49 #2
“Remember when we were kids and played over there?” Nash asked, pointing to the space behind our housing development.
I knew exactly what he meant and where he wanted to go.
There was a playground a couple blocks away, with an open field beside it.
We’d spent countless hours there playing soccer, baseball, basketball, hockey .
. . whatever game we could make up. Cops and robbers, hide-and-seek, you name it.
That playground and that field had been our whole world once.
“Let’s go,” I said, smiling. “Maybe I’ll even let you push me on the swing this time.” I reached for his hand.
Nash’s eyes widened, and he started to laugh. “Shit, I forgot how scared you used to be of those swings.”
“Yeah, well, that was because the three of you”—I jabbed his arm lightly, referring to him and our brothers—“always made dares out of everything. And the one time I agreed to jump off at the highest point, I fell—”
“And broke your arm,” Nash finished, still grinning. He squeezed my hand. “I remember. You were so damn cute. Your hair was all over the place, and you looked so proud of yourself for flying so far, right up until you realized your arm really hurt.”
“I did get pretty far,” I said, feeling a sense of pride for my younger self.
“Yeah, you did.” He laughed, his green eyes warm.
It only took us a few minutes to reach the field.
The place was completely deserted, quiet in a way that made the memories almost louder.
Except for the occasional car passing on the road, it was just us.
Nash’s hand was warm around mine as we crossed the smooth, freshly paved parking lot, so different from the dirt and gravel we’d kicked at as kids.
“I can’t believe how much time we spent here,” I said as we came up on the empty playground.
This place had been our second home growing up.
Some nights it had been crowded with kids from the neighborhood, and other times it had just been the two of us.
I noticed the new lights and the shiny fence.
Everything that used to feel so big and intimidating seemed so much smaller now.
“All the time,” Nash agreed, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Especially those summer nights before Isaac started high school.”
“Yeah. I remember me and you used to come down here even after Isaac and Jackson decided they were too cool to hang out with us.”
I giggled, because he was right. Isaac and Jackson had tried so hard to prove they were grown up, rolling their eyes and calling us dorky while Nash and I stayed behind, completely unbothered.
“Remember all the games we played out here?” Nash asked, gesturing toward the wide, dark stretch of field that faded into the woods at the edge.
“Yeah.” I sighed. Most of those memories were good ones. A few weren’t, but overall, this place was full of fond memories. “What about that one time over here?” I gestured toward the empty basketball court. “It was you and me, of course . . .”
Nash nodded, already knowing. It had almost always been him and me against our brothers.
“And they thought they had us beat, but then you sank that three-pointer with only seconds left?”
“Yeah, priceless,” Nash said, grinning as our laughter bubbled up.
Jackson had been so furious he’d hurled the ball clear across the court, nearly taking out a poor kid in the process before stomping off. It was one of the last basketball games we’d ever played together.
“They really hated losing to us.”
“That they did.”
Nash slipped his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the old hockey rink.
The boards were weathered, the inside more dirt than anything but with a few stubborn patches of grass poking through.
This was where Nash had first learned to skate; the town had flooded the rink every winter to give the kids a place to practice.
In summer, it became a makeshift field for soccer or field hockey.
“Remember when we were eight?” Nash asked, turning toward me.
The shadows played across his face, but his eyes still glowed, steady and warm as they focused on me.
“I was upset at our brothers for always beating us when we played hockey here.” He gestured toward the rink.
“You were right beside me on the ice, watching me take shot after shot, missing every damn one while they snickered. I was so frustrated I was about to cry, but I wouldn’t let them see it.
And you—you were standing there with those messy pigtails and your big pink hat pulled down to your eyeballs, telling me not to give up.
You said I’d get it in if I just kept trying. ”
I nodded slowly as the memory flooded my brain. He had been so angry that day, so desperate to keep up with our older brothers. And I remembered, so clearly, wanting to protect him from the sting of losing.
Nash reached up and brushed his thumb across my cheek, the tenderness in his smile nearly undoing me.
“You told me that if I just kept practicing, I could be better than both Isaac and Jackson.”
