12. Wild and Free
12
Wild and Free
Chelsea
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I huff.
“Didn’t we already have this conversation an hour ago?” Trevor asks, folding his arms over his chest in amusement. Which just pisses me off.
His birthday is in six days, and he didn’t tell me until an hour ago. Actually, he didn’t tell me anything until after Amanda started asking me questions about whether I was planning to do a party for his birthday. When she realized I didn’t know, she grumbled something under her breath and immediately sent a strongly worded text to Trevor.
He was apologetic when we met up after my night class, but I don’t think he fully understands why I’m upset.
“Yes, but I’m still annoyed. Now I’m rushing to plan a special date and get you a present.”
“I told you I don’t care about those things.”
“Well, I do,” I snap.
His eyebrows shoot up, and I take his hand, leading him from the kitchen.
Since our sweet shower moment a week ago and then him staying the night, we’ve been spending more time together. He’s spent the night a couple more times—still fully clothed—and we showered together both mornings after that. It’s helped me grow even more comfortable with him.
Comfortable enough to yell at him right now.
The dinner we were cooking together is in the oven, and I need him to understand why this is bothering me.
I shove him onto the couch and climb on his lap, jamming my finger into his chest. “How would you feel if I didn’t tell you when my birthday was?”
The cocky little half smile appears. “Technically you haven’t.”
“We’ll get to that in a minute. But seriously. How would you feel if you found out from my friends a week before my birthday and I just hadn’t told you?”
He drops his head back against the couch. “Crappy.”
“Exactly.” I run my fingers through his hair, drawing his attention back to me. I’m not really mad at him, just frustrated. “I know you say it’s not that important to you, but it’s important to me because you are important to me. You would bend over backward to do anything for me. You’re patient, and the way you care for me is unparalleled. But I want to take care of you too.” He opens his mouth, but I hold up one finger. “Not because I feel like I have to or to pay you back. Because I want to. I’m your girl. That’s why you want to take care of me. It’s why I’m sure you’ll want to spoil me on my birthday. You’re my person, Trev.” I suck in a breath to keep my voice from breaking. “I want to take care of you and spoil you. It’s my right as your girlfriend.”
He stares at me, his hands running up and down my back. “I’m sorry. For the record, just being with you on my birthday is more than enough for me, but I get your point. I’m yours to spoil.”
“And take care of,” I say pointedly because I see the ways he holds back. He might not even realize he’s doing it, but in his desire to take care of others, he hides his own pain. I see it, though, and I’m not letting him get away with that shit.
“I guess I could agree to that.”
I lean in and brush my lips over his. “You better.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“Could be.”
Pressing my lips to his, I rake my fingers through his hair. Thankfully, he’s learned to stop holding back and to give in when I kiss him like this, and soon our tongues are tangled, and we’re getting lost in each other.
Suddenly, he pulls back. “You’re supposed to be telling me when your birthday is.”
I lean back a little, but he keeps his hands on my back, holding me in place on his lap.
“Mm. I think you should guess.” I give him my sweetest smile.
He groans. “What am I supposed to do? Go through every day of the year?”
“You could guess based on my star sign.”
“Yeah, because astrology is one of my favorite things.”
I shrug. “I could see Hyla making you learn it.”
He cocks a brow. “Have you been talking to Hyla?”
No, but that makes me want to. Plus, she sounds like a lot of fun.
“No. But from the way you and the girls have described her, it seems like something she’d be into and force you to learn about.”
“She’s tried,” he grumbles under his breath.
“Fine. I’ll give you a hint. It’s right around my favorite holiday.”
He tilts his head. “Okay, I’m guessing either Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Valentine’s Day?”
“One of those.” I smile sweetly.
“I’m ruling out Christmas. I feel like it would’ve come up if your birthday was near there. But then… maybe that’s true of Thanksgiving too. Okay, Valentine’s Day?”
“Ding ding, we have a winner. Now you have to figure out the day.”
“Valentine’s Day is your favorite holiday?”
