The Rebel's Own(12)
• • •
“Matt, what is this?” Ryan kicked in Matt’s office door and tossed the tabloid at him.
“Don’t need yours; I’ve got my own copy.” Matt grimaced. “I can explain.”
“Explain what? Are you also sleeping with her?” Ryan couldn’t suppress the rage that was boiling through him. He couldn’t imagine any other man—let alone Matt—touching Bailey the way he did.
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not? She’s sexy?” He goaded Matt, perversely offended now.
Matt’s expression turned foreboding. He looked almost sheepish, as he said quietly, “Her name is also Kennedy Bailey, your prom sacrifice.”
“What?” Ryan dropped into the chair next to him. Her name is also Kennedy Bailey, your prom sacrifice. The words rang in Ryan’s ears as memories of the gawky heavyset girl with braids flashed in his mind. He had trouble reconciling the image with the sexpot who’d introduced herself as Bailey, though the name alone should have been a giveaway. “What? Why did she do this? Did she want money?”
“Yes, and she also wanted your sperm.”
His jaw dropped. So he’d been right after all. It was a scheme, a set-up. “She wants to trap me?”
“She wants nothing to do with you.” Matt chuckled briefly as if the idea of Ryan being rejected was funny, but Ryan didn’t think it was amusing at all. “She wants another kid by you so that she can save the one you gave her in high school.”
The one he gave her in high school? Ryan stared into Matt’s gaze and felt his stomach flip over. For a split second, the thought—he hoped in vain—that this was just a joke, a sick joke his friend had decided to play on him. But Matt’s eyes didn’t hold their usual humor. “You are serious, aren’t you?”
Matt nodded. “You have a five-year-old son. Riley.”
Ryan thought he felt his heart drop from his chest into his stomach. He had a son. “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” He stared at his best friend as if he was seeing him for the first time.
“Not long. She forced me not to tell you, threatened to tell the press. I had to think of your career, your endorsements. I had to protect you, Ry.”
Ryan shook his head and regarded his friend in a new light. Matt had betrayed him. The one person he was supposed to trust with his life had betrayed him.
• • •
Ryan stumbled into his house, his eyes focusing on everything and nothing at the same time. He took a swig from his bottle of whiskey, then cradled it to his chest. He had a kid and possibly another baby on the way. He knew that he should probably be with Bailey—Kennedy—at that moment, demanding answers, but she wasn’t in the phone book, and he had no idea where she lived. He wished that she had told him about this herself. Five years ago. But he couldn’t blame her for protecting herself and their son. He was sick. He was the worst father and probably the worst human being that ever walked the earth.
And he was angry at Kennedy. Then he was angry at himself for being angry. What other choice had he given her? He had skipped town right after prom. It was his fault that they were both in this situation, that his son grew up without a father and that he was sick. Ryan crawled into bed and let sleep take over. He was too exhausted, hurt and angry to do anything else but sleep.
The next morning, his head pounded with each stride that he took. He swallowed the bile burning the back of his throat and tried to ignore the pain in his temples. Ryan didn’t know how he was going to survive practice, while the excesses of the previous night sent pain like shards of glass into his skull.
“Ryan, I found her.”
“Where did you come from?” His hands flew to his ears to try and regulate the piercing excitement in Matt’s voice, peering at his friend who loomed over the foot of the bed.
“You gave me a key.”
“Give it back! You are no friend of mine.”
“I am your best friend. I found them, Ryan.” It took his hungover mind a minute to understand what Matt was telling him, “You found Bailey and Riley?”
“I did. This hot number at the bank helped me. Of course, I had to ask her on a date and bribe her with Rebel championship tickets and she—”
“MATT!”
“Sorry, I’ve got an address.”
“Let’s go.”
“You’ve got practice, Ryan. And the championship in two weeks. If you aren’t here every single day, they’ll give your spot to that new kid they just traded for. You worked too hard for this, bro. Don’t throw it away now.”
“Are you going to give me the address?”