The Rebel's Own (Crimson Romance) (8 page)

He walked over to the bed now and picked Riley up. It amazed him how the child trustingly wrapped both his tiny hands and feet around him, after only a few days of knowing him. He took Kennedy’s hand and tugged her behind him to his room and laid-down on his king-sized bed.
His
, because Kennedy had been sleeping in the guest room. But the peace lasted only for a minute before Riley was up again, trying to climb over his mother to get to the bathroom. But the boy’s feet hadn’t touched the ground before he was emptying his stomach.

“It’s okay. I’ve got it,” Ryan said to Kennedy when she rose. “You should probably go get some sleep in your room. We’ll join you after I clean up.”
Your room, my room.
Ryan couldn’t get over the fact that Kennedy was still wary of him. She didn’t trust him with her heart or her body. They kept their distance, only talking when they had to, usually about Riley. But they were civil with each other, interacting as acquaintances if not as two people who had made love or had children together. He was just glad she hadn’t drawn up a timetable for his spending time with Riley. Ryan had quickly gotten accustomed to having a family, and he wouldn’t relish being told when or where he had to spend time with his son.

As Ryan did the laundry, he marveled at the turns his life had taken. He never expected to be here. He had a family and the Rebels had won the AFC East division championships and were headed to the Super Bowl, which was just three days away. In an extremely lucky turn of events, the big game was being held here in Boston this year, so Ryan didn’t have to travel. There was still the dark cloud of his son’s sickness, but Riley was done with the chemo finally and the bone marrow transplant would happen next week. His son would be getting better. With surprise, Ryan realized that for the first time in a long time, he was happy.

• • •

“Clara is at it again.” Matt dropped a tabloid on Ryan’s breakfast table.

“I don’t care.” Ryan’s body was turned towards Riley, trying to sweet talk his son into taking a bite of his breakfast. Riley needed to get his strength up before the doctor could clear him for the procedure. The boy was being stubborn though, so Ryan quickly found himself resorting to bribery. “How about a dirt bike for your birthday?” Riley’s eyes lit up for a second but then gazed at him in suspicion. But after a minute of consideration, his son took a bite of his toast.

After promising him a gift with each bite, Ryan detected weariness in the droop of his little shoulders, so he cradled Riley in his arms, rubbed his back and hoped he would fall asleep. “He was up all night.”

“He’s still getting sick?” Matt asked, with a discouraged sigh.

“Yeah. But in three days, it’s going to be over. The chemo will be done, and then the transplant happens, and he will soon get better,” Ryan said, attempting to encourage himself.

Matt nodded, his eyes already straying back to the magazine on the table. “You don’t want to know what Clara did this time.”

Ryan shook his head. He already knew what the little bitch was capable of. She had not only somehow gotten her hands on and released the elevator sex tape and the picture of Matt giving Kennedy money, but she’d been running her mouth to the tabloids, accused him of having many other affairs and lovers. He had ceased caring about what she was doing or planning on doing.

“I do,” Kennedy said as she walked into the kitchen, exhaustion etched on her features. She looked at their son. “He’s asleep.”

“That’s good; you should also get some sleep,” Ryan said, as his hand halted its work.

“I’m fine. In fact, you shouldn’t have let me sleep that long.”

“You need your rest, especially since you are going to have him on your own for the afternoon,” he whispered.

“My mom is coming over. I was wondering if she could come and stay for a while, with the game coming up. She could help and you could get a full night’s rest.” Kennedy didn’t sound sure and that only enforced the fear that Ryan felt.

“I know we only got married in a little chapel in Vegas, but this house is half yours. You can do whatever you want,” Ryan said as he quickly retreated to avoid the usual argument that followed.

He knew it by heart by now and waited for Kennedy to follow him, only to tell him that their marriage was just temporary, that she was leaving with both children once Riley was better. He waited for her to tell him that they were from different worlds that they didn’t fit together. The comment that usually ended the conversation was that he was trying to be something he wasn’t. A caring, loving, and responsible husband and father he was not. He was Ryan Carville, the high school boy who had done whatever Clara and the football team had told him to do, and his weakness had ruined her life.