“Have you not figured out how I feel about romance?”
“True. I should’ve seen that coming. Okay, fine. Is it…” He trails off, eyes narrowing. “Is it the thirteenth?”
For some reason, his words have a heaviness to them.
“Yeah, it is.”
He swallows and shakes his head. “That’s my dad’s birthday.”
My eyes go to his, emotion rippling through me.
Tug. There’s another string, tying us together. Pulling me to this kind, compassionate man, who I’m certain I was meant to find.
“Guess I have a new special reason to celebrate it now,” Trevor whispers, voice gravelly.
“We should still honor him too.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then pulls me tight to him, and that warm fuzzy feeling blooms in my heart. I know what it is. I know what’s growing there. I’m not ready to say it yet. It’s still taking root, but I know once it grows, it’ll be stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
“My mom’s going to love it.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “She loves celebrating birthdays—it’s her way of honoring people. It took some convincing to keep her from coming up for mine.”
“Oh, so it really isn’t just me. You don’t want anyone to celebrate your birthday. Got it.”
“I didn’t say that,” he sighs. “Just would rather see her when I’m back there in a couple of weeks anyway. I’d rather her stay back home with Hyla. I know how much my mom loves me. Hyla needs more of that love right now.”
“That’s sweet.”
He shrugs. “There’s no getting out of celebrating it anyway, she’ll do it when I’m home next. So, no, I’m not trying to avoid celebrating. I just don’t need anything special.”
“Mhm. And that’s why there’s a party at the lake house on Saturday.”
“Have you met Amanda? We should talk about that, though. Are you going to be okay at a party?”
Ah yes, one of the lovely things we’ve discussed over the past week, how I haven’t been comfortable with parties or drinking since my assault. Though I want to get comfortable being able to have a drink here or there—especially as I get closer to twenty-one—I don’t have much desire for parties.
“With most other parties, I’d say no, but Rae told me the first time I ever went to the lake house that it’s a safe space.”
“She doesn’t like parties much either. But I think for her it’s different with our friends.”
“That’s how I feel too, though you said some guys from the baseball team will be there?”
“The SUNY FL one, yes. But only a couple. Otherwise, it should be small. Though I’m sure Amanda is trying everything possible to get some friends from back home here. Hyla has to work, but we’ll see if Amanda gets anyone else here. No matter what, though, if you feel uncomfortable at any time, my room will be a safe place. And if you need me to go up there with you for any reason and make you feel safe…”
“Now who’s threatening who?” I tease.
He grazes his lips over mine. “I just want you to know you’re safe with me. Especially when you’re in my arms. And when your lips are on mine… nothing safer than that.”
“Hm. I guess we better test that out.”
“We better.” He leans back against the couch and pulls me to him again, and I happily get lost in the warmth of his arms, the peace in my heart, and yes, the safety I always feel with him.
My lips press firmly to Trevor’s, my tongue teasing his as I straddle him on the couch, completely unhinged as I kiss him.
Fire burns in my gut, all desperation for him. I love making out with him, and I’m starting to think I might be ready—or inching toward ready—to take things further. Even if it’s only half a step.
Every curve of my body is pressed against his hard muscles, my lips fused to his like I need them more than my next breath. And I might. I really fucking might.
I swear, kissing him breaks my brain, and needing more air is irrelevant. All I need is more of Trevor.
Slowly I roll my hips over him, breath hitching in my throat at the friction. I’m horny all the time these days with how badly I want him. I can’t even give him a chaste kiss without feeling a little hot and bothered. My toy collection has been getting a workout, and I’m all too aware of how many times he’s left my apartment with a boner. It’s hard not to feel bad, but he’s insistent that it’s not my responsibility to take care of his needs—even if he and his hand are getting friendlier than ever.
Then my mind conjures up that image. Him lying in bed, stroking himself.
My stomach whirls—not because it makes me uncomfortable, because it makes me hot. And because suddenly, I really, really want to see how that image plays out. The noises he makes. The expression as he…
Whoa.
