58. Kieran
58
KIERAN
S ince the moment I got back here on Friday night, I haven’t stepped foot outside my apartment.
I’ve ignored anyone who’s come to the door. My cell died sometime on Saturday morning, and it’s remained the same way ever since.
I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to listen to anyone. And I certainly don’t want to discover anything that’s been posted on social media.
If there are more photos of them together, I don’t know how I’m going to react.
I want to say that time has given me perspective, and I guess, it has a little. But mostly, I’m still angry.
I know we weren’t technically together, and that Effie was free to go out with anyone she wanted. But Brax? My teammate? There are a million other men in this city she could have chosen.
I push myself harder on the bike.
Other than failing to sleep, and drink, hitting the gym is the only thing I’ve done all weekend.
My muscles are screaming at me to stop. But I can’t.
Working out is the only thing I can do to stop my mind from running at a million miles a minute.
I need the relief.
Seeing as I’ve run out of food, I’ve been forced to order in. I don’t want to face even a delivery guy, but I don’t have much choice in the matter.
It’s due any minute, and I have every intention of pushing myself until the buzzer rings.
The more miles I do, the higher the chance that I might get some sleep tonight.
Every time I lie in bed and close my eyes, the only thing I can see is them. Together. Her lips on his skin.
The image is haunting me. And my own imagination is kind enough to summon up pretty vivid pictures of where it could have gone next.
Them in her apartment…rolling around in her bed…
Would he treat her like glass, or would he give her what she really craves?
The buzzer rings, dragging me back to reality with a bump.
No sooner have my feet hit the floor than my knees buckle and I go crashing to the ground, the side of my head bouncing off the treadmill beside me.
“Fuck,” I grunt, lifting my hand to rub my temple.
I groan in irritation when blood covers my skin.
Fucking brilliant.
By the time I get to the door, it’s trickling down the side of my face.
Impatiently, I jab my finger against the button to let the delivery guy up before going to get a paper towel.
“Just leave it on the side,” I shout when I hear movement at my front door.
The door slams closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m alone once more.
Happy that I’m not at risk of bleeding out, I throw the towel in the trash and spin around to collect my dinner.
As I look up, my heart jumps into my throat and my breath catches.
“You motherfucker,” I sneer.
Brax shrugs. “You know as well as I do that sometimes, you’ve just got to play dirty.”
“I’ve been ignoring you for a reason,” I mutter, before reaching out and snatching my food from his hand.
I march to the kitchen and pull the containers out while he watches me.
“You can leave now you’ve made your delivery.”
“Not a fucking chance. We need to talk.” He frowns. “You’re bleeding.”
“How is my best friend? I assume you’ve spent all weekend fucking her.” The words are bitter as they leave my lips, but I can’t hold them back.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” he states before pulling out one of my kitchen stools. And as if that isn’t bad enough, he then reaches out and steals one of my spring rolls.
“Haven’t you taken enough?” I bark.
“I haven’t taken fuck all, and you know it. And yeah, as it happens, I have seen Effie this weekend. She’s a fucking mess, in case you were wondering.”
I shake my head.
“Oh, can I?—”
“Fuck off,” I bark, slapping his hand away when he reaches for more of my food.
“Touchy,” he mutters.
“I really fucking hope your eye hurts.”
“Even if it did, I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of telling the truth.”
“I’m not in the mood for this.”
“Well, that sucks for you, because this is happening.”
“Wonderful,” I breathe before pushing a forkful of egg-fried rice into my mouth.
“Kieran, you’re a fucking idiot. Do you really think me and Effie have been fucking around behind your back?”
I keep eating, refusing to give him an answer.
“She fucking loves you, man. You,” he repeats, just to make sure I heard him. “Even if she was out dating someone, they’d never measure up to you.”
I shake my head, refusing to hear it.
“You two are as bad as each other. Both of you need to put your stubbornness and fears aside and just fucking go for it.”
We fall silent and he watches me eat, thankfully not attempting to steal anything else.
Finally, I lower my fork and stare him dead in the eyes.
“You’re really not fucking her?”
The motherfucker laughs. Right in my fucking face.
“No, Kieran. I’m not fucking Effie. I’ve never fucked Effie, nor will I ever.She’s your girl.”
“She looked like yours the other night.”
“It’s just the fucking media. We went out for dinner after…after work, and she had a couple of cocktails. We were just joking around.
“She was so fucking excited to see you. She was giddy with it.You were all she could talk about.”
My heart slams against my ribs as I absorb what he’s saying.
