Chapter 21
PATTERSON
I’m leaning against the brick wall across the street from Kendall’s building, hidden in the shadows like a fucking stalker, but I don’t care. Twenty minutes ago, I made some excuse to Mila about needing fresh air. She saw right through it, gave me that knowing smirk, and told me to have fun.
Now I’m standing in the dark, watching shadows pass the window in Kendall’s apartment, waiting for my brother to leave.
I should go home.
I should let whatever’s happening up there play out and deal with it tomorrow.
But the thought of Jameson touching her, kissing her, sliding his hands over the body I was inside an hour ago makes me want to put my fist through a wall.
She’s still got my cum between her thighs, and my brother is up there, trying to reclaim something that was never really his.
So, I stand here and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, the lobby door swings open, and Jameson steps out onto the sidewalk, adjusting his jacket. He pauses under the streetlight, pulls out his phone, and starts typing something. Then he looks up, scanning the street like he’s expecting someone.
His eyes land on exactly where I’m standing.
“Knew you’d be here,” he calls out, pocketing his phone and strolling toward me with a pep to his step. “You’re so fucking predictable, Patty.”
I push off the wall and meet him halfway. “And you’re leaving early. What happened? Couldn’t close the deal this time?”
He stops a few feet away, studying me with that easy expression that’s always made me want to punch him. “Instead of looking at me like you want to fuck me up, you should be thanking me.”
I scoff. “Thanking you?” I step closer, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “I should kick your ass.”
“You could try.” His grin widens, and his fist flexes. “But we both know how that ends.”
We stare at each other, and I feel the old competitive fire burning between us. We’ve been like this our whole lives, always pushing, always testing, always trying to prove something to each other and ourselves.
“She knows everything now,” Jameson says. “About how you wanted her first. How I pursued her anyway.”
My jaw tightens. “You’re actually admitting it now?”
“Only if you’re admitting that you fucking kissed her all those years ago,” he says. “Oh, please. I knew about it. Kendall told me. I’ve been waiting for you to mention it for six years.”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
“Yeah, it does.” He tilts his head, that calculating charm sliding into place. “I also might have mentioned that you’ve been in love with her since the moment you saw her and were willing to let her be happy with me, even though it killed you. You’re welcome.”
“You had no right—”
“I had every fucking right.” His voice hardens. “Someone had to end the stalemate.”
“What else did you tell her?”
“Everything.” He shrugs. “The ball’s in your court now. What you do with it is up to you. I won’t be your excuse anymore.”
I’m quiet for a long moment, processing what he said. Kendall knows I wanted her first and that Jameson took her from me. She knows I’ve been in love with her this whole time.
“We’re the same, Patterson.” He says it like he’s reading my mind now, the way he’s always been able to.
“You pretend we’re not.” He steps closer, his voice dropping even lower.
“You and I both know that when it comes to getting what we want, we’ll do whatever it takes.
The difference is, I’ve always been honest about it. ”
“Trade clothes with me,” I say.
Jameson blinks. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
I’m already shrugging off my jacket. “Because you owe me.”
“We’re not doing the twin switch on her,” he says, shaking his head. “She’s livid and just took on a nuclear bomb, okay? Let her process it tonight and meet up tomorrow.”
“You owe me.” I hold his gaze. “You took what I wanted. You played games with both of us for years. Trade fucking clothes with me.”
Something shifts in his expression, and for a second, I think he’s going to refuse, going to tell me to go to hell and walk away. But then that familiar competitive glint sparks in his eyes because he can never resist proving he’s right.
Jameson stares at me for a long beat. “She’ll see right through this. She knows us both too well.”
“Then this will be quick.”
He shakes his head but loosens his tie. “Remember that you asked for this.”
We swap clothes in the dim light. His suit fits me perfectly, like he’s in hockey season shape. The climb up the stairs is silent, both of us adjusting to the wrongness of wearing each other’s things. When we reach her floor, I hang back while Jameson approaches the door.
“Knock,” I say.
“I don’t know why I ever listen to you and your dumb-as-fuck ideas,” he mutters.
I step forward and tap my knuckles against the wood, then move beside him as the door swings open.
Kendall’s changed out of her dress and into pajama shorts and a thin tank top. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and her eyes are red-rimmed, like she’s been crying. An almost-empty wineglass dangles from her fingers, and she looks wrecked in a way that nearly destroys me.
Then her gaze moves between us, taking in Jameson in my tux and me in his navy suit, and something cold settles over her expression.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she says flatly.
“Surprise,” Jameson says, but he’s using my cadence and clipped delivery. He’s standing the way I stand, shoulders squared, jaw set. He’s been studying me his whole life, and right now, he’s putting on one of his best performances.
Kendall doesn’t even glance at him. Her eyes stay locked on mine.
“Really?” she asks, and her voice is tired, but there’s something underneath it, something that sounds almost like relief. “After what this asshole told me, you show up at my door, playing games?”
“Ken Do—” Jameson starts.
“Jamie, stop.” She glances at him, and she’s exhausted. “I can’t believe you’re pulling the twin-switching game on me. Don’t you think Addison warned me about this?”
She steps forward, her eyes moving back to mine, and reaches up to press her palm over my heart, right where the word RUINED is inked into my skin.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says quietly.
I can’t breathe.
“Agreed,” Jameson says, dropping the act. “Told you so.”
Kendall glances at him. “You can leave, Jamie.”
She turns to me. “We need to talk.”
Jameson glances between us, and for once, he doesn’t have a smart comment. He nods, adjusts the collar of my borrowed tux, and heads toward the elevator.