Do I want to do that with him right now?
Do I want to be the one to touch him like that?
I’m not sure. Which means no.
But I want to see it. I want to…
I roll my hips over him again, that delicious bulge hitting all the right spots. I’m not ready to do that in front of him yet. But maybe…
I roll my hips again, and again, then his hands land on my hips.
“Chels.” His voice is raspy with barely restrained need. “You need to stop or I’m going to—”
I kiss him hard again, then barely lift my lips off his. “What if I want you to?”
His eyebrows lift like he’s about to argue, but then he really looks at me. He sees the vulnerability on my face, and that I’m still in control, and he understands what I’m asking. For him to go first.
In answer, he leans in and sucks on my neck.
More exchanged trust.
With his lips next to my ear, he rumbles, “You want to take care of me, gorgeous? Want to hear how I say your name when I come?”
Holy dirty talk.
“Yes.” My voice is so breathy it’s almost a whine.
“Then I’m all yours.”
I stare at him for a second, then take his lips in a rough, possessive kiss. He wraps his arms around my back, holding me steady as I take control and grind against him.
He gives in to our kisses, groans spilling out as I drag him toward the edge. The warmth of intoxicating power floods me as I watch him, the twist of pleasure on his face, his hazy, hooded eyes. Because of me.
Not only am I safe, not only am I in charge, but I get to take care of him.
I fist his hair as I move faster, and I know the moment he’s getting close. His muscles tighten and he breathes out my name again.
I rip my mouth from his and stare down at him, at his swollen lips and begging eyes. Then I move my hips again, harder, faster, until his hands come to my hips and he holds me in place.
“Oh, fuck…”
His eyes slip closed, his lips parting as his orgasm tears through him.
And as I continue to grind, I feel the warmth of him pulsing under me.
He pulls me closer and buries his face in my neck. “Holy fuck, baby.”
Heat rushes through me, and my clit tingles, and that’s when I jump off his lap. Whew . Too close. Not that I have any regrets. Seeing him come was so fucking hot, but I didn’t realize how close I was to coming, and even though I could probably handle that, I can’t confidently say I’m ready for that yet. For the weight of his eyes on me when I fall apart.
I flush more at that thought.
Sanity seems to return to him all at once, and he jumps off the couch too, clearly concerned that was too much for me. But I bite my lip as I smile, quickly reassuring him.
“Okay?” he asks.
I fist his shirt and pull him to me. “Amazing. Watching you…” A shiver runs through me. “That was sexy. So sexy I needed to climb off your lap before I—”
“Got it.”
“Still working on being ready for that.”
He curls his fingers through my hair. “There’s no rush.”
As if on cue, the alarm on his phone goes off. After the third night of not realizing it was almost one in the morning, he started setting an alarm for ten-forty-five, hoping he’d be in his car by eleven, then back to the lake house and in bed before midnight.
He shuts off his alarm and turns back to me, cheeks still flushed and still breathing a bit heavily. “Guess that’s my cue. Sorry to come and run.” He flashes me that cheeky smile.
“Missed opportunity for a come and go pun, but fine. Go home, get some sleep. Dream of me.”
“No chance I won’t.”
He gives me a steamy kiss that only stokes the fire raging inside me.
“Happy birthday week.”
“Was this part of my birthday gift?”
“Mm. With how little notice you gave me, it might be your only one.”
“Then I would have zero complaints.” He gives me one last kiss, then a firm squeeze to my ass before walking out the door with a lazy smile on his lips.
Once I hear his footsteps on the stairs, I dash over and lock the door, then run to my bedroom and throw open the drawer on my bedside table. Which toy do I want tonight?
I’m so keyed up, but I kind of want to play around.
I want to imagine Trevor is here with me.
Which catches me. Because that made me nervous a little while ago. The thought of him seeing me come, but now… I don’t know. I wish there was something in between.
I look over at my phone. Maybe there is.
I quickly pick it up and send a text.
Me: Call me when you get to your room.