• • •

Kennedy stood there staring at Ryan’s strong back, Riley’s tiny hands hanging loosely from his shoulders, as he walked away. She thought back to the impulsive decision she had made, the consequences of which she was living through today. Time was moving so quickly. It felt like one minute they’d been standing before an Elvis impersonator saying “I Do” and the next they were in
his
kitchen having breakfast.

“Getting married was for the best,” Matt said suddenly, as if he could read her mind.

Somehow Ryan’s best friend had become their biggest cheerleader. He’d said the same thing a week and a half ago when he’d had a team of movers pack up Kennedy and her family to move them in to Ryan’s. And again last week when they changed Riley’s last name to Carville and she hyphenated her own.

Maybe that’s what she would say to Ryan when she left his house with his children. “It’s for the best.”

She sighed and changed the subject. She could use someone to talk to, but no matter how supportive Matt was being now, he was Ryan’s friend, not hers. If she spilled her worries and misgivings to him, he’d probably just turn around and relay them to his best friend. “Tell me what Clara did.”

“When she saw our press release about the marriage and the story of you two being teenage sweethearts, she said it was a lie. And, uh, she also told the press about… about…” Matt hesitated and she knew what he was struggling to say.

“She told the press about the United Tastes game and the prom sacrifice,” she quickly filled in. There had to be more though. “Then what?”

“She said that Riley wasn’t Ryan’s and that you were loose in high school, and that the father of your child could be anyone.”

What Kennedy just heard fuddled her mind. She needed a few minutes to gather her thoughts. “Are we going to release some kind of a response?” All this politicking and publicity was so new to her, but she was quickly becoming accustomed to the kind of madness that a little celebrity caused.

“Right now, the team management wants Ryan to keep quiet. When the championship is over, you can deal with it however you want to.”

“My life seems centered around his football,” she groaned.

“While mine is centered on you and my children.”

Kennedy turned around to find Ryan behind her, shadows looming over his face. He skimmed his eyes over her, obviously wanting to say something but biting his tongue. She stared back at him and felt her stomach dance with nerves. She felt guilty. Parts of this were new to Ryan, too, but he was trying to be the best father—and husband—he could.

“I put him down in the spare bedroom. The cleaners are going to come by in about an hour. He barely ate his breakfast so you might want to give him something when he wakes up,” Ryan barked out his orders and walked out.

Normally Kennedy would have a retort of her own, but the guilt weighed heavily on her heart. She swiped at the tears now rolling down her cheeks. “Damn hormones.”

But she had been crying ever since she found out Riley was sick. It had only gotten worse when she found out she was pregnant. She was touched that Ryan would offer her a sympathetic shoulder, but she couldn’t let herself get too close. Ryan was a danger to her. The bumpy jerks her heart made when he was near her, the way her skin tingled when he touched her, and how she missed him when he went to practice was terrifying. She felt emotions for him that she hadn’t felt—hadn’t had time to feel—when they were teenagers. Hell, she’d barely known him. That was only infatuation, but now, seeing him trying so hard to help their son, she was in danger of falling in love with him.

Kennedy watched him as he moved about the room, picking up the breakfast dishes and straightening it out. The urge to reach out and touch him was compelling, but she couldn’t let herself succumb to her heart. She had to protect herself and her children. Kennedy didn’t want to go back to the dark hole she was in when Ryan left her the first time. She made up her mind not to love him and hoped that her heart wouldn’t put up much of a fight.

Kennedy ran to get the door as the knocking turned into pounding. Between the pregnancy and Riley’s late nights, she could feel her body beginning to shut down. A whirlwind of events was converging on her house; it was a day to the championship and two days to Riley’s last chemotherapy appointment. Both the men in her life were excited, and Kennedy was just counting the seconds to it being over. Kennedy had to stop and catch her breath, unwilling to face the guest on the other side of the door, flustered and out of breathe. But as soon as she opened the door she wished she hadn’t.

Clara sauntered into the house, her eyes roaming everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Kennedy bit back the insult at the tip of her tongue when she watched Clara inspect her house through narrowed eyes.

