“I realize you are upset right now, White. I would be too in your shoes. Kayla has always had problems with being honest, but she’s my sister, and you stand by your family no matter what.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Black butts in before I can answer.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you knew your father was beating Kayla and not once did you come forward and try to stop it.”
“Beating?” I growl, turning my attention back to my brother.
“Goodness, is that the garbage she’s telling you? My father bent over backwards to try and make Kayla a part of our family. She made it impossible.”
“That’s not the reports I read. Not even close.”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Black, and why didn’t you tell me?”
“Family of Kayla Graham?” A doctor comes in, interrupting all of us.
“I’m her fiancé,” I tell him, spinning around. “How is she, Doc?”
“We’re still running some tests. Her blood pressure is running pretty low and she’s dehydrated. We’ll know more soon. She asked to speak to a Green?”
“That’s me,” my brother says, going forward, but that’s not happening.
“She may want to talk to Green, but it’s me she’ll be talking to,” I growl. I hear them all call my name, but I ignore it.
“Sir, I must insist that the patient’s visitors be limited to only those she asks to—”
I open and close the door on the doctor. I figure I have five minutes tops before security escorts me out of here, or my brother, the cop, manages to smooth everything over. I waste one of those minutes just staring at Kayla. She’s staring out the window, looking small and defenseless. The guilt inside of me intensifies. She turns around slowly and resentment flashes in her eyes.
“I asked for Green.”
“How are you?” I ask her, ignoring the obvious.
She holds up the hand that has an IV drip running through it with a frown. “Peachy. Just peachy,” she sighs, and I walk slowly to her. I sit in the chair beside her bed and take her hand in mine, letting my thumb move along her fingers, just below her bandage.
“I love you, Kayla.”
“White—”
“I know we have shit to work through, Buttercup, and we will. But you have to know that I love you.”
“I’m not sure what I know anymore,” she whispers, looking up at me.
“We’ll get through this, Kayla. We just have to hold on and get you healthy.”
“Maybe I was right all along and we’re just not meant to be together.”
“Bullshit. Do you love me?”
“Of course I do, but…”
“And Kayla, no matter what you think, I love you.”
“White…”
“I love you.”
“Maybe love’s not enough.”
“Maybe it’s everything.”
“I’m scared, White.”
“Believe it or not, honey, I am too. But I don’t want to lose you.”
“You don’t? But what about Rachel and—”
“I never slept with Rachel. I don’t know her game, but I can tell you that. I think it’s time you and I talked everything out and made a plan.” Kayla looks me over for a minute, completely silent. I almost feel as if I’m holding my breath. Then slowly she shakes her head in agreement, and all I can feel is relief.
CHAPTER 59
WHITE
“What the fuck are you doing here, Rachel?”
“We needed to talk. Are you drinking?” she asks.
I look down at the shot of whiskey in my hand. “So what if I am? Jesus, with the week I’ve had, I deserve a drink.”
“Kayla really took you for a ride, didn’t she?”
“You could say that,” I tell her, looking her over. I’ve never liked her a lot, but how the fuck could I not see how fake she was before now?
“Did you really break up with her?”
“I’m not wasting my time on a lying bitch,” I growl, finishing my drink. I doubt she will see the truth or the irony in that statement. I’m staring at the biggest lying bitch I’ve ever met. After my talk with Kayla yesterday though, I have one goal: to make Rachel tell me what her damn game is. With that in mind, I do my best not to get up and choke her. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, but damn if she doesn’t tempt me.
“Kayla always causes drama. I tried to maintain a friendship with her because we are sisters, even if it’s only half, but we’re just different kinds of people.”
“I can see that. You two are nothing alike,” I tell her. Jesus, truer words have never been spoken.
“Thanks, White. I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
“Not really.”
“We need to discuss the baby.”
“We’re not having a baby. I don’t know what your game is, Rachel, but you need to cut the shit.”
“White—”
“Whatever game you’re playing needs to stop. I don’t know who’s the father of that baby you’re carrying, but I know it’s not me.”
“You’re wrong. We—”
“We did nothing. Even if I had wanted to, and I did not, I was too drunk that night to do anything.”
“Then how do you explain this?” she asks, her hand petting the prominent curve of her stomach.
“Fuck if I know. It’s probably not immaculate conception, so I figure you found some idiot to knock you up.”