Then I pick out some toys and entertain myself for the next twenty minutes while I wait for him to get home. I bring myself to the edge and pull back, enjoying my body in a way that was so foreign for many months. Pleasure that isn’t just related to me, but Trevor, too.
When my phone rings, I barely pull the vibrator from my clit in time to answer.
“Hi.”
“Babe, what’s up? Are you okay?”
I bite my lip, trying and failing to hold back my moan, and put the call on speaker.
Suddenly, his raspy voice fills the room. “What are you doing?”
“Take a guess,” I pant.
He curses under his breath. “How long have you been doing that?”
“Since you left.” I moan again, so tantalizingly close.
“Are you using your fingers or a toy?”
I look down at the vibrator I’m swirling around my clit and my fingers, still moving in and out of my pussy. “Both.”
“Are you close?”
My breath trembles. “So close. I want you to hear it. I want you to know”—I stop holding back and moan loudly—“I want you to know when I come, I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of the look on your face and the noises you made, and the way you pulsed under me.” My toes curl into the sheets as I cry out. “Trev. I’m so close.”
“Keep going, baby. Work your sweet clit until you shatter.”
Fuck, I can’t wait until we can talk like that in the same room. Getting ourselves off or each other.
“Trevor. Ohh…”
“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good. Let me hear you come.”
The vibrator hits the perfect spot as his words ring in my ear and an earth-shattering, unholy orgasm rips through me. My ass flies off the sheets as every muscle contracts. I don’t know if I’m moaning or screaming or making any coherent words, I only know it feels so damn good, and he’s listening to every second, and that turns me on more, making it last even longer.
“Trev…” I pant as I finally start sliding down from that high.
My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, but his smooth, sultry voice cuts through it all.
“So good, baby. Perfect.”
“Mhm.” I pull my fingers out and look down at them, wondering if he’d lick them off if he were here. I’m definitely inching toward wanting more. Or leaping. And after this…? “Thanks for listening,” I say playfully.
“I will listen to that anytime.”
I almost ask, and what about watching? But I think I know the answer to that, and I trust that we’ll get there when the time is right. For now, this unlocks a whole new way to play together.
“I’ll keep that in mind. See you tomorrow?”
“I’ll meet you after your 10:00 a.m. class.”
“Perfect. Goodnight, birthday boy.”
“Night, Chels. Sleep well.”
I hang up, then stumble around on my shaky legs, barely managing to clean myself and my toys before collapsing back into bed and drifting off into absolute bliss.
Trevor
Twenty-one.
For some people, this is the birthday of drunken shenanigans and getting so shit-faced you don’t actually remember anything about your birthday.
That’s never been me. Maybe in another life it could have been, but being thoughtful and responsible was ingrained in me from a young age. Not just with my parents’ expectations, but with the examples they set for me. Dicking around and goofing off with my friends is all well and good, but I’ve never been the type to get blackout drunk or even much past tipsy.
Maybe it’s because I like to be in control—keep the people I care about safe—or maybe it’s because of that nagging voice in the back of my mind that it wouldn’t make my dad proud.
Ah, the baggage of idolizing your parent, then losing them at a young age. Do I have my dad on a pedestal? Yeah. But he fucking earned it by being one of the greatest humans ever. And that’s not a me thing. Everyone I’ve met who knew him always tells me the same.
Of course, my dad was also my personal hero, and if he were still alive, he’d be my best friend, my closest confidant. I love my mom, but I was obsessed with my dad. I wanted to spend all my time with him, and he was never ever annoyed by that. He thought I was cool too, and wanted to spend his time with me. And Mom. And Hyla too. He wore his love for his family like a badge of honor, and he made every moment with us extra special.
That’s part of why I don’t put much emphasis on my birthday. Before my dad died, it was the day I looked forward to every year. I knew it would be incredible because he always made it that way. My mom has gone above and beyond since he died, trying to make it feel just as special, and I love her for it, but what I miss isn’t something replaceable. It’s my dad’s joyful energy. The massive smile on his face when whatever surprise he concocted was finally revealed. And even though this is my tenth birthday without him, I still don’t feel a big desire to celebrate.
