Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Adam nods in understanding. “For the record, she used to tell my dad how much she missed you and—”
I put my hand up, halting whatever it is he’s about to say. I can’t go there. I just fucking can’t. He doesn’t get it because he was raised by two parents, and neither of them walked away. “I appreciate you trying to make shit right, and I get you wanting to defend her, but she walked away when I was a kid, by choice, and I’m not sure if I can ever forgive her. If you’d like to get to know each other, I’m down. But it needs to be separate from anything you have with her.”
“I understand. And I do.” After a beat of awkward silence, he asks, “So where do we go from here?”
I squeeze Kaylee’s hand because fuck if I know where the hell we go from here.
“You guys can text, call, hang out, get to know each other,” Kaylee says, saving me. “It doesn’t have to be overnight. Just take it day by day.” She glances at me. “Sometimes, taking it slow is the best way.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BRAXTON
Dad: Tell me this isn’t real...
Bailey: Call me ASAP
Camden: You met your brother?
Adam: Please call me...
I click on the link my dad sent and find several pictures of Kaylee, Adam, and me at lunch. Based on the location of the pictures, somebody working at the bistro must’ve taken them and sent them to the media. And based on the in-depth article, they did their research and aired all our dirty laundry. It’s been a couple of weeks since we met up, so it must’ve taken them that long to put all the pieces together.
“What’s wrong?” Kaylee asks, walking out of the en suite bathroom wrapped in a towel.
“The entire world knows about Adam... and my mom.”
Her brows kiss her forehead. “Adam...?”
“No, I don’t think so. Looks like one of the servers must’ve snapped a couple of pictures.”
“I’m sorry.” She walks over and steps between my legs. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Nah, I gotta call Bailey. Also, my dad saw...”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, but honestly, he has no room to say anything, not after all the lies he’s told. I’m still pissed at him. My mom might’ve walked away, but he had a hand in it.”
“Which is why you need to talk to him.”
“I will.” I stand and rest my hands on her hips. “Later. Today is apartment hunting day. Unless I can convince you to just move in here...”
“Not happening.” She pecks my lips. “I have no desire to live in this bachelor pad.” I open my mouth to argue, but before I can speak, she adds, “And we agreed to take it slow. Moving in together is not taking it slow. Besides”—she cups my face with her soft hands—“I need to do this on my own. I’ve never been independent. I’ve either lived with my parents, or in a dorm, or with Layla, or had roommates... I want a place to call my own.”
I already know this since we’ve had this conversation before, and I get it, but you can’t blame me for trying one last time. Waking up every morning with Kaylee in my bed, in my arms, is the best damn way to wake up, and we both know, even if she gets her own place, there’s no way I’m sleeping without her.
But I also get that she needs to do this for herself. Because if she moves in with me, she’s not proving that she can do it on her own, and if we get a place together, it’s taking a huge step forward in our relationship. So for now, I’m going to let her do what she needs to do, support her independence, and in time, if I have it my way, enough of my shit will be there that she’ll realize I’m not going anywhere.
“All right, Crazy”—I smack her peach of an ass—“get dressed and let’s go find you the perfect place to live.”
While she gets dressed, I call Adam to let him know I’m aware of the situation. We’ve been talking and texting almost daily, getting to know each other, and we have a lot in common. He even asked me for help with a project he’s working on in music appreciation, and I was able to help him.
“What do we do?” he asks.
“That’s up to you. I can make an official statement, sweep it under the rug, or deny the claim.” When he goes quiet, I say something I never thought I’d say, “You’re my brother, and I don’t want to hide you. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to make a statement that we’re brothers. Generally, once the rumors are put to rest, the media calms down, but it will mean you’ll be in the spotlight. People who recognize you will ask questions. This will affect you more than it will me, so if you want me to deny it, I’m okay with that. It won’t change anything between us.”