Chapter 12
Kenzie
Ilet Trevor switch topics because my heart is twisted up, imagining little Trevor with his floppy hair and his wholesome exuberance, looking into the stands and never seeing his family.
How could someone do that to their child?
Okay, sure, let’s say you have a demanding job, and you have to work through half of the games, but all of them?
And then your son goes pro, and you just… don’t show up? Not once?
“Kenzie?”
“Yeah, um…” I pause, trying to collect my ping-ponging thoughts.
I want to somehow fix the situation—develop a time machine and give his parents a stern talking to. Because Trevor is the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he deserves to be supported like my parents supported me.
I seriously don’t know where I’d be without their encouragement, without their tireless love of all the strange and squiggly pieces of me.
They weren’t even upset when I wanted to have a career that wasn’t in agriculture.
They put me in advanced math classes and helped me find tutors who could answer my questions when my knowledge outgrew theirs.
My parents insisted I pursue my own dreams, even if that included eventually moving away to live by the ocean.
My palm presses over my stomach as a swooping sensation of homesickness threatens to capsize me.
“We’re almost there,” Trevor tells me, thinking it’s car sickness again.
I nod, staying quiet as the maple trees and loblolly pines part like stage curtains, revealing a towering black-and-white lighthouse.
My fingers slap the dash as I surge forward in my seat for a better view.
The wide slanted stripes make the lighthouse look like a gigantic black licorice candy cane.
Topping the lighthouse, the lantern room gleams in the spring sunlight.
A happy sigh escapes my mouth before I finally answer Trevor’s question.
“Seeing a lighthouse is a softball entry,” I admit. “I figured if I wrote a list of things to get me out of my comfort zone and they were all terrifying, then I’d never do any of them. I’d just sit home with Banks, and nothing would change.”
“You don’t need to change.” Trevor’s kind tone further drives home my earlier point about his soft-hearted nature.
I make a noncommittal sound in my throat, keeping my gaze on my nautical prize.
Trevor pulls into a spot in the parking lot, and the truck is barely in park before I jump outside, relishing the full splendor of this structural beauty.
“Just look at it.” I marvel, using one hand to shade my eyes.
My roommate chuckles as he locks the truck. “Do you want me to take a picture of you two together?”
“Later,” I tell him, already marching toward the little building at the end of the parking lot. “After I see the view from the top.”
I’d researched this lighthouse and a few in the Outer Banks.
All but one provide self-guided walking tours.
If I remember correctly, Cedar Shoal Lighthouse stands at two-hundred and ten feet tall with a ten-story climb up a winding staircase to the topmost landing.
The views of the coast are supposed to be spectacular.
It takes me a few seconds to realize that Trevor isn’t beside me.
Since one of his long strides equals two of mine, that’s strange.
Trevor usually looks like he’s moving in slow motion when he stays in step with me.
Aaron used to just push ahead, leaving me trailing behind, but my roommate has never outpaced me.
I stop, glancing over my shoulder. An indiscernible emotion skirts over Trevor’s brow, but it disappears when he pushes his hair out of his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, his mouth softening into an easy smile. “Let’s go climb a lighthouse.”
After an informative chat with the volunteer manning the small gift shop and ticket counter, we stride up the steep walkway to the base of the lighthouse. I pause occasionally to snap pictures, because from this angle you really get the scale of how grand this building is.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say, neck craned in awe.
Trevor makes a murmur of agreement before we enter the base through a sturdy metal door. I immediately grab the thin handrail and start to climb.
“These stairs are really narrow,” Trevor comments once we’ve reached the second story landing.
The stairs fit my feet just fine, but they’re not as big as Trevor’s.
“I guess people were smaller back then.” I gesture to the landing. “Do you want to look out now or on the way down?”
“On the way down is fine.”
His tone sounds a bit off, but I’m already winded. Walking on the level, paved streets of Trevor’s manicured neighborhood has not prepared me for this climb. My heart feels like it’s going to burst Alien-style from my chest. That is, if my lungs don’t give out first.
I glance back at my roommate, noting a light sheen of perspiration on his brow as he watches his step. This challenging climb clearly isn’t having the same effect on him. Of course, Trevor gets paid an obscene amount of money to be in peak physical shape, so there’s that.
We climb in silence for a few more stories. When I stumble on a stair, Trevor’s hand braces my waist, steadying me.
“Do you need a break?” He has the decency to sound winded now.
I shake my head, pointing upward. We only have another story before the prize at the end of this torture—a wrap-around landing at the top. I can see the light spilling into the staircase from here.
Trevor’s nod looks…reserved? No, that can’t be it. He must be tired, like me, but better at hiding it. Trevor has sports photographers and videographers constantly filming him, so he probably has an exceptional poker face.
When the cool sea breeze caresses my cheeks at the very top, I almost crumble against the doorframe in relief.
My arms stretch wide as I step out into the sunlight, tilting my chin and closing my eyes for a breath.
Then I clutch the railing and gaze out at the expansive ocean.
My exhausted heartbeat pounds in my ears, but a happy sigh leaves my mouth.
The way the light reflects off the waves, making hundreds of winking diamonds, is one of my favorite things.
I follow a pod of dolphins swimming up the coast as my breathing slowly returns to normal.
A peal of delight leaves my mouth when one of them jumps into the air.
I point, looking back to find Trevor stalled in the tiny door frame.
Or rather, the doorway looks miniscule in comparison to his hulking frame.
“Get out here, silly.” A chuckle escapes my smiling lips. “You’re missing the dolphins.”
“I’ve seen dolphins.” His gaze darts up from his feet to my face before snapping back to the ground.
A rough swallow makes his Adam’s apple jump as he grips the door frame, his knuckles white.
