t need to ask who it was. She had felt Kyran even though she had been sleeping when the first knock woke her.

  Walking to the door, Dale tried to tidy her sleep-ravaged hair by combing her fingers through the knots and tangles. She checked her appearance in the hallway mirror. The knocking became more insistent, and Dale decided she didn’t have time to change out of her shorts and tank top. If she didn’t answer the door soon, Kyran would wake her neighbors.

  It felt weird having him come here, to her home. They had always gone to his place or the club. Her apartment wasn’t large or luxurious, and the view was of the brick wall belonging to the next building. She had mold, problems with the water, and the furnace never worked for more than twenty minutes. Nevertheless, it was home. Her home.

  Opening the door, Dale melted at the sight of him. Tired, upset, and in need of comfort. “Hey,” she said in greeting.

  Kyran took a step forward and wrapped his arm around Dale’s waist and pulled her body against his. He buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry to come by so late. I didn’t know where else to
go. I—”

  “Shush.” She shuffled them back into her apartment without letting go of him. “There’s no need to explain yourself to me. I get it, Ky.”

  He kissed her cheek, her forehead, and then the very tip of her nose. “Thank you.”

  He looked drained, and his eyes were bloodshot, as though he’d been crying. Dale wanted to ask if he had but worried about his reaction. She shifted from his embrace and walked over to her small kitchen to make coffee. Dale left him to wander around her tiny living space. Kyran seemed to take special interest in checking out her pictures and knickknacks.

  When she turned to hand him a cup, she noticed he’d moved to the couch. Kyran was seated and resting his head on the cushions with his eyes closed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  Dale stood in front of him, holding out the steaming mug. “Ky.”

  Kyran opened his green eyes and focused on her but gave nothing away. She didn’t know what to do to make it better for him—to ease his heartache.

  He saved her from such turmoil by crooking his finger at her. Without a second thought, she moved closer.

  “My lap, baby.”

  He’d called her baby once before, but Dale was certain he’d been unaware of the slip. Once again, she let it slide. Kyran sounded too tired to talk even if she were to raise the subject. So she did as he asked and climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips.

  “Kiss me,” Kyran said.

  “You need some rest and—”

  “Kiss me, Dale. Please.”

  Hearing the desperation in his voice, Dale lost her mind and brought her lips to his. She kissed him with everything she had—tender and slow, loving yet seductive. Kyran didn’t try to change it. He went right along with it, tilting his head further to the left so they could make the kiss deeper.

  Lust raged through her body; the bone-deep need to soothe him overrode everything. Trailing her fingers down his neck, she felt the coarse stubble of his beard against her skin.