Page 56 of Never Dance with the Devils
His brows jump together. “She saidI’msmart? You sure she wasn’t talking about Cameron or Carter or Cole or Chance? Maybe you’re confused. I’m Kyle, the one that starts with a K like she does,” he says, tapping his chest. “Definitely not the smart one of the bunch. Obviously.”
Glaring at him, I counter, “She said you wouldn’t tellyour parents what was going on with her because it would paint you in a bad light. She called it smart. I’d call it self-preservation.”
I hold my hands out like a scale weighing the two options, with one being particularly more likely, especially since showing up here, he’s mentioned that Kayla’s possibly blocked him, he’s the black sheep, he’s holding the match. Me, me, me.
I hate this asshole, and I don’t care if he is Kayla’s brother. Actually, I probably hate him more because of that. He’s part of the problem in her family, always expecting her to be a certain way and do a certain thing, regardless of her own needs and wants.
His eyes harden, and he grits out, “You don’t know shit.”
“You keep saying that, and maybe I don’t know everything,” I concede, “but the important thing here is that you know you fucked up, selfishly steamrolling over her in a vulnerable moment for—what’d you call it? Shits and gigs? And then throwing her to your brothers when she wasn’t ready for that and didn’t need the pressure you all put on her. That’s why you’re here, when you know she’s at work. You didn’t come to apologize for some pool business bullshit and you’re not here to make sure we can pass some made-up test that’ll show we’re good enough for her either. You’re here because you want help fixing the thing you broke.” Somewhere along my rant, my finger unconsciously found its way to his face and I find that I’m spitting facts while looming over him. He's stone-faced, taking every bit of the cruel truth I throw at him with a stoicism that must be a family trait because I’ve seen the same look on Kayla’s face.
He’s not the only smart one. I’ve got experience in dealing with fucked-up people and seeing through their noise to the motivations they try to hide. I drop my hand and lean back, getting out of his space to take a deep breath.
“We’re both ramped up for the same reason. We care about Kayla.” It’s as much of an apology as he’s going to get, so I hope he takes it. “Can you blame her for pulling a disappearing act and leaving you all to deal with the mess you made? You might not’ve meant to, but you screwed your sister over badly. Mind you, this is my first real impression of any of you, and I can’t say I’m impressed, but if you’re half the brother she thinks you are, you want to fix it. So, is she right about you, or am I?”
He drops his head, staring at his feet, almost panting, he’s so worked up. “Fuck,” he mutters, scratching his lip with his thumb. “Fuck!”
He turns, walking a few steps away, then spins on a work boot heel to walk back, pacing as he thinks and glaring at me with each loop.
After his third lap, he stops in front of me. “I didn’t mean for this to go so wrong. Kayla is always the one to have her shit together. She said she was figuring things out, but I could see it in her eyes—because God knows, that was the only place I was looking. There’s something between the three of you.” He looks me dead in the eye, his eyes full of conviction. “I don’t care about two, three, or ten people. I was happy for her, especially seeing the way she was with you and Brooks. She was all…” His eyes drift off like he’s searching his mind for the word, but he finally says, “I don’t know how to describe it, but she was different. She wasn’t the emotionally-distant, bitchy ice queen she usually is. And I mean that in a good way,” he rushes to explain. Ironically, I think Kayla would take that as a compliment.
Shaking his head, he adds, “I thought she’d get teased a little, then in true Kayla fashion, she’d tell us all to get fucked and to leave her alone about it. I never dreamed she’d ditch the family. I really screwed up this time and I don’t know how to fix it.”
Thank fuck, Kayla’s right about him. Kyle can fuck up, but he’s got a big, big heart. If she’d been wrong, we’d be taking this a whole different direction. “Try talking to her,” I suggest, stating the obvious. “It often works.”
His brows climb his forehead, and he looks amused for the first time. “She doesn’t call you smart, does she?”
“Definitely not,” I say with a laugh. “I’m the brawn, she’s the brains.”
“What’s that make Brooks?”
“The party.” That’s not exactly true. Maddox is so much more than that, but he’s carefully cultivated his image as a happy-go-lucky guy and likes to keep his caring, observant nature under wraps as a secret superpower. At least until he trusts you.
Kyle grins, accepting my answer. I can see his mind turning, like the little hamster is getting carried away in there. “You love her?”
“That’s a complicated question,” I say slowly, knowing I’m on ground about as stable as the surface of my pool right now. “The last time I was in love, it ended with me crying in the fetal position, in the dark, with a near-zero bank balance and PTSD.” The dark humor pops out unexpectedly, and where before, it’d come withbitterness, now it’s just the truth. Pieces of my past that got me to where I am now… with Kayla.
“It wasn’t a question,” Kyle says, a man who apparently knows without my answering. “You love her.”
It’s a boldly plain statement that forces me to examine the hauntingly and terrifyingly familiar feelings in my chest. With a nod, I admit, “I do.”
“She love you… and Brooks too?”
I have to think about that for a second, but in the end, I truthfully answer, “I don’t think she knows. Her last relationship didn’t end well either, so she’s not exactly a romantic.”
“Kayla had a relationship?” he blurts out, his eyes widening. “Like with a guy and not a spreadsheet? I didn’t think she ever really dated. She’s always work, work, work, work.” He sings the last bit, sounding like he’s aiming for Rihanna but ending up somewhere closer to a military marching chant that’s honestly more representative of Kayla’s work ethic.
“There’s a lot you don’t know. You should ask her sometime. I think she’d like to share more with you,” I tell him. “Maybe not Chance. He’s a stuck up prick. But you.”
He chuckles, saying, “Yeah, that’s his problem to figure out, but I think me and Kayla are overdue for some deeper conversations after I fix this.” He holds his hand out, and we shake the way I wish we could’ve at a first meeting with Kayla’s family. “Thanks for the tough love. You gonna tell her I was here?”
“Do I need to?”
“Nah, guess I’m going to Blue Lake now to take my lumps.” He gets a devilish glint in his eye. “Haven’tbeen there in years. Might be fun to roll in like this, the forgotten son with dirty work boots and a sweaty tank top, see what kind of shit I can start.”
Disappointed, I growl, “Have you learned nothing?”
“I won’t start anything major,” he argues, holding his finger and thumb a solid inch apart. “Just minor, no big deal, fun stuff. Kayla might have a reputation to uphold, but so do I.” He winks like ‘you get it, right?’