Does any of that excuse me not telling Chelsea? No. But I truly wasn’t thinking about it. I wasn’t keeping it from her. If it hadn’t been for Amanda planning a party, I wouldn’t have thought of it until two days beforehand. I understand why she was upset, and maybe I should’ve told her the reason I don’t want to make it a big deal, but if she wants to celebrate me, I want to let her do that. Because I know how that feels. To want to make the person you care about happy and bring them joy. It’s all I think about with her. It’d be hypocritical of me to stop her from doing that for me.
So, we’re going on a date she planned, and I’m going to focus on having fun.
Not that the party last night wasn’t fun. I appreciated that too. Chelsea did great, and once she realized how small and relaxed it was, she was completely comfortable. Amanda got Nick and his wife, Leigh, to come up for a few hours, and that was awesome. Chelsea fit in with them seamlessly, bantering with Nick and probably scheming with Leigh. It was all great, and I had fun.
Fuck, I wish I could stop being such a sad sack about this, but losing my dad colored things differently, and my accident brought a lot of those things up again. I hadn’t realized how much I had compartmentalized until after that.
Maybe I should go back to therapy.
I went right after my dad died, but… whatever.
I don’t want to get on this train of thought today. I’m determined to have a great time with my girl.
There we go. That’s the train of thought I can jump on.
My dick too.
Unfortunately, he gets a little jumpy at even the mention of Chelsea these days. That might have something to do with that hot as fuck grinding session followed by listening to her get off over the phone.
I swear I memorized every sound she made, and fuck if I’m not desperate for more. Not that I’ll push. Just the memory of her breathy moans or the feel of her body grinding against mine is enough to get me close to coming.
Speaking of which… I glance down at the obvious bulge in my pants.
Just what I need while I’m driving to pick up Chelsea.
I don’t even have time to beat one off, unless I want to find some back road, but that sounds pervy.
Maybe I need to start jerking off before our dates.
Is that more creepy or less?
And now I’m thinking about jerking off. Not what I need right now, brain.
I take a deep breath, trying to think of anything that will get the blood from my dick, only for the noise of loud ringing to scare the shit out of me.
I jump and glance at the screen in my car. Then I cringe hard at the name I see.
My mother.
Well, at least my boner is dead now.
I click the button to answer the call and try to sound normal. “Hey, Mom.”
“Happy birthday!” The mixture of my mom’s and Hyla’s voices reverberate around the car as if they were right next to me.
I grunt but smile.
“Thank you.”
“How’s your birthday weekend been so far?” Mom asks.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I had to miss your party,” Hyla says.
“It’s all good. It was low-key. Well, as low-key as Amanda knows how to be. I know you’ll celebrate me when I’m home next.” There’s a noise like my mom is going to start worrying, so I quickly add, “And don’t worry about today, Chelsea has a whole plan to spoil me.”
“Ooh Chelsea,” Hyla sings.
“And how is Chelsea ?” my mom asks with the same lilt in her voice.
“You guys are annoying.”
“I’m still working on your ship name. Now that I know her last name is Winters—”
“How do you know her last name?”
“Uh…”
“Hyla Aria.”
“Trevor Mitchell.”
“Hy.”
She inhales deeply and forcefully lets it out. “Fine. We follow each other on Instagram.”
Mom laughs loudly at that.
“You’re stalking my girlfriend?”
“Not stalking. But she’s very pretty,” Mom says.
“Wait. Chelsea is following you back?” I ask Hyla.
“Yep.” She pops the P.
“Have you talked to her?”
“Not yet. Just learning everything I can about my future sister-in-law.”
“She won’t be that if I disown you first.”
I pull up outside Chelsea’s building to a chorus of laughter from my mom and Hyla. They get into too much trouble when left to their own devices. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re both social media stalking us on every platform, waiting to see pictures of the two of us together.
