Chapter 24
Kenzie
Ipad toward the kitchen in my socks and striped sleep set, knowing I should be in bed.
It’s just that my skin feels electrified.
Every cell in my body is antsy. I’m coated in adrenaline and cotton candy and sparklers all at once.
If Trevor is asleep, I’ll head back to my room and stare at the ceiling. But if he’s up…
The devastating kiss I received as Trevor helped me out of the truck when we got home keeps playing on a loop. He’d held me just off the ground, his hands firm around my waist before kissing me into oblivion. I brush my fingers over my hypersensitive lips.
Here’s hoping for a repeat.
I’ll sleep soundly if I get just one more kiss.
Unfortunately, all I find in the kitchen is a half-drunk glass of water beside the sink.
Telling myself it’s silly to be disappointed, I set out ingredients for pancakes for tomorrow.
The idea of Trevor’s bleary eyes brightening when he finds out I made his favorite breakfast makes my lips lift.
I don’t have Trevor’s millions, but I can do small acts with great love to show him that I care.
I almost turn back toward my side of the house when I hear a weird buzzing sound.
Peeking into Banks’s room, I grin at both cats sleeping in a cozy pile.
The sweet way both of Jet’s paws are tucked between Banks’s makes me want to take a picture to show Trevor.
I press my palm over my heart and watch them for a few more seconds before the odd sound seems to intensify, almost like a miniature jackhammer bursting to life.
Too curious to give up the search now, I continue toward Trevor’s side of the house. His bedroom door is open, but the sound seems to be coming from his home gym. Maybe that sound is the belt of his treadmill? Maybe I’m not alone in needing to burn off this incessant energy.
I ease the door open slowly so as to not startle Trevor.
The last thing he needs is to fall off a speeding treadmill and hurt himself, not when the Waves are having such a breakaway season.
But I don’t find Trevor on the treadmill.
Nope. He’s facing away from me on his weight bench, hunched over and shirtless.
Have I ever seen Trevor shirtless?
Surely, I must have. At least once, right?
Though I instruct my brain to try to remember, my eyes are too busy roaming the tense bunch of his shoulders, the dimples between his shoulder blades, and the muscled column of his spine.
There’s a light sheen of sweat across the tops of his shoulders, like whatever he’s doing is slightly strenuous.
His waist tapers to where the leather belt around his dress pants reflects the overbright gym lights.
A jolt hits me low in the belly when Trevor’s groan reverberates through the room. Then my appreciative perusal is cut short when he sits up to apply a massage gun to his lower back.
So that is what the sound was.
Trevor sitting upright also allows him to see me in the reflection of the gym windows. Since it’s pitch black outside, they’re basically mirrors.
“Kenzie?”
I offer a tiny wave, absolutely mortified that I’ve been caught staring.
I know that we’ve officially declared our relationship to each other, and after tomorrow it’ll be all over sports media, but at my core, I’m still the nerdy girl who was never spared a second glance.
A part of me is pinching myself that a man as good—and hot—as Trevor wants to be with me.
“Uh, hey.” I tuck my wild hair behind my ear. It’s misshapen from too much hairspray. “This is embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
I expect Trevor to tease me a little, so when he hangs head with a loud exhale, I’m confused.
“No. I should be the one apologizing.”
He turns off the device, setting it aside.
Then Trevor pauses for three long seconds, almost as if he’s gathering his strength before standing to face me.
I should concentrate on the solemn downturn of his lips, but a droplet of sweat slips from the notch of his collarbones.
I watch it slide down the subtle groove between his toned pecs then down, down, down the valley between his impressive abs.
It’s not until the droplet hits his waistband that I realize I’ve lost focus.
My gaze snaps back to Trevor’s face as my brows rush together. “Why would you apologize? I’m the one who walked in on you.”
“Because”—he runs his fingers through his hair—“my muscles hurt after dancing with you all night. If I don’t work this crick out of my lower back, I’ll be miserable all day tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, not quite getting it.
Trevor’s jaw tenses, a tendon popping in his neck. “Before the wedding, you were concerned about how this relationship would affect me, but maybe you should take some time to consider how it would affect you before…” His exhale seems to take all his energy with it. “Before we go any further.
My forehead seriously hurts from its pinched position. “I already did. The press will be mean for a few days, and then they’ll move on to something else.”
I don’t mention that Mallory also gave me a slew of tips for being in front of the cameras, like making sure to check my teeth first, holding something on purpose—coffee, a clutch, sunglasses, and always walking like I own the room.
I’ll admit those first two are easier than the third, but maybe being in front of the media is like algebraic equations. It’ll get easier the more you practice.
“No.” Trevor looks everywhere but at me. “Because I’m old.”
I can’t help the cackle leaving my lips. “You’re not old.”
