Forgiven – Con (The Four #3) Read Online Sloane Kennedy

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Four Series by Sloane Kennedy
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
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“You were in an impossible position,” I continued. “You were trying to respect Lex's privacy just like you were trying to protect me from the realization that for once, I couldn’t fix things for him. That I was helpless. That we were all helpless.”

I paused for a moment before continuing with, “I trusted you from the moment we met. The truth is, I idolized you. You were so strong and confident. All the shit we saw when we were kids and it was like you were… untouchable. It didn’t matter who got in your face or who tried to fuck with you, you looked them all straight in the eye and told them to do their best. You didn’t let any of it break you.”

King remained silent. If I hadn’t known him better, I would have said he was unmoved by my words, but I did know him. I knew that when he took a swig of his beer and scanned the woods around us, he wasn’t doing it just because he was on alert for any threat that might appear. My words had made him uncomfortable. But I couldn’t say if it was because he didn’t like the idea of being on any kind of pedestal or if it was because he knew I was leading up to something he wasn’t going to like hearing.

I pulled in a breath and forced myself to continue. “We promised each other that we’d never lie to each other. Do you remember that?”

King nodded. One of his fingers began to tap incessantly on the neck of the bottle of beer. The nervous gesture made my heart hurt.

“But we have, haven't we?” I asked. King still had his eyes on the trees. “Lies by omission aren’t any different, are they?”

“No. No, they aren't,” King finally said. It was the resounding way he said the words that confirmed what I’d already suspected.

King had just as many secrets as I did. Probably even more.

“Micah told me that there are things that are our right to tell or not. He's right, but that's not why I kept this from you for so long. I was ashamed and humiliated. I believed it was my fault and I didn't want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Con—” King said with a shake of his head. I knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to give me an out. He probably wanted to give himself one too because I could see he was already on edge.

“It’s like there’s these holes inside of me, King,” I whispered. “And I’ve been building my life around these fucking holes for so fucking long and I just… I don’t want to do it anymore. The one with Brady and Micah… that one’s never going to completely heal. I know that. And the stuff with my mom, I can’t change any of that so I have to figure out how to just let it go. But the others… the ones where it wasn’t my fault—” I stopped abruptly because my throat felt so tight, I was sure I wasn’t going to be able to breathe.

“Tell me, brother,” I heard King say. His voice was firm, but it wasn’t a demand. It was more of a plea.

I managed to lift my eyes for a moment. I could tell by the way King was holding himself that he already had some idea of what I was going to say. His fingers were wrapped tight around his bottle of beer, tight enough that I was pretty sure it would shatter at any moment.

“I was always on alert. It didn’t matter if I was in the group home or a foster, I always had eyes in the back of my head. But that day… I don't know what happened. Maybe it was because I was outside or maybe it was because I was still thinking about that last layup that let me finally beat your ass for once. I don’t know,” I said with a shake of my head.

“One second it was just me and then the next, he was there.” I felt the pressure in my chest increase so I tried to imagine that Micah was sitting right next to me, his fingers curled around mine.

I closed my eyes and said, “He had a knife. He smelled like cigarettes, engine oil, and lemons. I didn't see his face. I don't know how old he was. But I can remember every sound he made, I can still feel his fingers biting into my skin and his hot breath against my ear. He called me his little faggot boy. I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even tell him no. I couldn’t move because of that fucking knife.”

I was aware of King moving, but I couldn't find the strength to look up at him. I sensed rather than saw King pacing back and forth at the foot of the steps.


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