“He sent videos to my dad. They weren’t anything bad, but those were a warning that he would send more if I pushed him. J—My dadcannotsee that footage.”
I swallowed back a lump in my throat. Yes, I know that Kendra had photos and sex tapes floating around out there. But the threat of them being released, of her father—fuck—my father seeing them—it was unbearable. For whatever misguided reason, she had trusted Tucker when they dated, and he’d violated that trust when she tried to leave him, and he’s continued to violate it as he threatened her into silence.
I wanted to promise her that it would never come to that, but I couldn’t. The only thing I could promise was that, no matter the outcome, I would stand with her.
“If only he weren’t such a fucking dick to everyone.”
“He’s always been like that. When I first met him, he was still working to hide his real self. It was only after I left the relationship that he began to take off that mask. I kept only minimal tabs on him while he was in the Minor League, but he came into his own then.”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore tonight.” Unsaid—I had a strong feeling that Tucker would monopolize plenty of our time in the future.
Kendra turned in my arms, sitting herself on my lap and wrapping her legs around my back.
“Does this change the way you feel about me?” Her wide eyes searched for the slightest hint that something had changed between us.
“It does, Ken. But not in the way you’re fearing. I dropped you off at the marathon’s starting line this morning and picked up a completely different person. Yes—it’s still you. But fuck, you changed; you somehow got stronger even as that race threatened to tear you the fuck apart. So many people crumble under pressure; they fade. You fucking rose from the ashes, and you let me in. Your survival has always been about taking care of yourself and your sisters. You risked that and trusted me with this information. I can’tbegin to explain how much that means to me—but I’m so fucking afraid to fail you.”
Her wet hands brushed my hair back and tucked it behind my ear, a futile effort to try to take the attention away from my words. She dropped her forehead to mine; her chest heaved with the force of her next few breaths. “I’ve never wanted to rely on someone else.”
“You don’t, Ken. You never will. But that doesn’t mean we can’t help each other.”
“Can we just fuck now?”
“Is that what you need?”
“Yeah, make me forget for a while.”
So that’s what we did. We spent the next few hours buried in each other, enough so that we could forget the outside world existed. When she fell asleep in my arms, her last words were, “I love you.”
FIFTY-ONE
kendra
Jonathan Crosby Sr.had run the Minutemen for forty years. In all that time, the public scandals had been limited to one slugger whose drug test had come back positive for illegal substances. After listening to our story, he made it clear that the media’s silence on scandals stemmed from the organization keeping things quiet.
“This is about as bad as it could get. If you act against him, the union can claim retribution. Since there have never been charges filed, no indictments; there is nothing linking him to a crime. He’s also never been accused by anyone else.”
“I think we need to lie low,” I said. Jonathan Sr. nodded, eliciting a groan of frustration from Jonathan.
“There is no way I can have him around Kendra—fuck, there’s no way I can be around him, either.” This is what I was afraid of, that Tucker would find a way to push Jonathan over the edge and somehow get the upper hand.
“I tend to agree with Kendra in this case. Unless shewants to move forward with charges—” he looked over at me, giving me a chance to respond.
I shook my head, a resounding no. “He’s already threatened to send videos to my father—I can’t let him see that.”
“As a father, I agree. It could be devastating—and might actually get me to commit a crime if it were my own daughter.”
“I don’t doubt that from my dad, either,” I said.
“Besides lying low, what else can we do?”
“I can call my investigator. In the meantime, we watch him like a hawk and catch him on conduct every chance we get.”
After leaving the meeting with his grandfather, Jonathan surprised me with a massage booking to help with my post-race recovery, and I could have cried in thanks. How I thought I could work the day after running a marathon, I couldn’t explain.
“I can bring you out, or cook at home. Which do you prefer?”
Home.He’d been referring to the penthouse as home, and I liked it. I had no firm plans to move out of my apartment; the lease was still good through June, but I didn’t see myself ever spending another night there.