“As fun as this phone call has been, I have to—”
“Wow, only a few weeks in and you’re already making me walk to your car? Is chivalry dead?” Chelsea’s playful voice dances through the car as she swings the door open and climbs in, putting a cooler in the backseat as she does.
A squeal rings out, and I groan.
“Is that her?” Mom asks.
I turn to Chelsea. “There was a reason I didn’t get out of my car yet. Do we need to come up with a signal so you know when it’s not safe?”
My voice gets rumblier than it should when I’m still on the phone with my mom and sister, but I stop functioning normally when Chelsea is around.
“What could be unsafe about this?” Chelsea teases.
“Trevor Matteny,” my mother says.
“Fine. Chelsea, you’re on with my mom and Hyla. Good luck.”
But Chelsea just smiles brightly. “Hi. It’s nice to, uh, talk with you both.”
“You too. Is my son behaving himself and being a good boy?”
“Uh…”
“Mom!”
“Seriously, we might not want to know the answer to that,” Hyla says.
“Well, this has been fun, but Chelsea and I have a date to get to. I’ll see you both in a couple of weeks.”
“Are you bringing Chelsea with you?” Mom asks.
Chelsea’s eyes widen and she looks at me questioningly.
“We haven’t talked about that yet, so thanks for throwing me under the bus.”
“Anytime!” Mom says cheerily.
“Yeah. It’s our job. Our right .”
“And it’s my right to hang up the phone now. Love you, bye.”
“Bye, honey. Nice talking to you, Chelsea.”
“You too.”
There’s another round of happy birthdays and goodbyes, then I finally hang up the phone.
Chelsea is staring at me, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Well, that was fun.”
“Maybe for you.”
She pokes my cheek. “Aw, you’re so cute when you do the grumpy thing. Don’t act like you don’t love your mom and sister.”
I sigh because she’s right. They’re the most important people in my life. Only now Chelsea is on that list too.
“I love them, but they give me headaches.”
She buckles her seatbelt, then looks over at me, eyes dancing. “So, what were they talking about you bringing me to in a couple of weeks?”
“You know about Rae and Aaron’s bachelorette and bachelor party shenanigans?”
“Amanda and Sarah have mentioned some things.”
“I’ll be home for the night beforehand, and that’s what Mom was talking about. I’d love for you to come meet her, but I don’t know exactly where we are on things like that. But if you want to, you can come for a couple of hours or stay the night, or whatever—”
“Trev. Breathe.”
“Sorry.”
“I’d love to meet your mom and Hyla. And I’m getting kind of used to snuggling in bed with you, so I wouldn’t mind staying overnight.”
I lean in and kiss her. “Good answer.”
She brushes her thumb over my cheek and smiles at me. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, baby.”
“Ready for your super special birthday date?”
“I can’t wait to see what mischief you have up your sleeve. Just tell me where we’re going.”
She doesn’t. She leads me on a wild goose chase of random side streets until we end up on campus and she has me park in some side lot that’s away from most buildings.
“Still not going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask.
She pops a kiss on my cheek. “See if you can figure it out.”
I grab the cooler before she can, then meet her at the back of the car. “Lead the way.”
She takes a random path off the edge of the parking lot I didn’t know existed. We pass a sign that reads “college camp” and I stare at the trail as we pass.
“We have a college camp?”
Her brows shoot up. “Wow, you really said, eh, my friends have a lake house, I guess I’ll go there, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “Pretty much. It was more about the friends than the lake house, though.”
“Well, the college camp can be a date for another day. There are hiking trails there along with a field station with all kinds of biology and meteorology things.”
I blink at her.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “I actually checked this place out before I decided to come here. Plus, Robbie went here. Anyway, come on. We’re almost there.”
I follow her and don’t realize where we are or where we’re going until we’re there.
Chelsea smiles at me as we look at the baseball stadium in front of us.
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
She sighs dramatically. “It didn’t happen in a baseball stadium.”
“But a baseball player…” After hearing she had a panic attack when she found out I played baseball, I’ve been cautious about bringing it up in front of her.