I smiled, remembering how I’d stuck my tongue out at Jackson for being such a jackass.
“You were always my biggest supporter, Kennedy,” Nash said, his voice low and strained. “When everyone else gave up on me, you still believed I could do it.”
I reached for his hands, and he caught mine instantly, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.
“See, babe,” he murmured with a quiet chuckle, “you always know what I need, even now.” He squeezed my hand and leaned down to press a tender kiss to my forehead.
“I love you,” I whispered, because it was all I could manage.
“I love you too, Kennedy. So much.”
He closed his eyes, pulling in a shaky breath, then opened them again with that intense gaze that never failed to undo me.
“You always told me I could do it, no matter what it was.” His laugh was rough, and I giggled, because I knew exactly what he was thinking.
I’d been a little too encouraging at times, cheering him on as he swung across a creek like Tarzan or climbed trees like Spider-Man.
Not every stunt had ended well, but the intentions had always been good.
Nash’s smile softened, his eyes glistening as his thumb brushed over my knuckles. “That’s what’s stayed with me, Ken. Through high school, through college, even the NHL. I worked harder because of you. I believed because of you. You made me more than I thought I could ever be.”
“Nash,” I whispered, my chest tightening with the sudden worry that something was wrong.
When I looked up, I saw him fighting to keep his emotions in check, his jaw tight, his eyes glassy.
“You were out here with me on the ice every day after school for months after that,” he continued, his voice thick. His hands squeezed mine, a silent reassurance that he was okay. “And you cheered for me every time I scored. I think I already knew back then that I loved you.”
Oh, my heart.
Tears blurred my vision, but I kept blinking them back, trying to focus on Nash and what he was saying, on his beautiful, strong face, on those incredible green eyes shining with tears of their own. His voice broke, and I knew he was just as overwhelmed as I was.
“Kennedy,” he whispered, “you’ve always been there for me. Whether I deserved it or not. You were the one cheering for me, supporting me, encouraging me, loving me.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears came hot and steady down my cheeks, and Nash only smiled softly as he reached up, brushing them away with his thumb.
“You’re the one I can count on, Kennedy. Always. You are so kind and so beautiful . . .” His voice broke, and I stared in awe as his tears finally spilled over, trailing down his cheeks. He shut his eyes for a moment, clearing his throat like he was working up the nerve for something big.
When his red-rimmed eyes lifted to mine again, my heart took off in my chest. But my entire body began to shake when he dropped down onto one knee in front of me.
I gasped when he reached into his pocket.
“Baby,” he said, holding up a small, dark box. Something sparkly winked inside, but my tears blurred it too much to make it out clearly, not that I didn’t know what it was.
“You’ve always been my special girl,” Nash said, his voice thick with love.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.
I may not always deserve you, but I swear I’ll spend every day trying to be the man you need.
I want to love you for the rest of my life.
I can’t imagine growing old with anyone but you. Please, Kennedy . . . marry me?”
I launched myself at him, knocking him straight back onto the ground.
He dropped the box in his scramble to catch me while I shouted, “Yes!” over and over again like a lunatic.
We ended up laughing and crying, crawling around on our knees in the dark grass until we finally found the ring, its diamond sparkling like a tiny star under the beams of our phone flashlights.
“I can’t believe I did that,” I said, half laughing, half sobbing as I wiped at the endless stream of tears. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop smiling at the ring sparkling on my finger.
“I’m just glad you remembered to say yes,” Nash chuckled, which made me snort out loud. He’d caught me so off guard I’d barely managed words at all.
“I think that was about the only part I got right!”
“Maybe for the wedding, try to keep it to just the yes part,” Nash teased. “No need to knock me over in the church.”
I burst out laughing. “I don’t think I could knock you over if I tried while you’re standing up, Nash.”
“I don’t know, Ken,” he said with a crooked grin, “you seemed awfully eager to get to the ring.”
I laughed again, but he was wrong. It wasn’t the ring I couldn’t wait to get to.
It was him.
It was always him.