For not telling you how I felt before my jerk teammate asked you out. For not protecting you from him when you deserved better. For not being able to shield you from the fallout of his lies.
For not ignoring that man and kissing you senseless when I had the chance.
A sigh slumps my shoulders. “For what that guy said.”
“He just stated a fact,” she says, almost impassively. “Aaron doesn’t want me.”
I do. I always have.
But I’m not sure if I’ll make things better if I tell Kenzie the truth, so I stay quiet.
Silence surrounds us for the short drive home. By the time we check on a sleeping Jet, I’m more exhausted than after a double-header. I collapse on the couch, staring blankly at the darkened TV.
Long seconds tick by before I remember something. There’d been a time in college when I thought I’d blown it after completely messing up in front of a scout. I figured there was no way I’d get drafted that year. The next day, when the scout called to tell me I’d been selected, I blurted, “Why?” He told me about how he’d seen me run after a teammate when he’d forgotten his water bottle on his way out, how I’d stayed behind to clean the dugout, how I’d gone out of my way to reassure one of the younger pitchers. “I already knew you could play ball, son. I wanted to know what kind of person you were.”
I surge to my feet, prepared to tell Kenzie everything. The past year aside, I’ve prided myself in being up front and honest. In this situation, it might make things awkward, Kenzie might not want anything to do with me afterward, but she deserves to know how I feel.
I startle when I find Kenzie standing behind the couch, holding Banks like a shield.
“Oh, hey.” My attempt at casual fails spectacularly when my voice cracks.
“Hey.” The corner of her mouth twitches. “Could you sit back down? I want to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” I plop down, gripping my knee and forcing myself to draw in a slow breath while she rounds the couch.
Kenzie bypasses her spot in the corner, sitting so close that our legs touch hip to knee. I nearly swallow my tongue.
“I had this idea the other day,” she says, pressing her shoulder against mine. “I thought we could try a slow transfer.”
“A slow transfer?”
I can barely concentrate as Kenzie licks her lips, her gaze still on Banks.
“Yeah.” She slides her fingers beneath Banks on her lap and shifts his front paws onto my thigh. “It’s not fair that he only snuggles with me.”
Banks gives out a low growl of protest when Kenzie shifts him farther onto my leg.
“You don’t have to do this. It’s okay that he likes you best.”
I can’t blame him. I like you best.
“No.” She continues shifting Banks onto my lap in small increments. “After all you’ve done for him, after all you’ve given him— Not to mention how warm you always are and how good you smell…” Kenzie looks up then, her green eyes meeting mine for the first time since we left the sports bar. “He should like you.”
Her ribs expand against mine, and I fight the urge to close my eyes at the blissful sensation.
“It’s okay that he’s been hurt by someone else becauseyouwouldn’t hurt him.”
I blink. It’s clear we’re no longer talking about Banks.
“I would never.”
Kenzie’s gaze bounces from my eyes to my lips. “I thought so.”
She sways forward an inch before straightening with a noisy inhale. Disappointment surges through my veins, but I try not to let it show as she returns her gaze to mine.
“I like math.”
I nod, not sure where this is going. “I know you do.”
