Chapter 20
Kenzie
The second the words are out of my mouth, I’m weightless.
Trevor uses one broad hand to pick me up while his other rearranges chips and salsa bowls before setting me on the counter.
A surprised puff escapes my lips before Trevor devours them like a starving man.
The kiss is so intense that fragmented sparks shoot behind my closed eyes—a spectral kaleidoscope.
I thought our first kiss had been life altering, but wow—
This is another level.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, about this.”
He all but growls the words like he’s…mad?
Can someone be angry while also delivering a kiss so mind-blowing that my knees would’ve buckled had I not been placed on the kitchen island?
I have no idea. All I know is the press of Trevor’s lips against mine, his strong body between my knees, is enough to render me temporarily amnesic.
I couldn’t do simple arithmetic right now.
When Trevor’s lips work their way to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, an involuntary sound escapes me as I soften. I’m basically the consistency of the flan I have cooling in the fridge. My neck tilts to the side to give him more access, and his approving hum does weird things to my pulse.
Then, all of a sudden, he’s gone. Not exactly gone, but his forehead slumps against my shoulder as he pulls his body away. Only his hands remain on my legs, heavy and twitching, like he’s the one about to collapse.
“We need to slow down,” he tells me, out of breath.
“Or…” I say, leaning forward to continue our kiss.
Trevor chuckles then, raising his head with such an affectionate gaze that I almost stop breathing. “I knew you’d be trouble.”
Me? Miss Rule Follower? The person who’s never DNFed a book even if I hated it because once I start something I have to finish it?
His head shakes with a secret smile, muttering what sounds suspiciously like, “The death of me.”
He pats my legs before removing his touch.
My gaze follows his hands, and the oddest thought occurs to me.
I love those hands. They’re callused and scarred from years of baseball, from making quick plays and launching a ball over a hundred feet while on his knees.
But they’re also gentle and caring with Banks and Jet.
And with me? They’re perfectly possessive while also making me feel cherished.
Trevor leans forward, placing a quick kiss at my temple. “Let’s eat, Kenz. I don’t want all your effort to go to waste.”
I’m about to tell him to throw it all in the trash before reason comes crawling back. “You’re probably hungry.”
“Always.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, but his smile is different this time. There’s this flirty wanting in his gaze that sparks a bloom of heat behind my breastbone. Before I can do anything about it, Trevor lifts me off the counter and sets me gently on the ground.
“I really do appreciate all of this.”
Instead of deflecting or downplaying my efforts, I simply say, “You’re welcome.”
Our late-night meal is as comfortable as the many others we’ve shared, except now there’s a pulsing undertow of anticipation. I know I set the ‘slow’ boundary, but maybe that was a misstep? I shake my head slightly. It’s better to take my time with this relationship.
But as Trevor’s appreciative groans of delight wiggle their way under my skin, all I can think about is how I’m thankful that he has home games for the rest of the week.
“Yes!” Mallory shouts two weeks later, jumping from the couch and startling Banks. I’m honestly surprised he’s out here at all since he prefers to hide in his room when company is over. Jet, meanwhile, alternates between chewing on Mallory’s shoelaces and hopping on and off her lap.
“It’s okay, Banksy,” I coo, picking him up and tucking him into the cat carrier.
Mallory looks away from the replay of her husband initiating a double play that ended the inning with an eyebrow quirk. “I have to ask. Why do you look like you’re trying to smuggle him across enemy lines?”
“This?” I point to the sling. “Trevor got it for me so I could be hands free while carrying him.”
“And we’re carrying a cat because…”
“He likes it.” I stroke Banks’s soft head with a single fingertip as he lolls it over the carrier’s padded edge, looking at Mallory upside down.
“He looks like he’s about to file a complaint.”
“He’s cozy, clearly living his best life.”
Mallory chuckles. “If you say so.”
Once Trevor left for this stint of nine away games, I crossed a new item off my Do It Scared list—befriend Mallory.
There were a few reasons I wanted to befriend Mallory.
First, she’s incredible and a genuinely kind person.
Second, I wasn’t ready to tell my parents—who I usually tell everything—about Trevor and me.
If I thought the squealing Mallory had done when she found out about Aaron and I had been extreme, she’d practically lost her voice with excitement over my newest relationship.
And third, Mallory could give me some much-needed insight into actually dating a major league baseball player.
I know how that sounds. Kenzie, what are you talking about?
You dated a pitcher for nine months. Technically, I did, but my dating experience had been so limited I hadn’t known what to expect with Aaron.
Other than a handful of either uneventful or embarrassingly bad dates—like the time I went to the bathroom and the guy stole my purse, I’d never been in a relationship.
Aaron showering me with gifts and compliments while scheduling one-hour meals with me on the one day he had off a week felt like top-tier courtship.
