Baller's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (7 page)

Chapter
Thirteen

Kiptyn

Skila’s
whole body goes rigid. My mind races to try to figure out what the hell I did.
Nothing. I didn't do anything.

“Are you
okay?” I ask. She doesn't reply. I feel her heart racing under my hand.

“Skila,
what is it?” Hearing her name seems to break the spell holding her immobile.

She
shoves at me, pushing me off the top of her. “Is this some kind of sick fucking
joke?”

 
Her voice rises with each word. I've got no
fucking clue what the hell she’s talking about. My mind jumps back to the last
time she ran hot then cold. Maybe she’s fucking crazy. That figures. I find a
chick that holds my attention for more than one night, and she ends up being
bi-polar.

She
leaps off the couch, scrambling to adjust her dress. I sit, hunched back on my
heels, and wonder what the hell is going on. I don't realize I’ve spoken out
loud until she answers me.

“
You
tell
me
, Kiptyn. How the hell do you know Amryn, and why” —her voice
breaks— “Why do you have a picture of him on your mantle?”

“What?”

“Amryn. How
do you know him?”

I glance
at the picture behind me, the picture of me and my brother. It was taken about
six months ago, just before . . .

“Do you
mean Camryn?”

 
I snatch the photo off the mantle and point at
my brother. I see the shock run through her. She didn't know his name was
Camryn. Figures. Cam always used a different name when he started talking to a
girl. He said he didn't want them to only want him because his brother was
famous. He wanted to make sure it was genuine before he brought them around the
family.

“Camryn?”
she asks, sitting back down on the couch, deflated.

“Yeah,
he was my brother. How do you know him?” I ask.

“
Was
? What do you mean
was
?” she asks, answering my question
with another question.

I let it
slide. I'll get my answers later. It’s obvious she knew him somehow. Maybe he
was important to her in some way. It's even clearer that she doesn't know that
he’s . . .

“He’s
dead.” I sit next to her, taking her hand in mine. She lets it go without a
thought. Her head jerks to the side, her eyes widening dramatically. Her free
hand flies to her mouth, covering it before the silent “no” escapes.

“It was
a VBIED. He was deployed a few months ago. It was very sudden. I mean, we all
knew he was scheduled to go on another tour, but then something happened over
there and they needed all available troops as soon as possible. He was supposed
to have another week before they sent them out. He was coming home to see us
before leaving, but they upped the date.”

The
striking blush in her cheeks disappears, replaced by a sallow, pale hue. She
looks like she might be sick any minute.

“He
wasn't there twelve hours before the bomber attacked. I'm not even sure how
they got to them, but we were told that the bomb struck from the bottom of the
Humvee and exploded upward. There were no survivors. He was killed instantly.”

“No. I
had no idea. I was so mad at him,” she mumbles to herself, but I hear her, and
now shock runs its course through me. She raises her head, and tears line her
eyes. “I was supposed to come with him that weekend. I waited for him all day
Friday, but he didn't show.”

I can’t
believe what I'm hearing. She was the woman Cam was bringing home. She was the
‘One’. I'm disgusted with myself. I almost fucked my brother’s girl. He was
fucking in love with her, and I almost fucked her.

I can
tell she realizes the same thing. “I need to go home,” she says, standing.

“I'll
take you,” I say, although I'm not ready for her to go yet. I can't think of a
reason to make her stay. It's been such a shock to both of us tonight that I
understand her need for solitude. I pull my pants back up, buttoning them as
soon as I have them on my hips.

“NO. I—I
can take a cab. I—I think that's better,” she stutters.

I want
to pull her to me and tell her it's not her fault. She had no idea who I was
any more than I did her. I want to calm her and hold her and tell her it's
going to be okay, but my brother’s voice is echoing through my mind, the last
time I spoke to him replaying over and over. “I think I love her, Kip,” he
said, and as I sit there watching her jaw quiver, with my heart splintering
into a dozen different pieces, I wonder if maybe he isn’t the only one.

Chapter
Fourteen

Skila

Amryn .
. .
Camryn
. . . was Kiptyn’s
brother. How is that even possible? Camryn lived in Atlanta, two thousand miles
away. Didn’t he? I didn’t really know. I didn’t know a damn thing about him.
That was startlingly obvious, considering I didn’t even know his real name.
Why?
Why lie? I don’t get it.

Kiptyn
tosses the cab driver a hundred dollars and waits for me to tell him my
address. It rolls off my tongue as the tears roll off my cheeks. My heart hurts.
I want to scream and yell and shout and cry
.
My emotions are all over the place. A piece of me is torn to bits knowing
he was gone . . . like really gone, not just some dick who decided he’d had
enough of fucking me, but really gone, dead, and then, following up on the tail
end of that pain is . . . relief.

