Read Online Trust Me: Matty and Kayla, Book 1 of 3 (The McDaniels Brothers) by Christine Bell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christine Bell
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Fucking. Him?"
"Son, I 'm not going to tell you again,” Mickey said, crossing the ring and gripping the rope between us. “Watch your language or you're going to have a much bigger problem than Kayla on your hands."
"Don't call me son, you piece of shit. You're not my father."
He tipped his head with a grim smile. "Maybe not, but I'm hers and I'm not going to have some little prick talking to her that way in front of me."
The room seemed like it was closing in on me as his words sank in.
Her father.
Kayla James was Mickey Flynn's daughter.
"Jesus, Mick, that wasn't your secret to tell," Kayla said, her already pale face going milky white. "Look, Matty, I-"
I held up a hand and backed out of the roo m, still shaking with rage. So she wasn’t fucking him. Great. At least that meant she wasn’t a total idiot. She couldn’t help who her father was. I was a prime example that you couldn’t choose your parents. But she had the choice to tell me, and she chose not to, over and over again. When would I learn that trusting people was always, always a mistake?
"I don't want to hear it. Everything you've told me u p until now was utter and complete bullshit, so listening to you is a waste of my time."
She was still calling after me as I jogged down the hallway and out the exit.
Chapter Seven
Matty
Please pick up the phone.
Kayla’s latest text blinked up from my phone on the bench beside me and I stuffed it into my pocket. They were coming fast and furious now, along with the phone calls. I probably should’ve turned the thing off, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
But I couldn’t bring myself to answer either.
After a grueling three hours lifting and pounding the bags, even my brothers had gotten sick of my miserable mug and had gone out for drinks with Olivia. Now it was just me, alone in my gym, angry as a wounded bear and wallowing in misery. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I knew Mickey had kids, I’d even seen pictures of them on his desk. A boy and a girl, one looked to be around seven, the other ten at most.
She called him Mickey, not Dad, and they didn’t look alike. At least, not enough that I noted a resemblance. And at least two times she mentioned mee ting him when she was thirteen.
If I’d missed the clues it was only because there weren’t any. There was no denying Kayla had done her best to make sure that I stayed in the dark about her relationship to Mickey. I had to wonder if she ever planned to tell me. And then I had to wonder what I would’ve done if she had.
I stood and punched the bag one more time for good measure. Maybe tonight would be a night of discovery for me all around. I’d go out and discover what it felt like to get rip-roaring drunk for the first time in my life.
I swiped the sweat from my forehead with a towel just as the phone in my pocket buzzed again. Ignoring it, I took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top when I heard a loud banging noise from downstairs. Backtracking, I could feel my blood-pressure rising. Maybe Mickey had decided to revisit an old favorite and sent his goons to break in again. I’d been so caught up in my feelings and the look on Kayla’s face, I hadn’t even considered how old Mick was handling things. He could easily have decided that I’d overstepped my station. That blood was thicker than money and now, instead of wanting to be in business with me, he’d be better off if I disappeared. For good.
I probably should’ve been scared, but I was so over Mickey Flynn and all his bullshit, part of me relished the thought of sending his flying monkeys home with broken wings just to see what he would do.
I reached the bottom of the steps and the sound came again. Banging, but like fists on the door. Just in case, I grabbed a baseball bat I kept behind the front desk and made for the door. My phone buzzed again right as I reached it and peered through the glass. Kayla stood there, rain pelting her
"Son, I 'm not going to tell you again,” Mickey said, crossing the ring and gripping the rope between us. “Watch your language or you're going to have a much bigger problem than Kayla on your hands."
"Don't call me son, you piece of shit. You're not my father."
He tipped his head with a grim smile. "Maybe not, but I'm hers and I'm not going to have some little prick talking to her that way in front of me."
The room seemed like it was closing in on me as his words sank in.
Her father.
Kayla James was Mickey Flynn's daughter.
"Jesus, Mick, that wasn't your secret to tell," Kayla said, her already pale face going milky white. "Look, Matty, I-"
I held up a hand and backed out of the roo m, still shaking with rage. So she wasn’t fucking him. Great. At least that meant she wasn’t a total idiot. She couldn’t help who her father was. I was a prime example that you couldn’t choose your parents. But she had the choice to tell me, and she chose not to, over and over again. When would I learn that trusting people was always, always a mistake?
"I don't want to hear it. Everything you've told me u p until now was utter and complete bullshit, so listening to you is a waste of my time."
She was still calling after me as I jogged down the hallway and out the exit.
Chapter Seven
Matty
Please pick up the phone.
Kayla’s latest text blinked up from my phone on the bench beside me and I stuffed it into my pocket. They were coming fast and furious now, along with the phone calls. I probably should’ve turned the thing off, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
But I couldn’t bring myself to answer either.
After a grueling three hours lifting and pounding the bags, even my brothers had gotten sick of my miserable mug and had gone out for drinks with Olivia. Now it was just me, alone in my gym, angry as a wounded bear and wallowing in misery. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I knew Mickey had kids, I’d even seen pictures of them on his desk. A boy and a girl, one looked to be around seven, the other ten at most.
She called him Mickey, not Dad, and they didn’t look alike. At least, not enough that I noted a resemblance. And at least two times she mentioned mee ting him when she was thirteen.
If I’d missed the clues it was only because there weren’t any. There was no denying Kayla had done her best to make sure that I stayed in the dark about her relationship to Mickey. I had to wonder if she ever planned to tell me. And then I had to wonder what I would’ve done if she had.
I stood and punched the bag one more time for good measure. Maybe tonight would be a night of discovery for me all around. I’d go out and discover what it felt like to get rip-roaring drunk for the first time in my life.
I swiped the sweat from my forehead with a towel just as the phone in my pocket buzzed again. Ignoring it, I took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the top when I heard a loud banging noise from downstairs. Backtracking, I could feel my blood-pressure rising. Maybe Mickey had decided to revisit an old favorite and sent his goons to break in again. I’d been so caught up in my feelings and the look on Kayla’s face, I hadn’t even considered how old Mick was handling things. He could easily have decided that I’d overstepped my station. That blood was thicker than money and now, instead of wanting to be in business with me, he’d be better off if I disappeared. For good.
I probably should’ve been scared, but I was so over Mickey Flynn and all his bullshit, part of me relished the thought of sending his flying monkeys home with broken wings just to see what he would do.
I reached the bottom of the steps and the sound came again. Banging, but like fists on the door. Just in case, I grabbed a baseball bat I kept behind the front desk and made for the door. My phone buzzed again right as I reached it and peered through the glass. Kayla stood there, rain pelting her
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