Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance(31)

“I’ve been so sick I couldn’t get out of bed,” I say, my voice rising. I don’t want Braxton to hear us fight, but I’m so mad I can’t help it. “I couldn’t make it to the bathroom without help. And you’re worried about your goddamn car?”

“I didn’t know you were sick,” he says.

“Because you didn’t call to find out. Besides, wasn’t it obvious?”

“Son of a bitch, Kylie, I thought you had too much to drink. You and that f*cker Braxton were pounding shots like you were at a goddamn frat party.”

“I had two shots, *,” I say. “Two.”

He’s quiet for a second. “It seemed like it must have been more.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I say. “And I’ll pay you back for the stupid car detailing.”

“No, no,” he says. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I honestly had no idea. I thought Braxton got you drunk, and it pissed me off. I didn’t know you were sick. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I say. I’m not going to tell him it was Brax who took care of me. It will only piss him off, and I don’t have the energy to fight with him right now.

I look up and see Braxton standing in the doorway. He has a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, a glass of ice water, and a little stack of saltine crackers. There’s no way he had time to heat up soup while I’ve been on the phone. That means he made it for me before I woke up.

Holy shit.

“I’m glad you’re okay, babe,” Derek says.

I stare at Braxton. His stubble is thicker than usual and he’s wearing the same clothes he had on at the bar the other night. He’s literally been here this whole time, hasn’t he?

Vaguely, I remember begging him not to leave me the first night I was sick. And he didn’t. Brax stuck. I’m stunned—and extremely confused—because what I’m feeling is not a feeling I should have for Braxton.

“Kylie?” Derek says.

“Sorry, I’m still really tired. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, bye babe,” Derek says.

Braxton’s eyes are on the floor as I hang up. I can tell he knows who I was talking to. When he looks up at me, I see something I’ve never seen on his face before. Pain.

I’ve seen him in physical pain. I was with him after his motorcycle accident. His leg was mangled. He kept it in pretty well, but I saw it in his eyes while I sat with him in his hospital room.

But this pain is different. It’s deeper. More personal.

No, he can’t be in pain over me. It has nothing to do with Derek, or sleeping next to me in my bed these last four days. He’s only doing what a best friend does. That’s why we’re so great together. We take care of each other.

We are great together.

Fuck.

A new thought bursts through my mind, ravaging my brain with its truth. But it isn’t new at all. It’s a thought I’ve had for years. I just keep pushing it away, ignoring it. Looking at Braxton, standing in my doorway with a tray of soup he made for me, I can’t make it stop. I can’t get it out of my mind any more than I can ignore how it’s felt to have him with me these last four days.

I’m completely, totally, madly in love with him.





There is absolutely no question in my mind that I have to end it with Derek. It isn’t fair to either of us. I’m not even mad about the night I got sick. It was a dick move on his part, but it isn’t a deal breaker.

Braxton is the deal breaker.

I’ll simply tell Derek I don’t see our relationship going anywhere, and I think we should go our separate ways. I don’t know whether he’ll even care very much. When we first started dating, he seemed totally into me, but lately I’m left wondering if he’d notice if we didn’t see each other for a long time.

Regardless of my recent revelation, Derek and I don’t have a future, and I know it.

I have no clue what I’m going to do about Braxton. I’m a mess. Telling him the truth is completely out of the question. There is no way I can let this slip. We’ve been friends for too long, and this threatens every fiber of that friendship. Despite the way he looks at me sometimes, I can’t imagine he feels the same way. He’s just a shameless flirt. He’s not serious about any woman, so I can’t expect that he’d magically be serious about me. And the last thing I need is to become another notch on Braxton’s bedpost.

I try for almost a week to see Derek in person, but he always has a reason he can’t. I don’t want to do this over the phone, but I decide I can’t take the waiting anymore, and call him.

“Hey, babe,” he says. He sounds distracted.

“Derek, do you have a minute to talk?” I say. “Is this a good time?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.

“Listen, I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I keep trying to get together, and you’re always too busy,” I say.

“Okay.”

I take a deep breath. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” There, I said it.

Derek is quiet for a long moment. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m so sorry, Derek. You’re a great guy, but … we’re not great together. We’re just okay. I want more than okay.”