Free The Rebel's Own (Crimson Romance) by M.O. Kenyan

kept their distance, only talking when they had to, usually about Riley. But they were civil with each other, interacting as acquaintances if not as two people who had made love or had children together. He was just glad she hadn’t drawn up a timetable for his spending time with Riley. Ryan had quickly gotten accustomed to having a family, and he wouldn’t relish being told when or where he had to spend time with his son.
    As Ryan did the laundry, he marveled at the turns his life had taken. He never expected to be here. He had a family and the Rebels had won the AFC East division championships and were headed to the Super Bowl, which was just three days away. In an extremely lucky turn of events, the big game was being held here in Boston this year, so Ryan didn’t have to travel. There was still the dark cloud of his son’s sickness, but Riley was done with the chemo finally and the bone marrow transplant would happen next week. His son would be getting better. With surprise, Ryan realized that for the first time in a long time, he was happy.
    • • •
    “Clara is at it again.” Matt dropped a tabloid on Ryan’s breakfast table.
    “I don’t care.” Ryan’s body was turned towards Riley, trying to sweet talk his son into taking a bite of his breakfast. Riley needed to get his strength up before the doctor could clear him for the procedure. The boy was being stubborn though, so Ryan quickly found himself resorting to bribery. “How about a dirt bike for your birthday?” Riley’s eyes lit up for a second but then gazed at him in suspicion. But after a minute of consideration, his son took a bite of his toast.
    After promising him a gift with each bite, Ryan detected weariness in the droop of his little shoulders, so he cradled Riley in his arms, rubbed his back and hoped he would fall asleep. “He was up all night.”
    “He’s still getting sick?” Matt asked, with a discouraged sigh.
    “Yeah. But in three days, it’s going to be over. The chemo will be done, and then the transplant happens, and he will soon get better,” Ryan said, attempting to encourage himself.
    Matt nodded, his eyes already straying back to the magazine on the table. “You don’t want to know what Clara did this time.”
    Ryan shook his head. He already knew what the little bitch was capable of. She had not only somehow gotten her hands on and released the elevator sex tape and the picture of Matt giving Kennedy money, but she’d been running her mouth to the tabloids, accused him of having many other affairs and lovers. He had ceased caring about what she was doing or planning on doing.
    “I do,” Kennedy said as she walked into the kitchen, exhaustion etched on her features. She looked at their son. “He’s asleep.”
    “That’s good; you should also get some sleep,” Ryan said, as his hand halted its work.
    “I’m fine. In fact, you shouldn’t have let me sleep that long.”
    “You need your rest, especially since you are going to have him on your own for the afternoon,” he whispered.
    “My mom is coming over. I was wondering if she could come and stay for a while, with the game coming up. She could help and you could get a full night’s rest.” Kennedy didn’t sound sure and that only enforced the fear that Ryan felt.
    “I know we only got married in a little chapel in Vegas, but this house is half yours. You can do whatever you want,” Ryan said as he quickly retreated to avoid the usual argument that followed.
    He knew it by heart by now and waited for Kennedy to follow him, only to tell him that their marriage was just temporary, that she was leaving with both children once Riley was better. He waited for her to tell him that they were from different worlds that they didn’t fit together. The comment that usually ended the conversation was that he was trying to be something he wasn’t. A caring, loving, and responsible husband and father he was not. He was Ryan Carville, the high school boy who had