Page 8 of The Last Key
Gladys Tipton is the innkeeper at Brighton Manor and has been for most of my life. She’s in her midfifties, sweet and motherly, and always brings baked goods to work. She’s like a second mother to me, and I wouldn’t be able to run the place without her.
I moved back to Brighton a few years ago to take over Brighton Manor operations from my parents after my dad was diagnosed with MS. My mother has been dealing with rheumatoid arthritis for half of my life, so with my dad’s diagnosis, anything more than living became too much for them. My parents are only in their midfifties, so it’s hard to see them struggle like this so soon.
Since getting up and down the stairs of this house was tough for both of them, I bought the place—for much less than they should’ve sold it to me—and they moved into an apartment building in downtown Brighton with an elevator and a concierge service.
When I packed up and moved back here, I was a son doing his duty. I love my parents, they’re incredible people, and as their only son, I wasn’t going to leave them alone to deal with this. That doesn’t mean I was excited about it.
I’d spent the previous years living in Chicago and New York with Kennedy and our friend Justin, and we’d had a lot of fun. While I was tired of modeling, it got me through my college years. As I grew older, it began feeling like an invasion of my privacy. Social media was taking over my life. I didn’t like it, but I was still loving my life in the city with my best friends. I’d accepted a job asa modeling agent, putting the business degree I’d earned in college to use. I traveled when I could, and was, as they say, living my best life.
Then it all changed. I thought I’d go crazy living in Brighton, and don’t get me wrong, life is slower here than in a big city, but not as slow as I thought it would be. I was surprised I didn’t feel any resentment and settled in here easily. With San Francisco nearby, I have access to everything I could want or need. Minus one thing. Kennedy.
Yep, that’s me. The sad sack who’s hung up on his best friend, despite the fact she has never been interested in having more with me. As far as I know, at least. For a moment, when we were young, I thought it might happen, but she shut me down before I could even kiss her, and since then, nothing romantic has ever happened. We’re close. Maybe even more affectionate than two best friends should be—we cuddle and sometimes share the same bed, but never once have we inappropriately touched each other or even kissed.
God, what I wouldn’t give to taste those plush pink lips. Other parts of her, too. Bury myself deep inside her until she’s screaming my name.
At that thought, my cock comes alive.
Sorry, buddy. Still our little fantasy.
My phone buzzes on the counter, making me jump.
It’s a fantasy I need to let go of, though, if I’m ever going to fall in love, get married, have kids—all things I want someday.
Flipping my phone screen on, I see a text.From Kennedy.
Does she have a sixth sense?
Kennedy: Any chance you’re awake?
I smile and type a reply.
Me: Yep. Couldn’t sleep. What are you doing?
I get an immediate text back.
Kennedy: Standing on your front porch.
Me: Very funny.
I shake my head and set my phone back on the counter, but as soon as I do, there’s a knock on the front door.
No fucking way.
Heart pounding, I launch off the stool and run to the front door, unlocking it and throwing it open to see Kennedy’s beautiful face.
“Hi,” she says, wearing a huge smile.
“Get in here.”
I shut the door behind her as she steps inside the house and drops her bags, then I wrap my arms around her in a massive bear hug. God, I’ve missed her so damn much.
She squeezes me back tightly and sighs softly.
I lean back just enough so I can see her face. “What happened?”
“I got ‘laid off.’” She puts air quotes around the words. “Really, the department head hated me and was happy to let me go.”
“Ah, Kend. I’m sorry.” I hold her close, knowing if she flew here in the middle of the night, it’s because she needs me. She needs the comfort of my arms. That’s not me being egotistical, I just know her. Kennedy’s preferred love language is physical touch. Especially when she’s hurting. Knowing how excited she was for this job and feeling like she was finally beginning her career, I know she’s hurting a lot right now.