I can’t
explain it, but knowing he hadn’t just vanished, that there was a reason he
didn’t show up and didn’t call, made me feel good. Obviously, I didn’t want him
dead. I’d never wish that on anyone. Kiptyn stands rooted to the same spot. The
look on his face tears at my resolve. I want to jump from the cab and run back
up his drive, throw my arms around him, and make all his pain go away, but I can’t.
He was Camryn's
brother.
Whatever
could have been between us is over. Gone.

My heart
shatters. I rub the heel of my palm against my chest to push the pain away, but
it doesn’t work. My breath catches in the base of my throat. I push it out, and
a pain-filled cry echoes the interior of the cab. The driver glances back at
me, pity clear in the hard lines of his face. No doubt, he thinks we had a
spat. Or worse, maybe he’s a regular at Kiptyn’s and thinks I’m another of his
discarded women. The answer to my unspoken question comes a second later.

“Don’t
cry, miss. He ain't worth it. Plenty more in the sea . . . maybe not so rich,
but still.” His choppy English does nothing to soften the blow his words deal.
I want to tell him to mind his own fucking business. I want to scream at him
and tell him to go to fucking hell and leave me alone, that it isn’t like that,
but the words won’t come. Pulling my legs up on the seat, I curl in around
myself, letting the pain of his loss crash over me.

It isn’t
until I’m sitting on the couch, going over everything with Lisa, that I realize
that the loss I cried over wasn’t for Camryn. I'd miss him, of course, and I
hate to think that he will never get the chance to live his life, to fall in
love and have a family.

No, the
loss I feel is for Kiptyn. I’ve known him less than a week—if you don’t count
the run-in at the club—and already my heart has betrayed me, falling hard and
fast for him. It has nothing to do with his money or fame. It’s so much more. The
sweetness he carries inside of himself, the fact that he still looks out for
people from his past and helps strangers in bars, the way he held me and
touched me. The list goes on and on.

“It's
going to be okay, Sky.” Lisa tries to calm me, but she can't. I’m not upset.
I’m devastated.

“How,
Lisa? How is it going to be ok? The man is dead.” My words are louder than I
intend, but I need her to explain to me how she thinks it's going to be ok.

“I know
that, but you had already let him go. You’ve already moved on. I don’t get why
you’re so upset. Did you love him?” she asks, and now I understand. She thinks
I’m hurting over Amryn . . . Camryn.

“It's
not him, Lisa. No, I didn’t love him.” I let out a harsh laugh. “I didn’t even
know
him.”

“Then
what’s wrong, babe?”

“It’s
Kiptyn. I . . . I can't explain it. My heart hurts for him. It was his brother,
Lisa. I can't imagine. What if I lost Devan or Jax? I’d die, right then and
there.”

“Are you
falling in love with him?”

The
knowing look on her face mocks me. She’s always looking for love in someone’s
actions. The poor girl sits around reading romance novels by the truckload,
hoping one of the imaginary book boyfriends will magically come to life and
sweep her off her feet.

Normally,
I pity her. Normally, I laugh and joke back with her, telling her she reads too
much or that true love doesn’t exist. Not today. Today, I sit silently on the
couch a foot away from her, my head tucked into the crease of my elbow against
the side arm, trying and failing to choke my sobs back down. I don’t have to
say a word today, because she already knows.

I’m
crazy about a man that I can't have. Even if I was willing to try to date the
brother of my deceased ex . . .
boyfriend
?
There is no way he would. I saw it in the look he gave me when he realized who
I was. He would never touch me again. It’s over.

My
stomach rolls with nausea. Clamping a hand over my mouth, I race to the bathroom,
puking up everything I have inside of me. How on earth has my life become this?
Maybe it’s time for me to admit defeat and move back to Atlanta.

No,
screw that. I can do this. I'll find a way to make it work here in LA. First
thing tomorrow, I'll start looking for a new job. There’s no way Mr. Ames is
going to let me keep mine, especially if I didn’t produce that exclusive
interview I had promised him, but I’m one hell of a reporter and I can land
another job. It probably won’t be with a paper as large as the
Los Angeles Daily Home
, but as long as
it pays the bills, I’m happy.

With
some semblance of a game plan, I crawl in between the silky soft sheets
covering my bed and beg the Sandman to come visit me soon. I need all the help
I can get to forget tonight. If only his magical sand could make me forget
Kiptyn Price, then I'd be in heaven.

