Fakers (19 page)

“But so descriptive.”

“Are you just wanting to be punched in the
face or something? Cause if you keep this up, I’ll be happy to
oblige,” Kyra snarled.

“See?” Hale exclaimed, surprising her so
much that she jumped in her seat. “Now that’s honest. Why can’t you
just say that from the very beginning and get it over with?”

She groaned and shook her head. “You’re
impossible. When we first met, I was trying to understand you. I
didn’t want to judge you because Cade had asked me not to.”

“He really asked you to be nice to me?” The
taco paused on its way to Hale’s mouth. He seemed genuinely
bewildered that his brother would stand up for him.

“He asked me to cut you some slack, which I
did. Not that you noticed. You were awful to me.”

“I was mean because you were acting so fake
all the time. It pissed me off.”

Kyra tossed her taco on the plate and threw
her hands in the air. “I was being fake because you gave me no
reason to actually, sincerely be nice to you!”

“Well, would you call me out now when I’m
being a jerk?”

“Oh, yeah.” Kyra nodded enthusiastically as
she picked her taco up and took a bite.

“Then that’s what I call progress.” Hale
grinned at her.

Kyra laughed then, her anger fading away. He
made her laugh a few more times as they finished their meal. They
quickly did the dishes before she tried to call Stevie again.

“Still no answer?”

She shook her head at his question. “I think
her phone must be dead or something.”

“Okay. Let’s go find her.” Hale wiped his
wet hands on his jeans before heading to the door.

With a sigh, she followed. She wasn’t
looking forward to this conversation with Stevie. It felt wrong
coming from her; she had unhealthy ways of coping too. Methods that
she hadn’t entirely fixed since she still hadn’t contacted a
therapist here on Canaan Island. Talking to Stevie about her
drinking likely made Kyra the biggest hypocrite in the world, but
she didn’t want to see her friend struggle. She hoped Hale would
stay with her and help her, but she had her doubts about that.
Besides, it probably needed to be just between her and Stevie. Hale
was right: Kyra was the only one who cared in Stevie’s life.

“Hit that light, will ya?” He turned around
to point at the light switch over her shoulder, but she was
following so closely that he bumped into her. He reached out and
caught her as she stumbled back.

His hands didn’t move away when she righted
herself. Kyra twisted around to turn off the light like he asked.
The trailer went dark, save for the streams of moonlight coming
through the tiny windows. The music was off now, and she heard only
the cicadas outside.

His hands skimmed across her back, pulling
her closer and winding up her shirt. The rough, cracked pads of his
fingers scraped across her skin and sent chills down her arms.
Without even realizing it, Kyra bowed her body into his, twining
her hands up his neck and into his hair.

He kissed her then, pressing her back
against the counter. She couldn’t help the quivering, dipping
sensation in her stomach as he worked his lips over hers. His
tongue threaded into her mouth and took control. When he pressed
against her hips, she felt how hard he was through his jeans. The
warmth from her stomach bottomed out and pooled between her legs,
soaking her panties.

She was panting when he eased back, leaving
her lips parted and swollen from his kiss. “You didn’t tell me you
were a virgin,” he said, his voice low and rasping. Kyra
trembled.

“No,” she whispered.

Hale unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them
off her hips so that they pooled at her ankles. Without pause, he
stroked his fingers between her legs, feeling her wetness through
her panties. He pushed the material aside and slipped two fingers
inside her. With his thumb, he traced lazy circles around her clit
while he pulsed in and out of her.

“Had anyone used his fingers on you before
me?” Hale hissed the question into her ear.

Kyra couldn’t speak. She rocked against his
fingers, feeling the fullness inside her but aching for more. He
was getting her close, but he slowed and waited for her answer.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice cracking.

Hale frowned, not liking her answer. He
growled and sped his fingers back up until Kyra came. She arched
into him, letting her head fall back as the orgasm rocked through
her. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, her body vibrating
with electricity.

“Has anyone made you feel like that
before?”

Kyra looked back at Hale, his expression
wild in the darkness as he watched her. “No. Never that.”

Hale slipped his fingers out of her, and
Kyra heard how wet she was. He ran his hands underneath her shirt,
leaving a moist trail on her stomach, and cupped her breasts,
working his thumbs over her nipples until she felt another ripple
through her core.

