Chapter 17

Seventeen

Kyleigh

All I've done since finding out about my mom is ignore my real life and spend the majority of my days with Rowan. I know I'm pushing off the inevitable, but it's freeing to just be with someone for sex. At least it started that way. Now every time I'm with him, I feel a little more for him and then feel guilty that he doesn't know who my brother is.

It's been easy to dodge my mom because she hasn't even tried to call me. Good. I hope she's being eaten alive with guilt, but something tells me that's not the case. Conor has called me a few times, and I've dodged him. My dad is busy with a case. Which leaves me to push away all the anxiety I feel about what's going to happen with my parents and pretend that everything is okay. At least for the time I spend inside The Nest.

My phone rings, and Conor's name flashes across the screen. I press the button to send it to voicemail, but he doesn't leave one, sending me a text instead.

Call me. I've got huge news.

I'm busy. What's your huge news?

I'm coming home.

What is he talking about? His preseason training has to be starting soon like the Falcons'. Why would he come home? Shit. If he is coming home for a visit, I have to tell him about Mom.

I press his name on the contact and press the speaker button, muting the television.

"Finally have time for your big brother?" he answers.

"A minute or two, I guess."

"You're funny."

"What do you mean you're coming home? Doesn't training start soon?"

"It does." I think he's in his kitchen because I can hear a sizzling pan in the background.

"So how do you have time to come home before the season starts?"

I wasn't prepared to tell my brother about my mom. His season is about to start, and it will probably crush him just like it did me. And maybe it's a little because I know that Conor will call my dad and tell him. He'll confront the situation head-on while I tend to try to avoid conflict. We've always been opposites in the way we react to a crisis. It would be so easy to let him just take this over and handle everything with my parents. But a part of me knows that I can't place the sole burden on him. That it isn't fair.

"Yeah, I have my training in Chicago."

"What are you talking about?" Why would the Florida Fury come up to Chicago to train for the season? I grab my iced tea and take a sip, leaning back in the chair.

"I'm a Falcon now."

My iced tea sprays out of my mouth. "Wha…what?"

"I've been traded. I can't wait to tell Mom. She's gonna be so happy. Speaking of, can you go get her? She's not answering my call either."

I stand and grab a napkin, wiping down my coffee table. "I'm not at the shop."

"Why? Are you sick?"

"Conor, I need you to start from the beginning. Why would they trade you?"

He scoffs. "Jeez, sis, thanks for thinking I'm not a hot commodity. You think no one wants me?"

"No." I toss my tea-soaked napkins in the trash. "I'm just surprised the Fury doesn't want to keep you."

"Of course they wanted to keep me, but the Falcons wanted me more."

I'm not sure I understand how the trade thing works, but it doesn't matter. Conor coming home means I need to end this thing with Rowan. Profound disappointment fills my chest. "That's cool."

"Cool?"

Conor's clearly offended that I'm not jumping up and down. I'm happy he's coming home, but his return forces me to confront the two things I've been avoiding—my mom's infidelity and my situation with Rowan.

I can't leave Conor in the dark. He needs to understand what he's coming home to. Before finding out my mom was cheating, I would've been screaming with excitement.

"Yeah, when do you have to report here?" I ask.

"For training. Which means soon. I'm coming into town this week to find a place. Unless you want to offer up yours?"

"Um…no. You want to shack up on my couch?"

He talks about his agent hooking him up somewhere, and all I can think of is losing Rowan. It shouldn't be a problem since it's hardly been any time that we've spent together, and we both agreed it wasn't anything serious. It sucks to lose my one constant since my world shattered, but I can adapt. I always have. I run my thumb over my anchor tattoo.

The number one problem is telling my brother that he's not coming home to the big happy family he's used to.

"Hey, Con." I feel nauseated at having to do what I've put off for so long.

"Want to insult me again?"

"No. Um… I have to talk to you about something, and I hate to do it over the phone, but I'm not sure I have a choice."

His silence is deafening. I'm not sure what he's even thinking it could be. "Ky, what's going on?"

"So…I went to one of Mom's weddings."

"Mom's weddings? How many times has she been married?" He laughs.

I want to ask if he's preparing his dad jokes years in advance, but this isn't the time.

"You know what I'm talking about." I lower my head, pissed that I have to be the one to tell him. Damn my mother for putting me in this position. "I stopped in at the shop on my way because I forgot the card to give the couple."

"So forgetful," he jokes because he's usually the forgetful one.

"Can you not sense the seriousness of what I'm about to tell you?" I'm annoyed that he's still being Mr. Jokester when I'm dying inside and filled to the brim with anger at my mom.

"Okay, sorry. What is it?" That's the one thing with Conor. I'm not sure if our age difference was a wide enough gap that we just never fought. We did, but rarely.