“Maybe he was or maybe he wasn’t. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I refuse to let what he did affect our relationship—affect something that’s a part of you. A part I want to know. So take me inside and let me see it—and love it—through your eyes.”
I stare at her for a beat longer, making sure there’s no true hesitance in her eyes. When she shoves my shoulder, I finally relent and grab her hand, leading her into the stadium.
When we get inside, I take her to the field, because that’s the best part. Watching a game is amazing, but there’s nothing like being on the field.
We stand at home plate, and I get a little lost staring out at the field.
“Sure you’re okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah. I can handle this. Syracuse, not so much. I haven’t been back since I left school, and the thought of going back makes me want to vomit. But this? I don’t know. Being here with you makes it feel like an extension of you.”
I sigh, the rush of peace and the pang of nostalgia washing over me. “To some degree it is. They might not have happened on this field, but some of the best moments of my life happened on the ball field.”
“What position did you play?”
“Third base.”
Then I’m running down the line, pulling her after me, until I’m standing at third, and looking over the place from my favorite point of view.
“What’s your favorite baseball memory?”
I smile at that, emotion washing over me. If I close my eyes, I could be there again.
“Easy. We won the state championship game in eleventh grade. It was the dream team. I was on third, Nick was shortstop, Joel was on second, Rae’s shitty ex Davey was on first—but we’ll pretend he didn’t exist—Miles was catching, and Aaron was serving a masterclass in pitching. We had some killer plays that night, but really being out on the field with some of my best friends was the best part. I’ll never forget the feeling when Aaron struck out the last guy to win us the game. That night was one of the best of my life.”
When I turn to her, she has a massive smile on her face. “That sounds amazing. I wish I could’ve seen it.” She brushes her thumb over my cheek. “The joy on your face right now is indescribable. I have lots of happy memories, but I’m not sure I have one that stands out like that. That’s special.”
I squeeze her hand. “It is. Most of my other favorite baseball memories involve my dad.”
“He played too, right? What position?”
My eyes drift to the outfield. “Right field. He tried and tried to get me to play outfield. He told me how underrated of a position it was, but I hated waiting to track down a fly ball or hope for a double to get out there. I loved the intensity of the infield, and third base called to me. Once he saw how well I took to it, he never pushed me toward the outfield again. He helped coach my little league teams, and loved being a part of the game, even when he wasn’t playing anymore. I understand why now. He just loved it. He knew so many baseball stats and that translated into a deeper love of the sport for me. And I think that’s the difference in players. Some people play because the sport is fun and they enjoy it. But then there are those of us who have a piece of baseball inside us. We know years and years worth of stats, analyze games, and will keep baseball in our lives any way we can have it.” I blow out a breath. “Sorry. I jumped on my soapbox.”
But then I glance at her and find her staring at me with a giant smile on her face.
“That’s what I wanted. You light up at the mere mention of baseball, and I don’t want you to hold that back. That fire inside you—the passion for the game you love—I want to see more of that. I know you were worried about how I would feel, and maybe I was a bit too, but after seeing this through your eyes, I can’t imagine not feeling the same happiness I do now.”
“Even if I’m not playing?”
“Whether you’re helping with the team or sitting next to me watching, I know it’ll bring you joy, and when you smile, it’s impossible for me not to smile too.”
“Baby…” I pull her into my arms, holding her tightly and playing with her long, wild hair. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
There’s a heavy pause, then she whispers, “Happy birthday, Trevor.”
And even though I probably shouldn’t, what I hear in her voice and the emotion behind those words is I love you . Or maybe I’m projecting because with every passing day, I’m becoming more and more certain. She’s not just my dream girl. She’s the love of my life.
We’re laughing and chatting as we sit on a picnic blanket behind third base. Chelsea brought Loganberry and sandwiches from The Lake Shack, the place I took her on our first date. Which is when it hits me…
“It’s been a month since our first date.”
“You’ve put up with my crazy for four whole weeks. You must really like me,” she teases.