“I am.” His forearm flexes with frustration. “You need to seriously consider what it will be like to be with someone who’s ten years older than you. When you’re sixty, I’ll be seventy.”
My heart practically liquifies hearing that Trevor has envisioned our future.
I haven’t let my mind wander too far down that line of thinking, but now that he’s mentioned it, I wonder what he’d look like with salt-and-pepper hair and with a grandkid on his knee. Probably like a silver fox smoke show.
“What if you wake up someday and realize you want something I’ve already lived through?” he asks quietly. “Or that you should be with someone who doesn’t need to stretch every day or use a massage gun after a night out because his back is seizing up?”
“I won’t.” My answer is automatic, resolute.
His jaw works soundlessly for a few seconds. “I just don’t want to be the reason you miss out on anything.”
I shouldn’t laugh. I really shouldn’t, but it bursts from me anyway.
“Trevor, I had the opportunity to spend my early twenties partying and trying new things, and I chose to live at home with my parents. I chose puzzle nights, and early bedtimes, and gardening in my free time.” A snort escapes me. “Listening to myself, I sound older than you, practically geriatric.”
“Those things aren’t reserved for the retired. They’re just peaceful.”
“Exactly! Not everyone wants to go on a solo trip abroad with zero itinerary or spend the evening on a club crawl that ends in a drunken tattoo.” I shudder. “Even thinking about it makes me feel sticky.”
My grin hitches higher when Trevor chuckles softly.
“Even when I decided to stretch outside my comfort zone, I put down things like climb a lighthouse and go to a wedding, not BASE-jumping a fjord or tequila tasting in Cancun. You told me I shouldn’t call myself boring, so maybe I’m just an old soul.” I shrug. “Mentally, I’m in my forties.”
His lips flatten into a hard time. “But physically, you’re twenty-six. That’s bound to catch up to us eventually.”
“Maybe.” I tilt my head, considering. “But honestly, you eat better than I do and exercise way, way more. I also don’t drink enough water. I’m basically a dehydrated house plant.”
“I can help remind you to drink water,” Trevor tells me, moving until his dress shoes brush the tips of my socks. “I’ll get you one of those water bottles with motivational hash marks on them.”
My grin feels luminescent as I tilt my chin up. “Like an aqueous affirmation system?”
“Something like that.” His easy laugh fades too quickly. “You really don’t think our age gap is an issue?”
“Nope.” I pop the word, rising on my tiptoes to peck his cheek.
Before his strong hands can capture me, I slip toward the weight bench.
“Now, have a seat. I bet it’ll be easier for me to get into the muscle than you trying to reach it from the front.
” I pick up the massage gun, turning it over in my hands.
“Is this like a point-and-shoot kind of thing, or is there a specific technique?”
“You’re sure you want to help with this?” Trevor asks, not moving.
“This.” I lift the massager, setting my lips in a smile. “Finding your reading glasses in ten years. Icing your knees in twenty.”
“I already ice my knees.”
His grumbly tone makes me shrug. “Buying your vitamins, then.”
One of the thin straps from my pajamas tilts precariously close to falling over the edge of my shoulder, and Trevor’s quippy response dies in his half-open mouth.
A thrumming energy swirls between us, as incessant as cicadas on a summer day.
I’m torn between letting the soft fabric fall off my shoulder, knowing he’ll surge over to kiss me, and tugging the strap up so I can help alleviate his back pain.
Being kissed senseless is why I’m here in the first place, but caring for Trevor takes priority.
Pulling the fabric higher on my shoulder, I pat the weight bench.
He nods, his reluctant disappointment as clear as the advertising billboards in the stadium.
Once Trevor is seated and I’ve been given instructions, I get to work soothing his muscles.
Trevor’s head dips forward as a low grunt escapes his lips.
“Is this okay?” I ask. “I’m not making it worse?”
“No, that’s incredible. But maybe just a little bit more pressure.”
The blissful noise he makes after I make the correction zips straight to the soles of my feet.
Taking my time, I focus on the left side of his lower back before moving to the right.
I’m probably being too meticulous, but Trevor doesn’t complain.
His eyes remain closed as a peaceful expression crosses his brow.
Every once in a while, he’ll wince, so I spend extra time in those spots.
When I’m done, I turn the massager off, stand in front of him, and run my fingers through his hair until his head lifts and his gaze crashes with mine.
“Payment time,” I chirp, bright and cheery.
Trevor’s slight flicker of confusion melts away when I crawl on his lap. Then his hazel eyes trace my face with such heart-wrenching devastation that my lips curl into a smile. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more beautiful than when Trevor looks at me with that absolutely lost expression.
“You’re a dream, you know that.” The words are murmured over my lips. “Kenzie—”
But Trevor doesn’t get to finish his sentence because my impatient mouth silences him.