15. Amelia
Chapter fifteen
Amelia
I pulled into the driveway, the scent of flowers still clinging to my clothes from the wedding delivery. I was thankful that my ankle seemed to be feeling much better. The distinctive pop and splatter of paintball guns echoed from the backyard, reminding me of my promise to Trevor.
Rounding the corner of the house, I stopped short. Trevor, Frank, Danny, and... Mike? They were all engaged in a lively paintball battle, laughter and shouts punctuating the air. Mike's presence surprised me, given the frosty reception he'd given Trevor recently. Apparently, things had thawed between them.
Trevor spotted me and jogged over, his face flushed and paint-splattered, a boyish grin stretching ear to ear. "Amelia! You made it back!" He wiped a smear of blue paint off his cheek. "How's the ankle holding up? Still game to join us?"
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my reservations. I'd agreed to this madness, hadn't I? My competitive spirit stirred. "Well, it's not every day a girl gets invited to a paintball war. I suppose I can't back out now, can I?"
"That's the spirit!" Trevor's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We'll go easy on you... maybe." He winked, and I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the little flip my heart did.
"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots, tough guy." I quirked an eyebrow at him. "I might surprise you."
"Bring it on, flower girl." Trevor's grin turned challenging. "Let's see what you've got."
As he led me toward the makeshift paintball field, I couldn't help but marvel at the change in the group's dynamic. Mike, who had been so hostile, now joked and laughed with the others. Trevor had a knack for mending fences, it seemed—a knack I sometimes envied.
I took a deep breath, pushing down the flutters of nerves and excitement. This was outside my comfort zone, but I looked forward to the game—time to show these boys what a florist could do.
Trevor helped me into a safety vest, his hands gentle as he adjusted the straps. "So, about Mike," he began, his voice low, meant only for my ears. "We had a long talk. Cleared the air, you know? He's been going through some stuff, but we're good now."
I nodded, glancing over at Mike, who was engrossed in a debate about the best paintball strategy with Danny. The tension that had once radiated from him was replaced by an easy camaraderie. "That's great, Trevor. I'm glad you two worked things out."
"Me too." Trevor's smile was soft, grateful. "It means a lot, having the guys here. Feeling that connection again."
"You're lucky to have them," I said quietly, fiddling with the strap of my safety glasses.
Trevor's hand stilled mine, his fingers warm against my skin. "I'm lucky to have you too, Amelia. Don't forget that."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I ducked my head, a smile tugging at my lips. "Flatterer."
"Just stating facts, ma'am." Trevor's grin was playful, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Now, let's get you ready, shall we?"
He handed me a paintball gun, the weight of which was unfamiliar to me. "Okay, so this is your trigger, and this is your safety." Trevor pointed out the various parts of the gun, his explanations clear and concise. "Remember, aim for center mass. And don't be afraid to pull the trigger. It's all about quick reflexes."
I nodded, trying to absorb the information. It seemed simple enough. Point and shoot. How hard could it be?
My first attempt at shooting was a disaster. The gun kicked back, catching me off guard, and the paintball flew wide, splattering against a tree trunk a good ten feet from my intended target. The guys erupted into good-natured laughter, and my face flushed with embarrassment.
"Nice one, Amelia!" Frank called out, grinning from ear to ear. "You showed that tree who's boss!"
"Hey, that tree had it coming!" I retorted, trying to salvage my dignity. "It was looking at me funny."
Trevor chuckled, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. Here, let me show you."
He moved behind me, his arms coming around to adjust my grip on the gun. I was suddenly very aware of his proximity, the heat of his body seeping into mine. Focus, Amelia.
"Like this," Trevor murmured, his breath tickling my ear. "Relax your shoulders, take a deep breath, and squeeze the trigger. Don't pull."
I followed his instructions, acutely conscious of every point of contact between us. This time, when I pulled the trigger, the paintball flew straight, hitting the edge of the target. It wasn't a bullseye, but it was a vast improvement.
"There you go!" Trevor's praise was warm and proud. "You're a natural."
I turned my head, finding his face inches from mine. "I had a good teacher," I said softly, holding his gaze.
“Come on, you two,” Danny called out for us to hurry up and join the game.
"Ready to show these guys what you're made of?" Trevor asked, his voice slightly rough.
I grinned, pushing down the flutters in my stomach. "Let's do this."
As the game progressed, I found myself getting more and more into it. The initial hesitation and awkwardness faded, replaced by a thrilling exhilaration. I ducked behind trees, rolled across the ground, and fired paintballs more accurately. It was liberating to be able to let loose like this and forget about the worries and responsibilities of everyday life.
And then, it happened. I spotted Trevor across the field, his attention focused on Mike. He hadn't seen me yet. Heart pounding, I raised my gun, took aim, and fired.
The paintball hit Trevor square in the chest, splattering bright blue across his vest. For a moment, he looked stunned. Then, slowly, he turned to face me, his expression a mix of shock and admiration.
"Nice shot, Amelia!" Frank called out, grinning broadly.
Trevor clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back a few steps. "Amelia, how could you?" he said, his voice filled with pretend betrayal.
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. The sight of Trevor, always so composed and in control, splattered with paint and pretending to be mortally wounded, was too much. He looked ridiculous and adorable, all at the same time.
Trevor's lips twitched, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Oh, it's on now," he said, raising his gun.
And just like that, the paintball war escalated.
"Getting tired yet, old man?" I called out, ducking behind a tree.