“What do you want to do, Kyra?”

This was a test, she knew. He wanted her to
be honest and to be present. He wanted the truth in this moment.
She swiveled her hips against his erection, thinking about what she
wanted. Hale seemed to know she was gauging herself so he stayed
quiet and still. She pulled her hand away from his neck, where
she’d been clinging for dear life, and rubbed her palm down the
front part of his jeans. He hissed out a breath when she took him
in her hand, measuring his heft. What did she want?

Her eyes flicked up to his. A tiny smirk
pulled at her lips. “I want to suck your dick.”

Hale’s mouth parted slightly, and Kyra knew
she’d taken him by surprise. His nostrils flared and he nodded. She
began to sink to the floor just as her phone rang.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he
growled as she stood back up. He turned away and rocked his shaking
hands through his short hair. Seeing how undone he was made her
smile secretly behind his back. She picked up her phone.

“Hello?” Her voice surprised her. Even she
could tell it was thick with lust.

But all that fell away as she listened to
the person on the other end. Hale seemed to notice too. He turned
back around and looked at her, his expression changing.

“Who is it?” he mouthed. Kyra listened for a
moment longer before she responded.

“The hospital.”

eighteen

K
yra saw the video
cameras before she saw Stevie. Two burly guys with pit stains held
the massive, expensive equipment in their oversized hands in the
hospital’s hallway. She hurried past them, shooting glares they
didn’t notice, on her way to the nurses’ station with Hale hot on
her heels.

“Um…excuse me.” She cleared her throat.
Hospitals made her queasy, as if the sickness was something that
could force itself down her throat; her hand was locked over her
left wrist, wringing her bracelets for all she was worth. A nurse
looked up at Kyra’s shaky voice. “I need to see Stevie Andrews. Do
you know how she’s doing? I, um, don’t know who to talk to.”

“Her family is in there with her now. You’ll
have to come back tomorrow.” The nurse looked back down at the
computer while phones rang around her.

Kyra almost burst into tears. “But can you
tell me how she’s doing at least?”

The nurse looked up with a bored, dismissive
expression. “No. I can’t.”

“But—”

“Is Dr. Faraday here?” Hale stepped from
around Kyra. He towered over the nurses’ station. Something about
the way his muscles tightly corded beneath his shirt or the way he
loomed over the partition or even the spark in his eye set the
nurse in motion. She blinked.

“Yes.”

“Can you page him?”

“I can’t just—”

“Page him.”

“Yes, sir.” The nurse turned away and picked
up a phone to page the doctor.

“Who’s Dr. Faraday?” Kyra asked quietly, so
only Hale would hear.

“Mom’s doctor. Bit of a hippie, but a good
guy,” he said. Now that he wasn’t talking to the nurse, Kyra
noticed the paleness of his face and the way his shoulders slumped
slightly. Without thinking, she took his hand and squeezed.

They had to wait only a moment before a
tall, lanky guy in a white coat that nearly swallowed him came down
the hall. His hair was too long and flopped into his eyes, but he
smiled when he saw them. Before he was even close enough, he stuck
out his hand to shake Hale’s.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Hale said, shaking the doctor’s
hand. “Ethan, this is Kyra. Kyra, this is Ethan.”

“Good to meet ya, Kyra.” Ethan Faraday
nodded at her before he shoved his hair out of his face. “What’s
up?”

“Kyra’s friend was brought in earlier. Car
accident.”

Ethan ran his hand over his face. “Oh, yeah.
She’s pretty banged up, but she’s stable. The ER doc took care of
her. Couple broken ribs from the seat belt and a few wicked
lacerations.”

Kyra grimaced, forcing the pool of hot
saliva back down her throat. “Can I please see her?”

Ethan thought for a moment before he nodded.
“Sure. Let me get her parents out of there and check on her. Come
by in five.”

“Thanks, Ethan.” Hale shook the doctor’s
hand again before he walked away. Kyra watched him disappear into a
room she could only assume was Stevie’s. The tears were stirring
again when she looked back at Hale.