All the things I said to her Friday night come back to me, and I want to punch myself in the face.
I was a jerk. No, I was worse than that.
Fuck.
She really doesn’t deserve a fuck-up like me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, making Brax’s brows shoot up.
“I appreciate it, bro. But I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”
“She’ll never forgive me for Friday night.”
“She probably shouldn’t. But I think you might be pleasantly surprised.”
B rax stayed for an hour berating me for my life choices.
He’d probably tell you that he was being a good friend—a better one than I deserved—and steering me in the right direction.
But it’s safe to say that by the time he left, I was feeling pretty shitty about myself.
Deep down, maybe I did know that it was all media bullshit.
But sitting in Jamie’s car, obsessing over every inch of those photographs, did something to me. It fed into every single one of my insecurities, my fears, and they took hold.
It might have taken me a lot of years to come to my senses, but I love Effie. I’m pretty sure I always have, and I know that I always will.
But the thought of us getting together, finally exploring this other side to our relationship that is so fucking awesome, only to lose it down the line…it would kill me.
Being friends is safe. Sure, we can have our disagreements and bicker about stupid things, but we’d never fall out to a point where we’d part ways.
As a couple, it could happen.
Hell, it does happen.
Across the country, thousands of couples split every single day. They tear their worlds in two and divide everything they’ve built together.
I refuse to be in that position with Effie.
But what if that didn’t happen?
What if we could find a way to be the best friends that we’ve always been and more?
Is it possible? Or will we be putting ourselves on a journey to destruction?
Driving back into Chicago, I let that fear take over.
In her apartment, I allowed it to fuel me and the words spilling from my lips.
I regret every single one of them.
She’d have every right never to forgive me.
But I’m going to try my hardest to get her to.
I’ve just finished showering when my buzzer rings again.
My heart immediately jumps into my throat.
Could it be her?
It’s wishful thinking, I know.
I race toward the front door and turn the camera on. I’m not being blindsided by my visitor this time.
The second the screen comes to life, a laugh breaks free.
“Hello, Uncle Kieran. Can we come up?”
It might be Kingston’s voice that hits my ears, but all I can see on the screen is Prince.
“You can. Not sure about your daddy, though.”
“Bad luck, Bro. Guess you’re waiting out here,” Kian says with a laugh.
Unable to turn down my cute nephew, I let them in and open my door.
In only a few short minutes, they’re stepping inside.
“Aw, who’s the cutest little boy in the world?” I sing, immediately diving for Prince, who’s smiling up at me from his pushchair. “Isn’t it a little late for a walk?”
“He won’t sleep,” King complains.
When I look up, I see the evidence of that fact written all over his face.
“We sent Lori and Tate for an evening session at the spa,” Kian explains.
“And how is that going?” I muse, unable to contain my smirk as I bounce Prince on my hip.
“Wonderful,” Kingston grumps.
“It’s been pretty fun…for me. First, Prince pissed all over his dad. Then he refused point blank to eat his pureed avocado and instead sprayed it in his dad’s face. And now, he won’t sleep. I’ve never seen Kingston so close to losing his shit. Ever.”
My smirk grows as I picture all of this happening.
“You’re trying to feed your kid pureed avocado?” I ask, although it’s no surprise really.
“He loves it when Tatum gives it to him.”
“She probably laces it with something that tastes good,” Kian says before I have a chance.
“Did Effie do that?” Kingston says, suddenly changing the subject as he nods toward the cut on my temple.
“Very funny,” I mutter, although I refrain from telling them the truth. It would probably be less mortifying to admit that Effie was responsible. “You want beers?”
“Why else do you think we’re here?” Kian says, getting comfortable on my couch.
“Assholes.”
“Hey, language,” Kingston complains.
“Dude, he’s a baby.”
“Yeah, and when his first word is asshole, I’ll know who to blame.”
Rolling my eyes, I place Prince in Kian’s lap as I pass him in favor of the kitchen.
My apartment is the opposite of baby-proof, and every time he’s here, I freak out that he’s going hurt himself and it’ll be all my fault.
After handing out beers, I grab my boy back and sit with him on the floor.
Kingston passes me his bag, and I grab a few toys to entertain him with.
My skin prickles with both of my older brothers’ attention on me.
Questions are coming. It’s just a matter of how long they make me wait.
“Have you spoken to Effie?” Kingston eventually asks.
“Not since Friday night, no. Why?”
“Do you really think we’re that stupid?” Kian asks, sitting forward and resting his elbows on his knees, concern filling his eyes.