12 #2
I couldn’t help but laugh. I felt bad for her, but the way she was reacting was just too funny. “It’s okay,” I managed between laughs. “If it hadn’t been for you getting busy on the couch, Nash and I would’ve never hooked up.”
She dropped her hands and peered down at me skeptically. “Seriously?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re not just saying that to make me feel a little better?”
“No.” I shook my head, grinning.
She let out a long breath, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Thank God something good came out of that.”
We both burst into laughter, the tension melting away.
“Because it was good, right?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows. “I mean, I can’t imagine someone who looks like that wouldn’t be good.”
“Oh, it was good,” I confirmed.
“Yeah?” Her large hazel eyes lit up, and she studied me like she was waiting for details.
“Oh, yeah. Incredible.”
“Oh my God,” she squealed, pulling me into another fierce hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Sammy. I’m pretty happy for me too . . . but a little nervous.”
She pulled back, her expression softening. “About what?”
“I guess . . . about me and Nash. What this means for the future.”
The more I said it out loud, the tighter my stomach knotted.
This had the potential to ruin everything. If this went south, what would happen to us?
And just like that, the doubt crept in.
What if it meant more to me than to him?
What if this was just another fling to him? Nash could have anyone—had had anyone. Women threw themselves at him every day of the week.
My insecurities weren’t just about Nash.
They went all the way back to high school, when my brother, Nash, and his brother had made it their mission to keep boys far away from me.
The one guy who did dare to take me out only did it to spite my brother.
Not exactly a stellar beginning to my dating life.
Sammy’s smile softened as she picked up on my growing anxiety. “Hey,” she said, placing a hand on my arm. “Kenny, slow down a second.” Her voice was suddenly serious as she forced me to meet her gaze. “Come on.” She led me over to the couch, where we sat down next to each other. “Talk to me.”
My mind went back to the first time I’d watched my world crumble.
It’d been freshman year. Nash’s interest had already shifted from hanging out with only me to other girls, but that was the first time I’d seen him publicly hook up with Lindsay.
I could still see it—her body pressed shamelessly against his, his hands gripping her ass, his mouth devouring hers while I just stood there frozen, my dreams shattering beneath my feet.
I exhaled and pulled my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. “Do you understand how hard it was to watch him go through girl after girl?”
She nodded slowly. “I have an idea.”
“It sucked.”
“Mm-hmm.” She waited for more.
“I wanted to be those girls, Sammy,” I admitted, not caring how pathetic it sounded. “Every time he was with someone new, it hurt. I was jealous. So jealous . . .”
I got back up and started pacing, unable to sit still with the knot of emotions tightening in my chest.
Sammy watched me quietly.
“And I’m still jealous,” I whispered. “Of all those models and beautiful women he’s been with.”
“Ken,” Sammy said softly. “I get that. And I know you’ve been all about him since you were kids. But it’s different now.”
“Maybe—”
She didn’t let me finish. “No maybe. He looked very happy and very comfortable with you this morning. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I mean, he kissed you like he wanted to go back in the bedroom instead of leaving for practice.”
That made me smile. “You think?”
Sammy rolled her eyes. “Yes, Kennedy. Guys don’t act like that if they’re just after a hit-it-and-quit-it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What else?” she asked quietly. “What’s really holding you back?”
I sighed and sank back onto the couch, gathering my thoughts. “I’m afraid,” I admitted quietly.
“Why?”
The tears threatened, but I blinked them back. Sammy wrapped her arms around me.
“Why?” she asked once more, her voice soft but insistent.
“Because . . .” I swallowed hard, my voice trembling. “It’s not just that I like him, Sammy.” My eyes burned, my throat tight as I finally said it out loud. “I love him. More than anything. And I have for as long as I can remember.”
“Which means,” she said gently, “he has the power to hurt you. Again.”
I could only nod.
Sammy swept my hair out of my face, tilting her head so she could meet my gaze without me looking away.
“Then talk to him,” she whispered. “Be honest. Tell him what you want.”
The doorbell rang, and Sammy went to answer it. “I guess Keith forgot something,” she muttered, but her tone quickly changed once she opened the door. “Oh my God,” she squealed. “Thank you so much!”
“You have a pleasant day. Enjoy them,” came another voice—a deep, warm baritone I didn’t recognize.
I sat up straighter, turning my head just in time to see Sammy walk into the living room with a huge bouquet of red roses. The smile on her face was almost as big.
“Keith sent you flowers?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“I have no idea.”
She set the bouquet on the table and began tearing off the paper in search of a card. When she found it, she ripped it open, her eyes widening as she read it. Slowly, her gaze lifted to meet mine. “They’re not for me. They’re for you.”
My breath caught. “From who?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Sammy’s lips curved into a slow smile as she held out the card. “From Nash.”
I took the card and flipped it over. The words hit like a punch to the chest: For the only woman who has ever mattered. I can’t wait to see you later. —Nash.
“Oh my God.” My voice cracked, my throat tightening as tears filled my eyes. I blinked furiously, trying but failing to stop them from spilling over.
Sammy walked into the kitchen to grab the only vase we had from the cabinet.
“I can’t believe he just said that,” I murmured, still staring at the card like it might change if I looked at it long enough.
“Yeah, he did.” Sammy began arranging the roses, but when she turned back to me, her expression was serious. “So, get your shit together, because you have a date to go on later.”
“Sam,” I groaned, wiping at my cheeks, “I look like shit.”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “which is why I said to get your shit together.”
She set the vase down in front of me. The roses were a bright, beautiful red, and she pointed at them like they were evidence in a trial.
“Look at that. He just told you he cares more about you than anyone else and sent you the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen.
And let’s not forget those season tickets.
” She raised her brows. “Ken. What the hell are you even worried about?”