Page 60 of Stone Promises

I shudder thinking about what my life would be like without him. Tears flood my eyes at the thought of living in a world where Chad doesn’t exist.

“You really love him, don’t you?” he asks.

I nod, using my napkin to dab my eyes. “I think I always have.”

“He never shut up about you in the beginning, you know. When we first moved to L.A., you were all he talked about. Getting that job onMalibu 310was the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. It all happened so fast and he didn’t know how to handle it. And when that Heather bitch got him hooked on drugs, he became someone else entirely.” He runs a hand through his hair in obvious frustration over the memory. Then he studies me. “Oh, shit. I never really put it together.”

“Put what together?” I ask.

“Heather Crawford. She looks a lot like you. Same color hair. She even has green eyes and freckles.” He shakes his head. “No wonder he latched onto her. I guess he was trying to hold onto to you through her or something.”

“She’sthe one who got him doing drugs?” I hate her. I hate her more than I’ve ever hated anyone because she took him from me. From his family.

He nods. “That was when it all started. The gambling, the fighting, the . . . women.” He cringes when he says the last word.

I stare blankly at Kyle. Chad hasn’t yet let me into the entirety of his painful past. I only know bits and pieces and what I’ve seen in the news.

“He hasn’t told you everything, has he?” Kyle asks.

I shake my head. “But that’s okay. I’m not sure I want to know the details. He’s not that person anymore.”

“He’s not,” Kyle says. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t have to deal with a lot of crap, kiddo. The stuff he did in the past, it follows him around like stink on shit. Bookies still contact him, trying to lure him back in the game, even after all this time. He’s got some pending lawsuits stemming from fights he got into. Hell, do you know he even stole from our parents, before he was eighteen and got control of hisMalibumoney?”

I gasp. I knew he was messed up, but it was even worse than I thought. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that?”

“Probably because he thought you’d run,” he says. He reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Listen, Mallory, none of this should make you nervous. He’s very committed to you. But it is a lot to take in and it’s a lot you might have to deal with.”

“I’m glad I didn’t know everything,” I admit. “I think it would have scared me away a few weeks ago. But things are different now. And we’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. We shouldn’t be defined by them.”

“You’re just as awesome now as you were when we were kids, Mallory. My brother doesn’t deserve you,” he says.

“I feel like I’m the one who’s undeserving, Kyle. It’s hard for me to see him as that deviant bad boy celebrity now. He’s just regular old Chad to me. He’s the guy who came in to fix my dad’s leaky faucet when he brought me home one night a few weeks ago. A movie star, who could have easily called a high-priced plumber, crawled under our sink and got his hands dirty just because he wanted to feel normal. He’s the man who, when he took me out to dinner, ordered a pizza for the homeless guy out back, and then stuffed a roll of bills into the pizza box. He does so many selfless things, how can I not see him as anything but wonderful?”

Kyle smiles with pride as our dinner arrives; and we eat, talking about old times. Laughing about the trouble we’d find ourselves in.

“What about you?” I ask. “Is there someone special in your life?”

He shakes his head. “There’s no time. The last year of med school is crazy. I’m busy working in the hospital and when I’m not there, I’m studying pretty much all the time.”

“Why do you do it?” I ask. It’s the same question I asked his older brother. “I mean, Chad told me what he inherited from your grandparents. I assume you got the same. My dad has told me many times how grueling med school and residency can be. Why go through it all?”

He shrugs. “I guess it comes down to wanting to help people,” he says. “I donate to several charities, and I always keep cash on me for when I see people in need, but sometimes giving money isn’t enough. These people need someone to care about them. To go that extra mile. Too many doctors these days are in it for the paycheck. They see indigent people as a nuisance. I see them as a quick turn of fate—something that could have happened to any of us given certain circumstances. Eventually, I want to run a clinic for those people. One that doesn’t just ‘treat ‘em and street ‘em.’ I mean, if I could just help one person’s life turn around for the better, it would all be worth it.”

“Wow,” I say.

Kyle narrows his eyes at me in question. “What?”

“You Stone boys sure know how to make a girl swoon, don’t you?”

“Swoon?” he asks, laughing.

“Yes. You are all inherently good people. Well, when you’re not doped up on drugs,” I say, wrinkling my nose.

“We have incredible parents,” he says.

“I know you do. I can’t wait to see them when I go to L.A.”

He signs the check and escorts me to the train station around the corner. Along the way, we pass a newsstand and my whole world changes in the blink of an eye. It changes because I see myself plastered across the cover of a tabloid magazine. I jump behind Kyle, using him as camouflage. “Kyle, oh my God, look.” I point to the magazine.

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