Always Have: A Bad Boy Romance(53)

Sabrina instantly looks dejected. Damn it. I was trying to let them down easy.

Amy doesn’t seem to want to give up. She tilts her head and brushes her hair behind her shoulder. “Are you sure?” She trails a finger up my arm.

I look her in the eyes, holding her gaze for a long moment, and she freezes. “I’m sorry, Amy, but I can’t. My heart belongs to someone else, and I can’t do that to her.”

Their expressions instantly change—eyebrows drawn in, little frowns crossing their mouths.

“Aw,” Amy says. “You look so sad.”

I toss back the rest of my drink and stand. “Yeah, well, I deserve it. Can I get a cab for you? I’d like to make sure you get home safe.”

They look at each other, and Amy answers. “No, I don’t think we’re ready to call it yet.”

I smile at both of them. “Have a good night, then, ladies. It was very nice meeting you.”

I set my glass down on the bar and walk out the door without looking back.





The smell of food fills my car. I haven’t had much of an appetite, but I have to admit, it’s making me hungry. I picked up a turkey dinner for two from Metro Market—sliced turkey breast, stuffing, green bean casserole, butter rolls, and two slices of pumpkin pie. In the past, I’ve cooked for Dad on Thanksgiving, but I didn’t have the energy for it this year. It’s all I can do to get a takeout version and bring it to his place.

He suggested we just have dinner in his building’s cafeteria, but that would mean sitting in a room with other people. I haven’t seen my dad since everything blew up in my face with Braxton, and I don’t know how I’m going to tell him. If I fall apart—and there’s a very good chance I will—I don’t need a bunch of witnesses.

I can’t get that horrible night out of my mind. I still don’t know what happened to flip Braxton’s switch. That morning, he was fine. More than fine. He was all kisses and whispered I love yous. Of course, he had his cock in me five minutes after we woke up, so there’s that. Apparently he spent the last several months thinking with his dick, and when his brain caught up he freaked out.

What I don’t understand is why. Why did this happen?

He denied cheating on me, and despite how hurt I am, I believe him. He’s always been a player, but he’s never been a cheater. Did things simply get too intense? Or is this just how he operates? He has his fun and moves on. I’ve never seen the dynamics of one of his relationships closely enough to know how things go down. From the outside, I’ve seen him go through a lot of women, but I never knew if he acted serious when he was with them. Did he tell them all he loved them? Is that just part of his game?

I don’t want to believe that, but I feel so stupid for thinking I was special. I don’t know what to think anymore.

I bring the food upstairs to my dad’s place. He greets me like normal, and I do my best to act like I’m okay. He watches me set out our dinner with a furrow between his brows, so I know I’m not going to be able to hide anything from him. I have to tell him anyway, but I don’t want to. He was the only other person in my life who knew, who saw Braxton and I together, acting like a couple. If I admit to him that it’s over, I have to face the awful reality that it’s true. Braxton used me, and left.

I try to make small talk, but it doesn’t work very well, so I lapse into silence while we eat.

Dad slowly wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

I look down at my plate, my food hardly touched. I don’t want to say it.

“Is this about Braxton?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Have you talked to him?” I ask.

“No,” he says. “I haven’t heard from him for several weeks. I’ve been wondering what’s wrong.”

He left my dad, too. Fucking hell. “Dad, he…” I’m not sure what to say. I can’t even badmouth him. That’s how f*cked-up this breakup is. I should want to call him an * and tell my dad how much I hate him.

But I don’t hate him at all.

I take a breath, hoping my burning eyes don’t betray me. “He ended it.”

“Oh, Kylie,” Dad says. He reaches out and puts his twisted hand on top of mine.

Tears stream down my face. There’s no stopping them.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he says.

I clamp my hand over my mouth and cry. I don’t try to stop. Dad is blessedly quiet, letting me sob. I’ve cried a lot already, but here, with my dad’s hand touching mine, the dam breaks. Hard.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I say, when I catch my breath. “I made such a mess of my life. I never should have fallen for him.”

“I wish I understood what happened,” he says. “Braxton loves you, Kylie. I don’t know why he’s doing this.”

“No,” I say, my voice emphatic. “No, he does not love me. Maybe in some weird Braxton world, he thought what he felt was love, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t real.”

“I don’t believe that,” Dad says.

“Why are you taking his side?” I ask. “I didn’t ask for this. He came home one night and that was it. He said it was a mistake—that we should have stayed friends, and he couldn’t do it anymore. Do you know how much that hurt?”