Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
kendra
Jonathan Crosby Sr. had run the Minutemen for forty years.
In all that time, the public scandals had been limited to one slugger whose drug test had come back positive for illegal substances.
After listening to our story, he made it clear that the media’s silence on scandals stemmed from the organization keeping things quiet.
“This is about as bad as it could get. If you act against him, the union can claim retribution. Since there have never been charges filed, no indictments; there is nothing linking him to a crime. He’s also never been accused by anyone else.”
“I think we need to lie low,” I said. Jonathan Sr. nodded, eliciting a groan of frustration from Jonathan.
“There is no way I can have him around Kendra—fuck, there’s no way I can be around him, either.” This is what I was afraid of, that Tucker would find a way to push Jonathan over the edge and somehow get the upper hand.
“I tend to agree with Kendra in this case. Unless she wants to move forward with charges—” he looked over at me, giving me a chance to respond.
I shook my head, a resounding no. “He’s already threatened to send videos to my father—I can’t let him see that.”
“As a father, I agree. It could be devastating—and might actually get me to commit a crime if it were my own daughter.”
“I don’t doubt that from my dad, either,” I said.
“Besides lying low, what else can we do?”
“I can call my investigator. In the meantime, we watch him like a hawk and catch him on conduct every chance we get.”
After leaving the meeting with his grandfather, Jonathan surprised me with a massage booking to help with my post-race recovery, and I could have cried in thanks. How I thought I could work the day after running a marathon, I couldn’t explain.
“I can bring you out, or cook at home. Which do you prefer?”
Home. He’d been referring to the penthouse as home, and I liked it. I had no firm plans to move out of my apartment; the lease was still good through June, but I didn’t see myself ever spending another night there.
“What are my options at home?” The smile I earned when I repeated the phrase was worth it.
“Homemade ravioli with Nonna’s Bolognaise.”
“God, you spoil me.”
“That’s my job.”
He checked his phone and tapped out a response to someone. Maybe it was because we’d found no solutions when we’d talked to his grandfather, but I wasn’t feeling motivated to check my work e-mail. I wanted to bury myself in Jonathan, eat ravioli, and forget that anything existed outside of us.
I didn’t think I could hate Tucker more than I did, but seeing how he directly impacted my relationship and Jonathan’s peace, increased that feeling exponentially.
Instead of driving, he’d ordered a car for us today. Would I ever get used to that? Probably never. I also wouldn’t get used to the second luxury vehicle showing up in the garage as he quietly added a key to my key ring.
He wasn’t flashy, but the things Jonathan thought I needed just showed up.
And while I had planned to buy Kelsey’s old, trusty Honda, he and Sam had found a reason to nix that.
Something about the engine that I suspected was bullshit.
The boys loved their cars, but I thought the G-Wagon was a bit boxy. And white? Definitely a chick car.
As we ate our dinner, Jonathan did everything he could to keep the feelings light, to keep us in the bubble and avoid the shitstorm that awaited us outside.
“If you could live anywhere in or around Boston, where would it be?”
“I love the penthouse.”
“But do you see us here long-term?”
“I don’t know. Kelsey and Sam are looking at Concord. But I really love your grandparents’ neighborhood in Brookline. It’s still close to everything, feels like a city, but also a neighborhood.”
Jesus, how had I found myself in a world where asking to live in Brookline was ever an option on the table?
“Do you see us there? Or better yet, when you imagine yourself there, who do you see next to you?”
The vulnerability that shone back at me nearly knocked me on my knees.
“I see us together. With our family.”
“What does our family look like, Ken?” His voice cracked, and I knew we both wanted the same thing. But he would wait forever until I asked.
“Babies, dogs, maybe a cat or two. Not right away, but eventually.”
“I wasn’t sure that was what you wanted.”
“What? The babies? Or you?”
“The babies.”
“I wasn’t either. But the uncertainty wasn’t because I never wanted it; it was because I was afraid of it. Everything about you—about our relationship—has forced me out of that comfort zone. I don’t want to go back there; it wasn’t a life.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “I won’t ever push your timeline, but I’ve always seen this future with you.”