"Old? I'll show you old," Trevor retorted, firing off a series of shots that had me scrambling for cover.
I was breathless with laughter, my cheeks aching from smiling so much. This was a side of Trevor I'd never seen before - playful, carefree, entirely in the moment.
A sudden, sharp, popping sound broke the spell. I whirled around just in time to see a paintball explode against my prized rosebush, splattering bright blue paint across the delicate petals.
"Oh no," Trevor muttered, lowering his gun. "Amelia, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"
But before he could finish, the others had already sprung into action. They rushed over to the bush, frantically trying to wipe away the paint with their hands and sleeves.
"Maybe she won't notice," Danny said, his voice hopeful.
I bit my lip, trying to hide my laughter as I watched them. They looked so panicked, so desperate to fix the damage before I could see it.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I cleared my throat, and four heads snapped up to look at me, their expressions a mix of guilt and dread.
"I saw that you know," I said, fighting to keep my face stern.
There was a beat of silence. Then, like a dam breaking, we all burst into laughter. It bubbled up from my chest, uncontrollable and infectious until tears streamed down my face and my sides ached.
As the laughter died down, I realized that any tension from the incident had melted away. Looking around at their paint-splattered faces, I felt a surge of affection for these men - for Trevor, who had brought them into my life.
The sun started setting, casting a golden glow over the backyard. "I think it's time to call it quits," Trevor said, wiping a hand across his forehead and leaving a smear of paint behind.
We gathered in a circle, admiring each other's colorful appearances. "Frank, you look like a Jackson Pollock painting," Mike teased, pointing at the abstract splatters covering Frank's chest.
"Yeah, well, you look like a Smurf," Frank shot back, gesturing to the blue paint in Mike's hair.
As the guys continued to joke and rib each other, Trevor turned to me. His eyes softened as he reached out, gently wiping a streak of paint from my cheek with his thumb.
"You've got a little something there," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.
Trevor's hand lingered on my face, his calloused fingers barely grazing my skin. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch, close the distance between us, and taste the smile on his lips.
But I didn't. Instead, I reached up, my fingers brushing against his as I wiped a paint spot from his chin. "So do you," I whispered, my heart pounding.
The moment stretched out between us, fragile and full of promise. Trevor's eyes searched mine, and I wondered if he could see my longing, hope, and fear.
Then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. Trevor stepped back, clearing his throat, and I let my hand drop.
As I walked around the yard, picking up stray paintballs and tossing them into a bucket, I caught snippets of a conversation between Trevor and his friend Donovan.
"...time to move on, man. You can't keep living in the past." Donovan's voice was low but insistent.
Trevor sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. It's just...not that easy, you know?"
"But you've got to try. You deserve to be happy and to have a future. And that future isn't going to be found in the past."
I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest. Were they talking about...me? About us? The thought sent a chill down my spine, and suddenly, I couldn't hear anything over the rushing sound in my ears.
I must have made some noise because Trevor's head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine across the yard. For a moment, we just stared at each other.
Then, I tore my gaze away, mumbling something about needing to check on the rosebushes. I hurried off, my eyes stinging with unshed tears.
As I knelt beside the flowers, my mind raced. Was Trevor planning to leave Rivermint Cove? To leave...me? The thought was like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and aching.
I thought we'd been making progress, that we were building something real and lasting. But now...now, I wasn't so sure.
"Amelia?" Trevor's voice startled me, and I hastily wiped at my eyes before turning to face him.
"Hey." My voice sounded thin and brittle, even to my ears.
"You okay? You look a little pale." Trevor's brow furrowed in concern, and he reached out as if to touch my face.
I flinched back, and his hand dropped to his side. "I'm fine. Just...tired, I guess. It's been a long day."
Trevor nodded, but I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. "Yeah, I guess it has. But it was fun, right?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. It was."
But even as I said the words, I couldn't help but wonder if it was all just a lie. Suppose everything we'd shared and built was nothing more than a house of cards, ready to come tumbling down at the slightest breeze.
I walked back to the house, my ankle twinging with each step, a physical manifestation of the ache in my heart. Inside, the silence felt oppressive, and I couldn't bear to be alone with my thoughts.
Almost without thinking, I reached for my phone and dialed Emily's number. She answered on the second ring, her voice bright and bubbly.
"Hey, Amelia! How's it going?"
I opened my mouth to reply, but the words stuck in my throat. Suddenly, I was fighting back tears, my vision blurring as I tried to speak.
"Em..." I managed, my voice cracking.
"Amelia? What's wrong?" Emily's tone shifted immediately, concern lacing every word.
And then it all came pouring out—the paintball game, the overheard conversation, my fears, doubts, and insecurities. Emily listened patiently, making sympathetic noises and offering words of comfort.
"I just...I don't know what to do," I admitted, my voice small and lost. "I thought we were in a good place, but now I'm not so sure."
"Oh, honey." Emily's voice was gentle and soothing. "I know it's scary, but you can't let your fears control you. You have to talk to him, Amelia. You have to tell him how you feel."
I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. "But what if he doesn't feel the same way? What if he is planning to leave?"
"Then at least you'll know." Emily's voice was firm, unyielding. "But you can't live in limbo like this, Amelia. It's not fair to either of you."
I knew she was right, but the thought of confronting Trevor, laying my heart on the line, and risking rejection terrified me.
Because I'd fallen for him somewhere along the way without even realizing it. Hard. And the thought of losing him now, just when I'd finally found the courage to open my heart again...it was almost too much to bear.