Page 31 of Valentine's With My Best Friend's Dad

Kayley is sitting on the bottom step of the double staircase as we walk into the large entranceway. With her head bowed and in almost complete darkness, she looks like something out of a horror movie. The skylight lets in peeps of starlight, making her tear-streaked cheeks glisten when she looks up at us.

Hunter pads over to her, nuzzling her body with his head, moaning softly.

“Kayley,” I say. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

I expect her to ask us where we’ve been, but whatever’s making her cry has worked its way too deep inside of her for her to care about such unimportant things right now. Her sandy-blonde hair is tangled around her face. Her eyes a deep red.

I walk toward her, conscious of Liam’s steps on the marble flooring just behind me.

“It’s Ryan,” she moans, bowing her head in her hands. “We were at his house, after the play. And he started getting really weird about his bedside drawer. I was looking for a phone charger and I went to open it, and he really freaked out. He started begging me not to open it. It became this whole thing. I asked him if he had a second cellphone in there or something, and he wouldn’t tell me. He was acting so suspicious all of a sudden. I asked and asked, and nothing, nothing. So I stormed out of there and I walked home.”

“You walked? In this weather?” Liam says sharply.

“Yep,” Kayley says, with a strange, strangled sort of laugh.

“Let me make us some cocoa,” he says. “Lola, will you get her a blanket?”

“Sure,” I say.

I reach over and give Kayley what I hope is a supportive squeeze on the shoulder, and never mind the fact that this hand was just doing unspeakable things to her father. I need to lock that in a box in my mind for the time being.

We can’t tell her now, not tonight, not after everything she’s been through.

Is that an excuse or a genuine reason?

I don’t know.

It’s hard to tell the difference anymore.

Chapter Fourteen

Liam

“Is she asleep?” I ask, running my hands absentmindedly through Hunter’s fur as I recline on the couch.

Lola walks across the living room, stopping just in front of the fireplace. Her hair falls tangled and gorgeous across her eyes. She’s changed into some form-hugging pajamas, the sort of clothes that make it so I have to fight tooth and nail to stop myself from leaping across the room and claiming her all over again.

After we shared the cocoa, Lola went to Kayley’s bedroom with her. I came here, sitting with Hunter, wondering at the mess my life has become.

Yet I refuse to regret anything Lola and I have done.

“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip for a moment. “She was really torn up. Ryan’s called her a dozen times, but she won’t answer. She thinks he’s cheating on her. And that that’s why he wouldn’t let her look in the drawer.”

She shivers, walking to the edge of the couch.

“Room for one more?” she asks.

I should tell her that it’s too risky, cuddling up on the couch. Kayley could walk in here at any second and find us intertwined. But it’s late, or early-morning Saturday now, and Kayley seemed pretty wiped out when we came in.

I nod and shuffle sideways. Hunter harrumphs and leaps down, leaving the room, padding away silently before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

Lola slides down next to me, her thigh pressing into my leg through the fabric of my suit pants. I swallow, fire rising up inside of me at the closeness of her.

“Cheating,” she murmurs, resting her head against my chest and closing her eyes. She looks sleepy, her voice coming in breaths. “I just don’t get that.”

“It’s the worst thing a person can do,” I snarl. “Once you make a commitment, you follow it through. If you want to end that commitment, fine. You’re a piece of shit and you don’t deserve to call yourself a man anymore, but fine. But going behind your partner’s back … Fucking hell, it’s unforgivable.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she murmurs.

I move my fingertips through her hair, watching as the shimmers of pleasure move through her. She smiles and shivers with each touch, so alive to our contact it’s like we could sink achingly back into our lust all over again.

I bite down, fighting the urge to slide my hand under her PJs, and feel the heaving heat of her life-giving breasts.

“Of course I feel that way,” I say after a pause. “It’s selfish. It’s pathetic. It’s wrong.”

“Just as wrong as this?” she murmurs.

“This isn’t wrong,” I tell her. “It feels too right. This is just …”

I trail off, searching for the word.

“Complicated?” she offers.

“Yeah,” I say. “This is just complicated.”

“I was worried when she said she walked home,” Lola murmurs, voice sinking deeper and deeper into sleep. She’s talking in that way people do when they’re on the precipice of unconsciousness. “What if Quinn got to her? I don’t know who he’s following. I don’t know what he’s doing. He could be anywhere.”

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