“I should’ve gone to find her earlier,” she
said, her voice cracking. “I should’ve talked to her sooner about
this, but I kept convincing myself that it wasn’t my place.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug; it wasn’t the
condolence she was expecting. “But that’s not how it happened. We
just have to deal with what did.”

She would’ve preferred a hug, but he was
right. She couldn’t change what had happened no matter how much she
wanted to. Just then, a well-dressed man and woman left Stevie’s
room. The woman was shockingly skinny with dry, brittle hair and
too-full lips. Her makeup was flawless and her clothes expensive.
The man had flashy tattoos and wild hair that was obviously
painstakingly styled. As they walked out, the cameramen snapped to
attention and hustled behind the couple, filming them as they
walked away from their daughter’s room.

“That’s disgusting,” Kyra said, balling her
fists at her sides. “How could they bring cameras into a
hospital?”

“How did they get down here so fast?” Hale
asked.

“I have no idea. Don’t they live in Los
Angeles?” She watched Stevie’s parents walk around the corner of
the hall. If she wanted to see Stevie, now was her time. “Come on,
let’s go.”

She slipped down the hall to Stevie’s room
and knocked softly on the door before she went in. The room was
dark, with only a small light on so that Ethan could read Stevie’
vitals. He nodded when they walked up.

“Oh, Stevie,” Kyra said, reaching for her
best friend’s hand.

“That bad, huh?” Stevie asked. She tried to
grin, but the motion pulled at the stitches lining the side of her
mouth. Another gash stretched vertically down her left eyebrow.
Scratches were scattered across her pasty skin where the glass had
broken around her.

“No, it’s not bad at all.” She squeezed
Stevie’s hand as she settled softly down on the bed beside her.

“You’re an awful liar.” Stevie snorted, but
it only dislodged the oxygen tubes under her nostrils. Before she
could reach up and readjust it, Hale stepped forward and helped
her, handling the delicate tubes like a pro. “Thanks, Hale.”

“No problem.”

Stevie looked so small in the hospital bed.
Her red hair was a tangled mess behind her, and her gown was
crooked. Smudged makeup amplified the bruises on her face. Even
with her tan, she still looked too pale.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Kyra whispered,
her throat thick.

“I’m gonna have to agree with you on that
one.” Stevie shifted in bed, grimacing when the movement caused her
pain.

“What happened? Why didn’t you get a
cab?”

Stevie’s eyes fell to the thin, scratchy
sheet covering her legs. “I thought I had it under control. I feel
like a piece of shit. What if I had hit someone? How would I have
dealt with that?”

“You got really lucky,” Hale said from over
Kyra’s shoulder. She shot him a look when Stevie groaned.

“But it didn’t happen,” Kyra said quickly
before her friend could start crying. “So let’s focus on that.”

“Always so optimistic,” Stevie mumbled.

“We make a good pair since you’re so
doom-and-gloom.” Kyra was the only one who tried to laugh at her
joke.

She took a deep breath, her nerves making
her hands clammy. She needed to talk to Stevie about her drinking,
but Kyra felt like she’d failed her friend by not doing it sooner.
And she felt like a fraud.

“Stevie, I think you need to go to rehab.
You need help before you hurt yourself worse.”

Stevie’s eyes flickered away to look out the
window where night had fallen. A drizzle of rain slicked down the
glass. “Have you been talking to my parents?” she asked with a
halfhearted laugh. “They said the same thing.”

“They want to make sure you’re healthy and
safe,” Kyra said, regretting her earlier judgments; Stevie’s
parents couldn’t be so awful if they had wanted what was best for
their daughter.

As if Stevie read her thoughts, she said,
“Oh, please. They want to make a buck. They told me I had to go to
a rehab they picked and bring the cameras for a reality show
spinoff about my recovery and our reconciliation. The network even
sent them down here on a jet to arrange it all.”

Kyra’s regrets vanished just as quickly as
they’d appeared, and she bristled. “That’s horrible and awful. And,
like, really, really…just…
bullshit
.”

“Yeah, well they said they would stop
sending me money and all that,” Stevie mumbled. Her fingers pulled
at the thin bed sheets. “Not that they sent me much anyway, but I
don’t make that much from my photography. They’re completely broke
though. I think the network was going to pay for my rehab if I
agreed to the show.”