“Didn’t I tell you something that day about not being self-deprecating?”
She shakes her head. “Not self-deprecating if it’s true. I’m not saying it in a bad way. You’ve seen most sides of me now—except for my wildest one. Then you’ll learn how crazy I can be.”
“I prefer the other word you just said. Wild . Everything about you has a wildness to it. Your eyes, your hair, your smile, your mouth.” She laughs at that. “You’re wild and free. I love that about you.”
She leans in, those wild eyes dancing, and kisses me. It’s surprisingly soft and sweet, and when she pulls away, she looks out at the field.
“So, we covered baseball. Tell me about your best birthday ever… though at this point I’m expecting baseball to be a part of it.”
I laugh at that because it’s true. “You called it.”
That same wistful feeling sweeps over me. My eyes go to right field again, and as I stare beyond the wall, warmth surrounds me for a moment, and I feel like my dad is here with me. It might be all internal mind-games, but it’s comforting to feel that connection to him today.
I clear my throat and look at Chelsea. “It was my ninth birthday, and the minor league team in Binghamton was playing in the minor league championship down in Pennsylvania. So my dad organized a trip for us to go down there—I had no idea where they were playing, so I thought we were just going to Hershey Park. Which we did. We spent a day there, him, my mom, me, and Hyla. We did the chocolate tour and went on rides for hours. The next morning, we had this fancy breakfast, then left early and drove to Allentown, where the game was being held. I was so excited when we got there, but then my dad pulled out the showstopper. A meet and greet with the team. To this day, I have no idea how he pulled that off, but he laughed with the GM like they were old friends, while the players signed jerseys for Hyla and me. Binghamton won, and we celebrated with dinner at Waffle House—and I had candles in my waffles. It was amazing, and I will never forget the unending joy on my dad’s face for all of it. Never a complaint. When we got stuck in traffic, he turned up the radio. He made every birthday special, but that was one for the books.”
Chelsea leans against me and looks up at me, eyes rimmed with tears. “That’s why you don’t like to make a big deal about your birthday.” Her voice is hushed, as if in awe of the story I just told.
I let out a sigh.
I shouldn’t be surprised she figured it out.
She sees me. Even when I try to hide and say I’m all good, she sees right through me. I kind of love that.
I rub my hand down her back, twirling her hair around my finger. “Yeah. But today has reminded me why celebrating it is important.” I brush my lips over her cheek. “Thank you.”
“I still have one last thing for you. It’s not big or fancy because I know you can get yourself whatever you want, but I hope you like it.”
She pulls a small box from her purse and hands it to me.
I lift the top off the black box and pull out a keychain. It’s shaped like a baseball jersey and is gray and red—Ida’s colors. When I look closer, I see my last name and high school number on it—twelve.
“Flip it over,” she whispers.
And when I do, I see my last name again, but this jersey is white with red pinstripes, and the number is my dad’s—number six.
“How did you—”
“I called your mom. She even found a photo of your dad in an Ida jersey—what they looked like when he was in high school. Then I made the designs online and took it to a local shop to have it made.”
“It’s perfect.” I pull her to me and kiss her hard, telling her with my body what I’m not quite ready to say with my words. “You’re perfect,” I breathe.
“Agree to disagree,” she says against my lips. “But I’m glad you like it. Thank you for letting me in and showing me this side of you.”
I break our kiss and rest my forehead against hers. “Thank you for wanting to see it.”
One more kiss, then I tug her over and widen my legs so she can sit between them, peace washing over me when she does.
She grabs the cooler and gets the cupcakes from the local bakery out, handing one to me and quietly singing Happy Birthday .
Today has been so much more than I thought it could be. Mostly because of Chelsea and partly because of my mindset. I stopped thinking my birthdays could be as special without my dad. While nothing will ever beat my ninth birthday, everything about this quiet, heartfelt celebration with the girl who has stolen my heart makes me think this might be the best birthday since then, and I wouldn’t mind a whole lot more spent like this.