Chapter
Fifteen

Kiptyn

I should
have never let her leave. I should have demanded she sit there on the couch and
talk all this shit out. Fuck. Now what do I do? I’m on edge. My whole body is
swarming with nerves. How it is possible that the one fucking woman I want is
already taken by my fucking dead brother? Fate is playing some fucked up joke
on me. It has to be. I picture him, her, them—what the fuck ever—rolling in the
floor, laughing their ass off at me right now. Well, I’ve got news for you,
bastard.

I.

Don’t.

Lose.

I’ll
play your sick, twisted game, and I'll kick your ass at it.

Running
my hands through my hair, I stomp up the drive. I need a fucking drink and a
cold shower. I had her in my fucking arms, my lips on her delicate chocolate
skin, and I fucking let her get away. Well, technically, she ran away. Again.

When I
pass my slick, blue Audi R8, I hear a ringing noise. I stop, listening. There
is definitely something ringing inside my car. Opening the driver’s door, I
spot Skila’s heels and handbag. I smile. She’ll have to see me now. Her phone
is ringing again. I open her handbag and pull it out. Lisa is calling. Swiping
left on the screen, I answer.

“Hello,”
she says.

“Hey.
Sky left her bag here.”

I don’t
say anything else. I don’t know what to say. I wait to see what her best friend
has to say, knowing that will tell me more than anything else whether I still
have a chance.

“Oh,”
she pauses, thinking. I hear a door shut and imagine her walking outside so she
can let loose on me without Skila hearing. “I’ll tell her I found her phone . .
. when you bring it over tomorrow. Bring coffee,” she says and hangs up.

I want
to fist bump whatever god is on my side tonight, but I hold it back, not
wanting to rub my small victory in the face of the fates. At least now, I know
there is still a chance, no matter how small. I’ll win her back if it's the
last thing I do. It’s funny how much my life has changed over the course of the
last three weeks. I don’t even remember the last time I went out or the last
bitch I brought home. None of the countless women across the country matter to
me anymore. Only one.

My
Midnight Sky.

Walking
back inside, I feel lighter, happier. I have hope for a brighter future. I toss
Skila’s handbag on the counter next to her heels and head to the refrigerator
to grab a beer, but I don’t make it. A strange voice fills my kitchen,
startling me. I whip back around, wondering who the hell is here, before I
realize its coming from Skila’s phone. I must have bumped someone’s number when
I set it down. Picking it up, I glance down to see who I accidentally called,
but its connected to voicemail. About that time, the words coming across the
line register and I’m stuck standing there, dumbfounded.

“Miss Parker. This is Rachael with
Dr. Banks. I’ve got your blood results in, and I’m happy to inform you that you
do not have the flu. You’re pregnant. Congratulations. Call the office as soon
as possible to set up a prenatal appointment.”

I press
replay three times, and I can't fucking believe it.

She’s
pregnant.

I have
no doubt exactly whose baby it is. If Camryn were here, I'd punch his fucking
lights out for making her go through this shit alone. She deserves better, but
no, he had to go off and get himself fucking killed, the bastard. I can't imagine
how she’s going to feel when she hears the news. Her world already came
crashing in around her tonight. This is just the fucking icing on the cake. I
hate the idea of her hurt, afraid and alone. I don’t understand it, but over
the last few weeks, this woman has completely invaded me. She has conquered my
restless soul and made me feel, for once, that there is more to life than
playing ball and fucking bitches.

I'll be
there for her. I'll be there for her
and
her unborn child. It's the least I can do. Hell, it’s all I want to do. Now
that I know she’s pregnant, no other thought has room in my mind. Clouds
overhead part, letting the moon shine down on me, and I imagine it’s Camryn
offering me his blessing from his place high in the heavens. I’ve got this. I
can do this. How hard will it be to raise a kid? Shit, I make enough money that
I can pay someone to do it for me—not that I would. My brother’s baby deserves
better than that. Skila deserves more than that. I’ll be the best fucking daddy
in the world.

Walking
back in my front door, another thought suddenly hits me. So out of the blue, I
almost double over with the pain the thought alone causes me. What if she
decides to abort? What if she doesn’t want kids, or what if she just doesn’t
want Camryn's kid? I can’t blame her if she doesn’t. The father is dead. As far
as she knows, she’ll be going at it all alone.

No. I
won’t let her.

I don’t care what it takes. I refuse
to let her abort the baby. I'll do and say whatever it fucking takes to make sure
she follows through with the pregnancy. I’ll let her know that I want it. I’ll
make a great fucking daddy. I know it's going to be hard, but I’ve got a plan.
We're family, whether she likes it or not, and I’m going to
be there, no matter what.