Chapter 16 Landon
LANDON
The field looked smaller than I remembered.
Or maybe I was bigger—older, taller, stressed.
The grass wasn’t the lush green I’d built up in my mind.
Instead, it was scruffy and uneven, clinging to patches of dirt.
The bases, if you could still call them that, were barely visible, faded rectangles that might as well have been chalk outlines of memories.
I waited for Kira.
Her text message asking to meet me here took me by surprise. I hadn’t reached out at all, wanting to respect her request for space. Truthfully, I thought space meant a longer time apart. I was grateful, though one week apart was more than enough for me.
In just a few minutes, she walked down the field, holding a red ball by her hip.
Her hair was pulled into a ponytail under the cap she wore, and her cheeks were pink from the cool air.
She was dressed athletically, and I was glad I happened to wear athletic gear, as I had a feeling about what we were doing here tonight.
“Hey,” I greeted her, shoving my hands into the pockets of my gray hoodie. Just to make sure they didn’t reach out to her of their own volition. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She gave me a small smile, then looked around the field. “It’s nostalgic standing here. When we were kids, the field seemed huge, like some kind of kickball stadium.”
I laughed, kicking at the dirt around the home plate. “Yeah, back then, kicking the ball to the outfield felt like winning the Super Bowl. You were scary good. Had all the boys shaking in their cleats.”
Kira let out a laugh, her breath visible in the cold air. “Right. If by ‘scary good’ you mean I tripped over my own feet enough times to be terrified, then sure.”
I grinned, unable to help it. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re doing something every day that scares us.”
“You’re scared of kickball?”
“Not exactly.” She tossed the red ball in the air and caught it with both hands, palms flat. “But I am scared of facing truths from the past.”
Which truths?
Then she stepped forward and gently pressed the ball against my chest. “This is for you.”
I snorted. “How did you know I prefer balls over flowers and chocolate?”
She gave me a teasing look. “Are you implying this is a date?”
I faltered. “Kind of hard to call it a date when the girl I like asks for space.”
Her expression softened, and she looked away for a moment. “Kickball represents a lot of things from our past, so let’s just play a round. I’ll kick first.”
I’d always looked at kickball fondly, probably because it brought me to Kira.
We got to know each other while playing on the same team.
We got to argue with each other when we were on separate teams. We had our first kiss in the dugout.
Plus, multiple make-out sessions there at night, which was very scandalous for the teenage versions of us.
But we could make some new memories, too.
She walked over to the kicking box, and I couldn’t help admiring the shape of her ass in those leggings. The years had been good to Kira.
Damn it, Landon. Not the right time.
I placed the ball on the dirt and rolled my shoulders with exaggerated flair. Kira laughed, and it sent me a little jolt of adrenaline.
The ball rolled toward her, wobbling slightly over the uneven ground. I held my breath, watching as she ran forward and connected with the ball in one fluid motion.
It wasn’t a home run, but it soared higher than I expected, arching toward the outfield.
I let out a curse, chasing after it, sneakers slipping a little on the damp ground.
The air stung my face, but I didn’t care.
For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, like we were kids again, running wild under the sun.
By the time I jogged back to her, the ball tucked under my arm, my breath was coming in shorter puffs. I need to do more cardio. Kira stood there with her arms crossed, her grin as smug as it was playful.
“You’re onto something,” she said, tilting her head. “This is better than flowers.”
“I have my moments.” I tossed her the ball. “Your turn, champ.”
Kira didn’t waste any time, rolling me the ball as soon as she made it to the mound. Her hand-eye coordination never ceased to impress me. When the ball neared, I kicked it farther than anticipated, soaring over her head. Whoops.
She turned and started to run, but I ran after her. Kira might be skilled in kickball, but I was always the faster runner. She hadn’t made it very far before I caught her, throwing my arms around her waist and pulling her toward me.
“Cheater!” she exclaimed, trying to pull her way out of my embrace.
“I forfeit,” I said, flexing my arms.
Turning around in my embrace, she asked, “You forfeit already?”
“Already? Did you expect me to forfeit this whole time?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Without thinking, I thrust her over my shoulder. The good ole sack of potatoes trick.
“What are you doing?” She pounded her fists against my back. “You’re sweaty.”