That’s what they show in the movies, right?
Gratuitous gifts. Good morning text messages without fail.
Rushing into an engagement while telling me I was his soulmate.
Mallory informed me point blank that what I thought was romantic was actually love bombing.
After that, I started seeing our whirlwind relationship under a different lens.
Had Aaron ever asked me a question about myself during any of those dinners?
Why was my engagement ring white gold when I exclusively wear yellow gold?
Why had he waited to introduce me to his parents?
That last question makes me feel a little guilty because, as far as my parents know, Trevor is still my roommate, but I think we all can agree dating for a few weeks and intending to marry are two very different things.
Thinking of Trevor sends my mind skipping to my new favorite memories.
Before he left for these away games, I kept finding excuses to corner and kiss him.
The most successful locations were the laundry room, the walk-in pantry, and his closet when I asked to borrow another hoodie since the first one had lost his scent.
I woke each morning with the intention of maintaining my ‘slow’ boundary, but every time we enjoyed a late breakfast together, or he stretched while I gardened, or snuggled with our furry roommates, it was incredibly hard to keep my distance.
On Trevor’s day off—right before he left—I loaded myself with motion sickness meds, strapped acupressure bands on both wrists, and asked him to take me out on the boat again.
I needed to redeem that first day together and try my hand at the helm again.
Turns out, for as protective as Trevor is, he’s a limp noodle when it comes to saying no to me.
Fortunately, my preventative measures worked. I didn’t toss my cookies over the side. I was still a little nauseated when we arrived at Wilks Beach, but a nice long walk by the shore settled my stomach before we had a delicious lunch at Bayside Table to finally celebrate the end of tax season.
The best part of that day date?
It one hundred percent ended in a kiss, no almost about it.
My gaze skips to the screen as Trevor’s walk-up song blares through the surround sound speakers.
I can’t help the way my breath hitches as the camera zooms on his face.
My heartrate ticks up and not just from the anxious anticipation of whether this at-bat will end with one of Trevor’s famed home runs.
“You really like him,” Mallory says, tone warm.
“Hmm?”
That’s all the response I can muster since I’m currently mesmerized by Trevor’s tense thighs as he sets his stance. No wonder he can always pick me up and tote me around. Those things are tree trunks. Also, who designed baseball pants? I want to send them a handwritten thank-you note—with stickers.
Mallory lets out a soft laugh, but I can’t pull my eyes from the screen. We both cheer when Trevor hits a solid double off a curveball. Then Kai is up to bat and brings Trevor home with a home run. I hold Banks steady as my new friend and I jump-squeal with excitement.
“You need to come to the home game on Friday so we can do this in person.”
All my elation is efficiently squashed. I’ve thought about joining Mallory in the stands again, but the Waves stadium is still the scene of my life’s biggest embarrassment. I’m not sure I’m ready to return to the place where I was so publicly humiliated.
“Maybe it’s too soon,” I hedge. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
Mallory levels me with a look like Come on.
“I know we agreed to never speak his name again,” Mallory says, her voice softening, “but Aaron was a walking red flag. I’m sorry you didn’t know that when you started dating him.
Sometimes guys are really good at hiding that about themselves.
But”—Mallory sets her hands on my shoulders, ducking down because she’s wearing sneaker heels with her custom Waves logo-patterned minidress, even though it’s just the two of us in my living room—“here’s the important part: these men couldn’t be any more different.
Trevor is sweet and thoughtful, and he’ll be deliriously happy that you came to his game. It won’t be like last time. I promise.”
I take a deep breath as her words wash over me. Mallory is right, but knowing this doesn’t dissipate the anxiety spiraling through my veins.
Do it anyway, my mind supplies. Do it scared.
“Okay,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel. “I’ll come with you on Friday. Just don’t tell anyone. I want Trevor to be surprised.”
Her mouth slips into a scheming smile. “I love that idea.”
I refresh both of our drinks before returning to the couch.
The more I think about it, the more a sense of rightness settles deep in my chest. After all he’s gone through with his family, Trevor deserves to have someone who cares about him in the stands.
A bloom of joy ribbons through my ribs that, in two short days, that person will be me.
In the meantime, I’m excited for whatever mystery plans Trevor has for us tomorrow. He’d texted before the game started, asking if I was free. I chuckled to myself at the sweet request. As if I wouldn’t clear my schedule on the one day he’s off after being gone for nine days straight.
Mallory and I chat and gossip throughout the rest of the game.
After she leaves, I barely stifle my buzzing anticipation at seeing Trevor tomorrow morning.
I’m pretty sure you can’t have withdrawal from kissing, but tell that to the twitchy sensation sweeping my arms and legs.
One thing is for sure—tomorrow is going to be a very good day.