“Trevor.” I step over slowly, like how I used to approach Banks in the early days before he learned to trust me. “Are you afraid of heights?”
My roommate shakes his head at his feet, clearly terrified.
“Why are you up here if you’re afraid of heights?”
His hazel eyes jump to mine, but this time they hold. “Because you were excited about this. I didn’t want to ruin it for you.” His gaze drops with an audible exhale. “Maybe I am anyway.”
My chest squeezes, but it has nothing to do with the strain from the climb.
“You’re not ruining anything.” I hesitate before settling my fingers over his on the door jamb. “I’m going to enjoy the view for a few more minutes. Do you want to wait in the staircase? You could sit on the top step.”
Trevor shakes his head, not looking at me. “I’ll stay here.”
“Okay.” I pat his hand before walking around the entire landing.
On the inland side, you can see downtown and the city stretched beyond.
In the distance, thousands of people go about their normal Thursday afternoons—sending emails, picking kids up from school, secretly hating their bosses but laughing at their dumb jokes.
Farther up the coast, the looming hotel towers that line the Virginia Beach boardwalk jut skyward.
To the south rests the lush natural area protecting Wilks Beach from the rest of civilization.
I return to the part of the landing with the door, noting that Trevor hasn’t moved. It almost looks like his tense shoulders are holding the top of the lighthouse in place. Atlas with a lantern room on his back.
“I’m almost done,” I tell him, sliding my phone from my back pocket. “I’m just going to take some pictures to send to Mom and Dad.”
Trevor nods at his sneakers.
I snap a few quick pictures, leaning over the railing to get more of the beach beyond the dunes at the base of the lighthouse.
I’m almost done when the trusty soles of my Converse slip from under me, and my ribs slam against the railing, knocking the wind out of me.
If hitting the railing hadn’t been jarring enough, I’m immediately dragged backward.
I barely have the wherewithal to fist my phone so it doesn’t go tumbling over the edge.
In a dizzying swoop, I’m pushed against the brick of the lighthouse, Trevor’s body barricading me in.
His palms flatten on either side of my head, his gaze frantic as it rakes over my body.
Trevor’s heaving exhales puff against my skin as he continues his visual inspection.
He’s so close I can feel the anxious energy vibrating from his tense muscles.
Not to be outdone, the adrenaline surging through my body threatens to fry my nerve endings.
Some higher-functioning part of my brain already knows that since my center of gravity had been below the railing, the likelihood of me going over had been slim-to-none.
But the animalistic part of my brain that really enjoys being alive is convinced that it was a close call.
“I’m okay,” I say to myself but also to reassure Trevor, who looks like his brain is conjuring worst-case scenarios, even though the lighthouse brick is now cooling my back.
“You’re okay,” Trevor echoes, his gaze uncertain.
“Really.” I lift my eyebrows.
Trevor takes another deep inhale, his chest almost brushing mine, and slowly begins to nod.
My lips twitch upward slightly, aiming for encouraging, but tremble slightly at the corners.
It was terrifying to slip like that, to consider the possibility of falling from this height. I’d be done for, that much is certain. There’s no possibility of recovering from a fall like that.
An almost maniacal laugh tumbles from my mouth.
Trevor frowns, his forehead bunching. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because the one item on my Do It Scared list that wasn’t supposed to be daunting ended up scaring us both.”
I see the crack in his stern expression like pinholes of sunlight through a thick curtain.
First at the corner of his left eye, then the cupid’s bow of his full lips, and finally the loosening of his jaw.
When Trevor drops his forehead to the wall behind me with a body-shaking guffaw, nervous giggles tickle up my throat like champagne bubbles.
We let the moment take over for a while, cackling like my life hadn’t just flashed before my eyes.
Then Trevor lets out a noisy sigh, smiling down at me.
I tilt my chin up, mirroring his expression.
Immediately, the moment transforms into something else as the air pressure changes.
I’m suddenly very aware of his proximity, but not in a grateful, thank-you-for-saving-me kind of way.
Trevor drifts closer, the heat of him blocking out the sea breeze.
There’s a subtle shift as his breath catches in his throat. His gaze dips to my lips and stalls.
Clarity slaps my temple like a whip crack.
Trevor Chapman, catcher for the Virginia Beach Waves, Gold Glove Award Winner, tender cat dad, my roommate, and the man I jokingly refer to as my older brother…is thinking about kissing me.
Or at least there’s an 87.6% chance that’s what he’s thinking. What else would cause Trevor to tuck his bottom lip between his teeth like that? Maybe I have a hot chocolate mustache? Yeah, that’s probably—
“Kenz…”
My name is a sandpaper scrape I feel down to the soles of my feet. He’s never shortened my name before or said it with such unbidden longing that warmth spreads low in my belly. My brain is a jumbled mess, but my body could be convinced to push away from the stone wall into something new.
Do I want that?
Am I even ready for it?
Stampeding feet bound up the staircase, bringing the sound of children’s voices. Trevor steps back two seconds before eleven-year-old twin boys punch through the open doorway. The raucous pair unintentionally save me from making a potentially disastrous mistake.
What if I’d read the situation wrong? I thought Aaron had been in love with me, and clearly, I’d been mistaken about that. Pain slips over my shoulder and wracks down my back, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut.
“Good gracious, that’s a lot of stairs.” An exhausted mother spills into the doorway. “I need to do more cardio.”
“You and me both.” I offer a commiserating smile before I eye the boys. “Be careful around the railing. It’s slippery in spots.”
“Oh, good to know.” She steps forward to take each of her sons by the hand. “Stay close you two,” she tells them before glancing back at me. “Thanks for the warning.”
“No problem,” I say.
I silently follow Trevor down the staircase, wishing someone would have warned me about these confusing feelings about my roommate.