"I saw Mom in her office with another man."

There. He knows. I said it. And I really hope if my mom doesn't tell my dad that Conor will be with me when I do.

Conor is quiet for a few seconds, and his voice sounds strained when he does talk. "Okay, what's the real news? You knocked up? Get married in Vegas? Finally tell Mom you're going out on your own?"

"I'm serious, Conor. Mom is cheating on Dad."

I hear his quick intake of breath, and my gut sours. The thing I hate most in life is upsetting people. I've never been able to stomach hurting someone.

"Seriously?" The heartbreak in his tone kills me, and tears spring to my eyes.

"I am," I nearly whisper.

"Does Dad know? Did she tell him? Did you?"

I couldn't do it, but I hate telling Conor that. He's always been such a great big brother, taken a lot off my shoulders. When I didn't want to go to Mom's alma mater, Conor stuck up for me and said the School of Fashion Design at Kent State University was just as good. She's always had a soft spot for Conor, so she didn't give me a ton of grief except a dig here or there over the years.

"Conor…"

He groans. "He should know."

"I couldn't do it." It makes me physically ill to think about sitting in front of my dad and telling him that his wife of thirty-three years is cheating on him with some mystery man. It's going to blow up his life.

"Fine. We'll do it together. I'll be flying in. What did Mom tell you when you confronted her? I'm assuming you did…"

The doubt in his voice shows how well he knows me. This is where we're so different. Conor never shies away from conflict, believing everyone should get what they deserve.

"Why aren't you mad? You sound…resolved." I grab my dust rag and run it over the furniture. When I'm frustrated, I tend to get obsessive about cleaning.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm pissed."

"But you didn't really react. I was crushed. I wanted to rip that man off Mom and punch her in the face. You're just like, ‘We have to tell Dad' and ‘What did Mom say,' as if she could make any excuse for what I saw." I work my way into the nooks of the table to make sure every speck of dust is gone.

"It fucking sucks that she did it, but she did. Now we have to tell Dad so he can deal with it."

He's so matter of fact. I don't know if I'm envious or pissed off that he's not wallowing in grief and anger like I am.

"Conor, she just ripped our family apart and for what? Some guy who she said was no one to her." Just the thought of her sitting in her office chair and telling me he wasn't anyone brings all the rage that was so hard to push down back to the surface. It makes me wish I could go back in time and relive it so I could throw my iced coffee in her face. The satisfaction of seeing it drip down her expensive leisure wear would be worth it.

"I know, Ky. I do. And I am mad, but we're adults. This is Mom and Dad's problem."

I stop dusting and sit on the couch before I pass out. Did he just say it's not our business? "They're our parents, Conor. It affects us too. And she used us. Put us out there like some perfect family to help her business, meanwhile she's going behind Dad's back and fucking someone else!"

He blows out a breath. "Yeah, I know. We'll talk more when I get in. This sucks, but ignoring it isn't going to help. Trust me."

"I'm not ignoring it. I confronted her, and she tried to act like it was nothing. Then she told Dad she gave me a vacation. She's lying about everything. How can you be so calm?" I rub at a water ring on my side table.

"It's bullshit. It is, but I feel really far away right now to really get into this. We'll talk when I get into town."

This is the cool, calm, and collected Conor. I'm not sure where he learned to handle crises this way.

"Fine," I grumble.

"You'll come apartment shopping with me? I mean, you are on vacation."

I smile before realizing I'm still mad. There are very few people who can get me to change moods as fast as Conor. Then again, Rowan can take me from a crying mess to so turned on it takes nothing to orgasm. "Yeah, sure."

"Now say congratulations, big brother. I can't wait to have you home."

I shake my head, leaning back on my couch. "Congratulations, big brother. I can't wait to have you home."

"There's my little sister. I'll text you when I get into town."

"Okay."

"And Ky?" he says. "I love you, and no matter what happens, you always have me. But we'll get through this. I'm not sure how much shit we'll have to paddle through, but we'll come out of this."

And that's why I love my big brother. "Thanks, Conor."

"Love you."

"Love you."

We hang up and I sit on the couch, clutching my phone to my chest. I go to the text message Rowan sent me an hour ago and study it again. Guilt is the only reason I didn't respond to him right away because I know I need to tell him who my brother is. Now it's even more pressing.

Busy?

I click on the reply button, and my thumbs hover over the screen. With Conor's transfer, everything has changed. I should just send a message back to end this, but at some point, I have to tell him. With Conor coming here, there's no doubt there will be a run-in between the three of us.

Be there in thirty.

Now I just have to walk in there and confess what I've been holding back and not allow his body and his words and his dick to sidetrack me before I can tell him who I really am.