“Clara, what do you want?” Kennedy looked nervously towards the stairs, afraid that her son would wake up from his nap.

“You know he bought this house for me, right?”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house now. Please feel free to leave.” Kennedy opened the door wider, her hands signaling for Clara to exit through it. But the woman didn’t take the hint.

“He’s not going to stay with you. As soon as your brat is better, he’s going to leave you,” she taunted. “We both know you only got married for the insurance. Ryan loves me, not you.”

Kennedy sighed, thoroughly exhausted. “I’m happy for you. The second Ryan and I get a divorce, I’m sure he’ll give you a call.” She bit back the steely barb waiting on her tongue. She didn’t want to aggravate Clara anymore than she already was. An octave higher, and the woman’s shrill voice would be waking Riley up.

“You are so pathetic,” Clara spat out her hate. “You were desperate back in high school, and you are desperate now. Just because you lost some weight and got rid of the ugly braces, you think he’s going to love you. You are nothing and you will always be nothing. He loves me! Not you, me!”

Clara cheeks were slowly turning crimson. Kennedy watched, half expecting to see smoke blowing out of her ears, horns growing out of her head, and a pitch fork suddenly appearing in her hands. She waited, hoping that all that hate might actually cause Clara to spontaneously combust.

“Why are you here?”

Kennedy turned and saw Ryan’s massive body filling the living room entryway. She released the front door and stepped back into the small foyer, and watched as the scene unfolded before her.

“I came to see you.” The hate in Clara’s voice had disappeared and was replaced by a feathery child-like tone. “I know tomorrow is your big day. Your first Super Bowl! I bet your fake wife didn’t know that.”

Kennedy wanted to dispute that. She had been media stalking Ryan since his Hail Mary play won the Rose Bowl for Oregon back in his first year of college. But she wasn’t going to confess that, because then she might have to admit that she had dreamed of him every night, cried herself to sleep over him, and woke with Ryan as the first thought on her mind each day of the past five years.

Kennedy watched as Ryan stretched out his hand to her. Cautiously, she took it, and gasped when he pulled her into his side. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, then a kiss on the lips, and rested his hand on her belly.

“How is my little girl doing?” he murmured into her ear.

“Uhmmm… fine,” she said, confused. It was way too soon to know the baby’s sex yet, but she’d play along. Kennedy watched as Clara’s eyes grew wide then reduced to slits. Ryan was completely ignoring Clara.

“And my little boy?”

“He’s taking a nap. He had a rough morning.” When Kennedy saw the flash of concern in Ryan’s eyes, she knew it was genuine, and for a second, as he looked towards the stairs, it was like his mind had left the room.

“I got jerseys for the both of you.”

Kennedy watched as Ryan pulled out two bright red jerseys from his gym bag. He held them up so she could see that on the back they read “Carville” with his number six below. Lost for the appropriate words she mumbled, “Thanks.”

“What about mine?” Clara chirped up.

Her husband finally turned his attention back to the other woman, scowling. “Why are you here?”

• • •

Ryan felt the blood boil and rush through his veins as the rage built inside him. He already knew he was going to have a tough day at home. He didn’t need this on top of everything else.

“You need to leave Clara,” he barked.

“Ryan, lower your voice,” Kennedy hushed him. “Riley is still asleep.”

Ryan bit back his retort and focused his anger on the intruder. “Clara, please, I am exhausted. My son is going to be up in a few minutes. I want to lie down before that happens.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be
playing house
.”

Ryan watched as Clara sashayed towards him, her hands reaching out and smoothing over his chest. He was about to shove her away when he heard Kennedy snort. A sly grin crept over his face as Kennedy’s irritated look as jealousy began to rear its ugly head. Well, good. He was glad she was jealous. At this point, he would do anything to get a sliver of emotion from Kennedy.

“I am a husband and a father to two children. I’m not playing house.” Ryan grabbed Clara’s hands and pushed them back. “This is my life now, and I love my life.”

“I know you bought this house for me. This was supposed to be our life—you the football star and me, the wife of a football star.”