36 #2
“I wish you would’ve believed me, Kennedy. And not him.”
“I do too,” I whispered. “I’m very sorry.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch, the weight of everything pressing down between us. My stomach twisted. I felt beyond stupid and guilty for taking those photos at face value and trusting Josh, not giving Nash a chance to explain.
He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He’d clearly suffered too, maybe even more than I had.
If the rumors were true, he was close to losing his career.
“You look tired, Nash,” I murmured.
“Yeah. I haven’t been sleeping so good lately.” His eyes opened and scanned slowly over me. I felt self-conscious again.
“I’m a mess—” I started, but Nash cut me off with a slow shake of his head.
“No, Kennedy. You look beautiful, like always. And if you’re a mess, it’s because of me.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong, and I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Please, baby . . .” I watched him swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his voice lower. “Tell me about the miscarriage.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, the tears springing to my eyes before I could stop them. My throat tightened painfully as I forced out the question. “How . . . how did you . . .”
“Isaac.”
“Oh.” I should’ve expected that, and part of me had. But now there was no way around it; I had to tell him. He was right here next to me, his warm hand resting on my thigh, moving in slow, reassuring strokes.
“I’m so sorry, Kennedy.”
It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I was the one who’d buried my feelings, who’d drowned myself in work and exercise, pushing everything else aside.
Hearing him apologize only made the weight of my own guilt heavier.
When Nash leaned in to pull me into his arms, I pulled back, reminding myself I’d promised to handle this like an adult.
So I met his eyes and told him everything.
We hugged, and we cried together. Time slipped away. By the time I finally stood to go to the bathroom, it was dark outside.
When I returned to the couch, I sank down beside him and let my head rest against his shoulder.
Nash’s arm came around me immediately, strong and steady, pulling me close against his warm chest. It wasn’t long before his fingers found their way into my hair and began the familiar act of twirling a strand between them, the way he used to.
“That feels nice.” I sighed.
“Good,” he murmured.
Nash kissed me softly on the forehead. I could tell that he wanted to do more than that, but let me take the lead. I smiled, leaned back, and tilted my head up to meet his gaze. Those bright-green eyes peered down at me, relief and hope in their depths.
We stayed like that for a moment, just studying each other. Then his eyes dipped to my mouth and back up again, and something shifted. A spark lit in the air between us, and I drew in a slow breath.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, kissing him for the first time in weeks.
His lips were soft and familiar, and it felt like coming home. My body ached for more almost immediately, but I wasn’t ready to rush it. Not this time.
Nash seemed to understand, because when we finally pulled apart, he just smiled instead of pushing for more.
“Kennedy,” he said, his eyes holding mine, “I love you.”
There it was—three simple words that could mean nothing from the wrong person, but from him, they were everything.
“I love you too, Nash.”
His smile widened, and then he leaned in to kiss me again.
“When do you have to leave?” I asked when we finally broke apart. It was getting late, and we still needed to talk about the future.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Oh.” The word slipped out before I could stop it. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It gave us no time.
“I know, Kennedy,” he said gently. “But I have my first game back on Wednesday. I have to make practice tomorrow afternoon. If I don’t, my career as I know it is most likely over.”
“I understand.” And I did. I really did. I was just frustrated with our circumstances. I wanted more time. Wanted us to be in the same place—hell, even the same state would have been enough.
“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” he admitted, sounding just as upset as I felt.
“But you do,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “I know that. I get it, Nash. I just think . . . we should talk about where we go from here.”
His answer was simple, but it hit me square in the chest. “Move in with me. Come back to New York and move in with me.”
My smile was slow but big. “I’d love to, Nash. But I have to sort out my work first.”
“So that’s not a no,” he said, and I could hear the excitement creeping into his voice.
“No, that is not a no.”
“Good.”
The slow, sweet smile that curved his lips made my heart race all over again.
“I need to request a transfer back to New York, and I will, Nash. I promise you that.”
“Okay.” He smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my lips again.
“I just don’t know how long it’ll take.”
He sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“I get that. I just don’t want us to fall back into that place where we barely talked and never saw each other.
I get that you have an important job, Kennedy, but you have a right to a personal life too.
Remember? You told me that once—that I deserved a personal life, free from the media and the fans all up in my business. Well, you deserve that too.”
He wasn’t wrong. The hours I’d worked in California had been brutal, probably equal to what most people put in over an entire year. Twelve-hour days, weekends, holidays, nonstop. The only real break I’d taken was after the miscarriage, and even that had been too short.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I admitted quietly.
“They’re working you too hard, Kennedy.” His hand came up to caress my cheek, his eyes soft but serious.
“This life you’re living—it’s just work.
That’s all it is. How long do you think you can keep this up before you break again?
Before you make yourself sick?” He shook his head.
“It’s not right, Ken. You need to take care of yourself.
I need you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself. ”
“I agree, and I will. I’ll talk to them about it. I promise. I’ll ask for a transfer back to New York as soon as possible.”
“Yeah?” His eyes lit up.
“Yeah.” My voice came out steadier, like I’d just made up my mind for good. “What I have here is not a life. I’ve proven to myself that I can handle a challenge, but I also know I took it too far.”
I lifted my gaze, locking on to his bright-green eyes. “It’s not worth it without you. I want to be where you are.”