“I’m taking back my forfeit and getting the ball.” I carried her to where the kickball lay in the grass. “We’ll call it even.”
“I don’t think it counts if I’m incapacitated.”
I tapped her on that sweet ass, and she yelped.
“Okay, fine! We’re even.”
Slowly, I released her back to the ground. “Thank you.”
It felt like the past was merging with the present.
I’d been so focused lately on being there for Kira, on seeing if she was capable of offering forgiveness and letting go of the past, but I hadn’t spent any time considering what I should do if I obtained it.
Of course my priority was to make sure Kira went after everything she wanted, but it wasn’t until now that I thought that could also include me.
Maybe, after all these years, she still wanted me a smidgeon of how much I wanted her. I could live with that. I had enough love for both of us.
But I wouldn’t do anything that made her uncomfortable. She had already shared her anxieties with me, and I didn’t want to make any of them worse. I had to be patient. Let Kira take the lead.
So I waited for her to lead.
Kira stared at the ground, kicking lightly at a tuft of grass before finally lifting her eyes to meet mine. There was something raw and searching in her gaze. “I saw my parents the other day.”
“You went to Wisconsin?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I talked to my mom about the letter.”
I went still, hanging onto every word like they were the edge of a cliff I didn’t want to fall from. “What did she say?”
“She admitted to hiding the first page. She left behind only the page that said ‘I’m sorry.’” Her voice wavered. “Landon, I’m sorry for not believing you.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize.”
“But—”
“No buts.” I reached for her hand, brushing my fingers lightly against hers. “It’s unfortunate that it happened, but we can’t change the past. Maybe we needed to grow individually away from each other.”
Kira looked away, her jaw trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t feel like I’ve grown much. I’m still struggling to know who I am.”
I let out a breath, stunned. “You’re kidding, right?
You used to shy away from any leadership role, and now you lead an art class.
You used to struggle with speaking your mind, but you’ve had no problem telling me your true thoughts recently.
Not to mention, you’re applying for an elite art residency program.
Your twenties are for figuring out who you are, which is exactly what you’re doing. ”
“The residency is only because of you.”
“I may have encouraged you to apply, but the rest is all you.”
Her eyes glistened. “Things are just easier with you, Landon. Better. You make me feel secure, like I can accomplish anything. You make me feel cherished.” Her chin wobbled. “I hate that we’ve lost so much time.”
“You are cherished,” I said, barely above a whisper. I took her hand fully this time and held it to my chest. “And you’re loved. Always were. I hate the lost time too, but we’re here now. That’s what matters.”
She gave a trembling nod, blinking fast. “I used to be so scared of change. Of getting hurt again. That’s why I’m trying to do more things that terrify me.”
I brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek.
“I’m not afraid when I’m with you,” she whispered. “With other people, I always had to perform or be something they expected. But you see me, Landon.”
I swallowed, overwhelmed. “What are you saying, Kira?”
“I want us to have a second chance.” Her voice was stronger now. Certain. “I want to be with you.”
I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, tentative at first—then fully, deeply—as she melted into me. Warmth spread through my chest, so strong it felt like sunlight had cracked me open from the inside. My heart pounded, but in a steady, exhilarating way.
“Really?”
“Really,” she whispered back, her voice muffled against my shoulder. Then she leaned back just far enough to smirk through her tears. “But don’t think this means I’ll go easy on you in kickball.”
“I would never.”
Her lips parted slightly, and before I could think better of it, my fingers brushed against her wrist. Just barely. But even that tiny touch sent a pulse of heat through me. She didn’t pull away.
Her eyes locked on mine, daring me, waiting, and when her gaze dropped to my lips, the last thread of restraint I had snapped.
I didn’t hesitate. I surged forward, my hands finding her waist as my lips crashed against hers. The moment our mouths met, the tension that had been stretching between us exploded.
She gasped into the kiss, and I swallowed the sound, pulling her closer, needing her closer. Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping it like she was afraid I’d pull away. No chance in hell.
I deepened the kiss, tilting my head to taste more of her, to feel every inch of the moment I’d been craving for longer than I was willing to admit. Her hands slid up my chest, over my shoulders, her touch setting my skin on fire.
The kickball field, the past, and the world disappeared. There was only the heat of her mouth, the way her body pressed against mine, the slow, aching realization that I was completely, hopelessly lost in her.