Page 48 of Never Kiss the Bad Boy

I’m about to go inside to tell her what Dad’s up to when I realize she’s talking about me.

“Yes, Kyle came by to talk to Charles. He’s doing really well, despite always poking the bear with his father.” Mom laughs like mine and Dad’s antics are adorably cute, not painfully bitter, and then she’s quiet for a minute.

She’s on the phone, and I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but still, I listen.

I shouldn’t. I know it’s rude, and is a sure-fire way to hear things you wish you hadn’t, but a peek behind the curtain of what Mom actually thinks is too tempting to resist.

As much as I hate Dad, I love Mom. She’s been the tempering force between me and Dad my whole life, somehow straddling a line where we both feel like she’s on our side. She would never let Dad go too far in punishing me, even when I deserved it, but she would also talk to me, getting me to see his side of things sometimes. And she was my foundation point in the family, the one who took me here, there, and everywhere with my siblings, especially when they got older and started leaving home on their own. Mom made sure they came back for dinners, for visits, and would take me to see them. She’s not perfect, but she’s stood by me through some dark and ugly shit, and I love her for that and so much more.

“Oh, good for them!” Mom exclaims, then she hums, listening. “Yes, it was like that for us after the twins were born too. Charles was the same way. I think he saw them as two more mouths to feed and panicked a bit. It was like he had this instinctive urge to go out and conquer the world, no matter that he’d already done that several times over.” Mom sighs, and I can almost sense her rolling her eyes.

Cole and Kayla are twins, though you’d never know it. From what I’ve gathered, Cole was always chasing after his older brothers and Kayla was the princess everyone always wanted.

It’s interesting to hear about my family before I was even a glint in Mom’s eye, though, especially since by all reports, Dad was a doting father when the oldest boys were little. I guess somewhere along the way, he became a workaholic and morphed into the father he was to Cole, Kayla, and me in the process.

“I didn’t need more money in the bank, you know? We were more than fine there. What I needed was help at home. I had the twins, plus the older boys, who were essentially running wild, and just needed someone to run defense with me. That’s when we hired Anders. He was a godsend.”

Anders. I’ve heard the name. He was the family ‘manny’ for a while before I was born, from Iceland or Norway or one of those Scandinavian countries, and left to go back home while Mom was pregnant with me. I don’t think my brothers remember him much, and I’ve never seen pictures of him, but I’ve heard some of the long-time house staff mention him, so he must’ve been well-liked.

“Maybe they could hire someone too,” Mom suggests to whoever she’s talking to, but then she laughs. “Just tell them to be alert because as soon as we had help, even with Charles being in and out of the country seemingly every other week, fate had one more surprise in store for us. Boom, here came Kyle!” She laughs again, not at me exactly, or about me, but there’s something…

‘Boom’ was one of my favorite words as a kid. I was a bit of a linebacker type to my brothers’ taller, leaner body types, and even as a toddler, I could take Cameron down and he’s years older than I am.

But that’s not what’s wiggling in my mind, trying to come together into a fully-formed thought.

Dad was gone a lot. Mom had help with Anders. Here I came, an unexpected addition.

“No way,” I hiss to myself. I freeze, thoughts hitting me from every direction.

I mean, it’d make sense.

This could be why I’m the only kid who doesn’t look like a Harrington. It’s not like I’m brunette, but my hair is shades darker than any of my siblings, and my eyes are several hues lighter. My jawline looks nothing like my brothers’ or Dad’s, and I’m the only boy built like a brick shithouse.

Could it be because I only share half my DNA with the rest of my siblings?

Is Dad not my dad?

Holy fuck, he knows. Or at least suspects. Maybe he tried to do right by me, not blowing up the rest of the family over it, but he’s got to have that little doubt in the back of his mind, that little prick of the thorn that makes him wonder every time he looks at me.

That’s why he’s always been distant with me. That’s why I can never live up to his expectations. Because from the beginning, I’m proof of a bigger failure.

I have to go. Now.

I admittedly have more parental issues than Batman, but this is a lot to take in, and as much as I’d like to burst in and demand some answers from Mom, I need to think about this before I do something stupid. All I have is half a conversation and some suspicions.

And a lifetime of feeling like an outsider.

CHAPTER 17

DANI

“Mama, are you sure?” I ask, the phone cradled on my shoulder while I scrub dishes.

“Si, mija. You can come tonight?”

I sigh, glancing at the clock, but I already know my answer. If Mama wants me to come over and is asking me to bring them dinner, I’m going. There’s no other option.

“Yes, I’ll be by around six after I get the kitchen cleaned up.”

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