“That’s nice of you.”
Mallory bustles past me toward the kitchen. She’s been here a few times because Trevor hosts team get-togethers at Christmas and the Fourth of July. He’s usually the one to host impromptupool parties if they get a break between home games too. As one of the longstanding players on the Waves, he takes his seniority duties seriously.
“It’s the least I could do after messing everything up yesterday.” She sets the bags down with a clunk. “I’m sorry.”
I’m wrapped in Chanel-scented arms before I can even respond, causing Banks to squirm between us.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Mallory insists.
The waterworks that had dried up momentarily start up again. “I’m not sure that’s true.”
When I bend to set Banks on the floor, he sprints for his room. And yes, I mean,hisroom. Banks, the rescue cat, has his own room. Though, honestly, he deserves it after the ordeal he went through before Trevor adopted him from the local Fur-Ever Homes shelter. The room is complete with a wall-mounted obstacle course, half a dozen hidey holes, stair runs, scratching posts, a suspended cat bed in addition to a platform one, and, of course, a state-of-the-art litter system. His food and water bowls are in the kitchen, though, so he can eat with us.
My chest pinches thinking of how much Trevor adores Banks and how ninety percent of the time, Banks prefers me. Suddenly, that doesn’t seem fair. My brain reels, thinking of ways to fix—
“It is true,” Mallory says, dragging me back to the present. “I didn’t want to be anything but supportive before, but now thatAaron has shown his true colors, I can be completely transparent.”
I wince at my former fiancé’s name. It’s like Mallory pressed her manicured nails into an open wound.
“I can tell you that…” She pauses, searching for alternatives. “Jerkwad McGee isn’t all that he’s cracked up to be.”
I snort, a tickle of warmth creeping up my forearms. “I think that’s an insult to anyone with the last name McGee.”
Mallory nods, her long brunette hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder. “Loser Lawson. Lame Lawson. Lousy, lazy, lamebrain Lawson.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “I like the alliteration.”
She comes close, gripping my upper arms and ducking until our eyes meet. Mallory is a former model who’s gorgeously tall at five-eleven, and she always,alwayswears heels. She’s an inch taller than her husband barefoot and often towers over him at public events. In every single photo of them, Kai glances up at her adoringly. They’d even done an interest piece inPeople,and in their ‘at home’ shots, Mallory wore heeled slippers like a boss. No, not like a boss. Like an ethereal, fashionable goddess.
The majestic beauty now gives me a little shake. “I’m serious, Kenzie. He’s been poisoning the team ever since he arrived last year. Why do you think Trevor’s been so worried about this season?”
My brows pinch. Trevor’s been worried? He’s always seemed like his cheery, easygoing self to me.
“It’s a problem,” she continues. “I was so happy when I found out about you two, because I knew you’d be good for him. I thought being with you might help remove the two-by-four from his backside, but”—she shrugs—“it’s not your responsibility to fix anyone, least of allhim.” She frowns, glancing in the distance before her focus snaps to me. “Trevor never mentioned any of this?”
I shake my head.
Mallory sighs in that affectionately exasperated way of hers. “Figures. That man wouldn’t speak ill of the Devil himself.”
My abandoned phone pings three times in succession. “I should get that.”
Mallory’s grip tightens as an indescribable emotion flashes over her warm brown eyes. “Let’s do it together.”
“Why?” My heartrate picks up, that incessant noise in my ears again, even though the house is completely silent.
This time, Mallory’s sigh is resigned. “You’ll see.”
Chapter 4
Trevor
Don’t punch your teammate. Don’t punch your teammate. Don’t punch your teammate.
That mantra is the only thing keeping me from striding up the aisle of the team plane and socking Aaron in his smug jaw. My hand clutches the end of the armrest intermittently, my knuckles turning white from the effort to remain seated. The only thing keeping me from fully losing it is Kai in the window seat beside me. He asked how Kenzie was doing as soon as we took off and then offered to send Mallory over to check on her. Thank goodness for Wi-Fi calls on this flight. Otherwise, I would have lost my mind worrying about her.
Kenzie is relatively new to the area, moving to Virginia Beach after graduating from her master’s program because she’dalways wanted to live near the ocean. It’s brave, really, her moving to a brand-new city where she knew no one while also starting a business. She also moved away from her only family when she left their farm in upstate New York. I also left my family behind when I signed with the Waves, but Kenzie’s parents actually care about her.
She’ll often FaceTime with her parents while I’m around. They are exactly how Kenzie describes them—quirky organic farmers who try to keep their homestead as self-sustainable as possible. Since she went to a small college near her family’s farm while living at home, Kenzie said they didn’t have a cell phone until she moved here. Even now, they share one and only use it to video call her.