“I’m keeping your tux. Fits nice,” he tells me. “Also, don’t fuck this up.”
His footsteps echo down the stairs, and then it’s just Kendall and me.
There are seven years of unspoken words hanging between us.
“Come inside,” she says.
I follow her in, and she closes the door behind us with a soft click.
The space is littered with evidence of her night—an empty wine bottle on the coffee table, her black dress draped over a chair, her heels kicked off by the couch.
She moves to the kitchen, grabs a fresh bottle, uncorks it without asking if I want any, and pours two generous glasses.
“What was that?” she asks as I watch her. “I’m tired of playing games.”
“You’re right,” I say. “I just … I got the confirmation I needed.”
She takes a long sip of wine. “Which is?”
I could deflect. I could throw up the usual walls, retreat behind the hostility that’s kept me safe for so long. But she’s looking at me with those brown eyes that see everything, and I’m so fucking tired of hiding.
“That you’re it for me.”
She sets down her wineglass and crosses to where I’m standing by the window. The city lights paint shadows across her face, and she looks up at me with an expression I can’t quite read.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything about Jameson? What is wrong with you?”
“You said yes when he proposed. I thought you loved him, and I wanted you to be happy even if it meant I was miserable.”
“Patterson …” Her voice cracks on my name. “I’m so pissed off at you both.”
“Hey! That wasn’t my fault. I was being respectful. For your sake. Fuck Jameson.”
She reaches up and touches my face, her fingers tracing along my jaw.
“Sometimes, I really hate you,” she says, but she’s smiling.
I close my eyes because if I look at her right now, I might fall apart. “Ken—”
Her thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “I’ve been so angry at you for so long. I hated the way you treated me, the constant hostility, the cruelty.”
“It was easier.” I open my eyes and meet her gaze. “I hated myself for wanting you, that I couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Every time I saw you, every time you walked into a room, you reminded me of everything I could never have.”
“And what changed?” she whispers.
“You came back,” I admit. “It felt like a second chance.”
All distance between us disappears.
“It is,” she says. “What are we going to do about it?”
My hands find her hips, pulling her against me. “I don’t fucking know.”
“We’re going to try.” She tilts her head up, her mouth hovering below mine. “But I have concerns.”
“About?”
“My dad. Your career,” she whispers, studying me. “I can’t allow you to risk this right now. I read online that your contract is up for renewal at the end of the season.”
“And?” I ask. “Do you really think your dad will trade one of his most valuable players?”
She blinks up at me. “Yes.”
I wasn’t expecting that response. “Really?”
“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “When it comes to me, he doesn’t give two fucks about an MVP. I’m not a game, Patterson. Neither is your career.”
I stick strands of hair behind her ear. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out. Okay?”
She nods, and when I lean in to kiss her, it feels different. It’s slow and raw, and it splits my heart wide open.
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes searching my face. “Stay with me tonight.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” she says. “You’re dressed like your brother.”
I smirk. “Want to go out on the town?”
“No,” she says, stepping back to show me what she’s wearing. “Once the jammies are on, I don’t leave. I … I just want to be with you.”
“Mmm.” I brush her hair back from her face. “I do enjoy the sound of that.”
She takes my hand and leads me toward her bedroom.
The sheets are still rumpled from this morning, and there’s a book open on her nightstand, the spine cracked.
A receipt hangs out of the middle. These are the details I never let myself notice before.
It’s small pieces of her life that exist outside of whatever we are together.
She turns to face me and starts unbuttoning Jameson’s shirt, her fingers trailing down. When she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, she pauses at the sight of my tattoo.
“Tell me what it means,” she says, tracing the letters with her fingertip.
“You already know.”
“Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”
I catch her hand and press it flat against the word, holding it there.
“I got it after you left for Europe. I was convinced I’d lost you forever.
” I swallow hard. “You ruined me, Kendall. From the first moment I saw you, you ruined me for anyone else. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. I’ve never even come close.”
She rises on her toes and kisses the word, her lips soft against my skin. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I tilt her chin up.
“Finally being truthful.”
We take our time undressing one another, and I place kisses in random spots. Usually, when we’re together, it’s full of urgency. It’s a frantic need to get as close as possible, as fast as possible. But tonight is different, like we have all the time in the world. Maybe this time, we do.
When I lower her onto the bed, I take a moment to memorize her. Wavy brown hair spreads across the pillow, and her eyes are dark with want. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and she’s looking at me like I’m something worth keeping.
Kendall smiles. “What?”
“Fucking gorgeous,” I say.
“Yours,” she confirms.
I kiss her again, and when I slide inside her, she makes a sound that’s half-gasp and half-sob. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me deeper.
“Feels so good,” she whispers as I thrust into her favorite spot.
Every move I make feels like a confession.
She comes undone beneath me with my name on her lips, and I follow her over the edge moments later, burying my face in her neck.
“I’m addicted to you,” she says as I fall onto my back.
We stare at the ceiling, and then she moves close to me and lets me hold her.
I run my fingers through her hair as she listens to my heartbeat, and I press a kiss to the top of her head.
She lifts her chin to look at me, and there’s something vulnerable in her expression.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispers into the night.
“I know, babe. I always knew that.”
I pull her closer, and she settles against my side, her arm draped across my stomach. The city hums outside her window, and I lie there, wide awake, trying to understand how I got here. I guess a thousand little mistakes will still lead you to where you’re supposed to be.
She falls asleep first, her breathing slowing, and I stay where I am, taking it all in.
For once, I’m not thinking about a million reasons this can’t work because maybe it can.