Kennedy
Cocktail in hand, I watch Isaiah and Miller on the dance floor. Kai has been so busy since his speech, talking to teammates and staff, so Isaiah took it upon himself to take Miller for a twirl.
Their friendship is easy. I suppose because they’re similar in a way. Free- spirited, relatively easygoing, know how to be the life of the party if needed. It’s evident how much they care for each other, and I think their mutual appreciation is due to knowing how much the other cares about Kai. The man of the hour says his thank you to a season ticket holder before turning to the dance floor, finding his brother and fiancée together. He
smiles at that, then turns his attention to me.
“You look great, Ken,” he says once he crosses the dance floor, clinking his glass bottle with my drink.
“Retirement, huh?”
“It’s time. I’m thirty-four next year. I don’t want to be one of those guys who tries to play long past their arm will allow them. I want to be able to pick up my kids, and honestly, whenever I’m at the field, I’m thinking about being at home these days. It feels right.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me. I think you’re lucky to have people you care about so much that you want to be with them. I think that’s every woman’s hope, to be thought of the way you think of Miller. It’s mine, at least.”
I feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t really have to hope for that, Kennedy.”
I let the insinuation hang in the air, but don’t agree. Verbally or internally. “What did you mean?” I ask, turning his way. “In your speech when you were talking to Isaiah. What did you mean when you said he was right?
That it felt good ending it this way.”
Kai softly chuckles to himself. “Years ago, we used to talk about what retirement would look like for us one day. I was fucking terrified of the idea because this is all I’d ever known. All I’d ever wanted and worked for. But Isaiah said he looked forward to it. ‘Imagine that when this all ends,’ he would say, ‘that you’ve met your person, they’re at home waiting for you to be done, and now you get to have this entire life with them. Think of how good that’s going to feel.’ ” Kai smiles to himself, watching Miller on the dance floor. “He was right. It feels really fucking good.”
My eyes narrow in confusion, pointing towards said dance floor. “You didn’t always know you wanted that life?”
“Absolutely not. That was the last thing on my mind, back in those days. After getting Isaiah into the league all I wanted to do was have fun and not worry about any kind of responsibilities. I was trying to make up for the years I felt like I had missed out on being a normal kid. I didn’t see a future beyond that, but Isaiah did. That’s all he’s ever wanted.”
My head jerks back. “What exactly did he want?”
“A family. To settle down with one person. You know, all the domesticated shit I’m about to do.”
“Isaiah Rhodes?” I laugh in disbelief. “He once wanted that?”
“Still does.” He says the words as if they’re so obvious, so apparent to everyone around him.
But Isaiah is a playboy. Sure, I’ve seen a more serious and vulnerable side to him, but that doesn’t negate the fact that this man has never slowed down for one single woman. Yes, he’s been patient and understanding with me, but what?
It feels as if my entire belief system is in question at the idea that Isaiah Rhodes really, truly wants to settle down.
Kai turns to me. “You might not be aware of this, but Isaiah used to be a relationship type of guy. He always had serious girlfriends. Committed. Faithful. I didn’t once ever catch him looking elsewhere when he was in a relationship. It’s the same attributes that make him such a good friend, but yeah, the guy loved the stability of being in a relationship. Well, until he didn’t.”
My attention drifts from Kai to his brother on the dance floor. Isaiah’s head is thrown back in laughter thanks to whatever Miller said, birthmark next to his eye disappearing with his smile.
I have looked at Isaiah plenty of times before, but if what Kai is saying is true, I have never truly seen him. Sure, Kai could lie for his brother if he wanted to, but I know in my gut he’s not. Which only has me questioning . . .
“Why did he stop? Being a relationship type of guy, I mean.”
Kai’s head falls back with a groan, sneaking a quick glance at his brother. “He’d kill me if I told you.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Damn, Ken. For being in the medical field, you’re not at all concerned about my well-being.”
“Let me be selfish here, Ace.”
Kai exhales a resigned sign. “Dean, your stepbrother, is what happened.
Well, kind of. It’s not entirely his fault, but it partially is.” “What exactly happened? Because Isaiah won’t tell me.”
“That’s nice of him.” His tone is all sarcasm. “Doesn’t want you to know how much your stepbrother sucks, but I’ll be happy to fill you in. Dean went to a rival high school, but he had always had it out for Isaiah. I was older, so he didn’t try anything directly with me, but he would constantly go after my brother. It started when we were kids, the shit he would say . . .” Kai shakes his head. “Our first game back after our mom died, I remember him mentioning something shitty about her while Isaiah was running the bases. A huge fight broke out. It never stopped from there. Any time our teams met, there’d be a fight. Then when Isaiah got a little older and started dating girls, it was a new way for Dean to fuck with him. Isaiah was this sweet, loyal kid, but I couldn’t name one single girl that my brother dated who didn’t fuck around behind his back with your stepbrother. Which yes, those girls are also at fault for doing that, but fuck Dean too because he went after them intentionally. After being cheated on who knows how many times, Isaiah hasn’t attempted a relationship since.”
“That was well over ten years ago,” is the only thing I can manage to say, because my heart hurts at the mere idea of a kind, naïve Isaiah finding out his girlfriends were secretly seeing the person he disliked most.
“You’ve got to understand, Ken, he was thirteen when our mom died. Then immediately after that, at the age he’s learning about relationships, every girl he ever had feelings for left him too. He’s a little fucked up because of it, and I don’t blame him. All the guy ever wanted was for
someone to stay and love him back, but he never got that. He’s allowed to be jaded, and I’m allowed to hate Dean because of it.”
I think I’m allowed to hate Dean because of it too. I don’t care that he was just a teenager at the time, he and I will be having some words for how he’s treated my now husband.
“You’re the first person he’s been with in over a decade, and—” “But we’re not together. Not like that, at least.”
Kai nods to his mother’s ring on my finger. “You sure he knows that?” “Of course he does.” The words come out with a slight stutter because
I’m not sure even I believe them.
Yes, we’re faking it. Playing a game. But the way he looks at me, the way he takes care of me . . . Those things feel very fucking real.
Kai continues. “It’s nice to see him like this again, with you, and the last thing I want is for him to feel so burned after it all ends that he goes back to being the guy he was for the last ten years. I’m not saying you have to want him back, but protect him for me, will you?”
But what if I do? Want him back. What if he could want more than just one night, the way I’ve always believed? What if this isn’t a one and done for him?
My eyes track him on the dance floor, moving slowly with Miller, hand resting on her mid back, the other holding hers out to the side. He catches me watching him from across the way and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his lips. It’s quickly becoming my favorite thing to see, but in the same breath, I find him just as handsome when he’s not smiling. When he’s vulnerable and real.
“Kai, do you think he’s going to be okay next year? Without you.”
He exhales a deep breath. “I don’t know. I want him to be, but it’ll be a big change. Even when we weren’t on the same team, we still had the same life. Still had the same job. He’s losing both me and you next season, and even though you think you’re temporary in his life, you’re not.”
He’s not temporary in my life either. At the very least, Isaiah Rhodes is quickly becoming my closest friend. And for maybe the first time, I can admit that when I move, I will miss him too.
“Kai Rhodes,” someone interrupts us, hand slapping the back of his shoulder. “Huge fan. We’ve been season ticket holders since—”
I don’t listen to the rest of the fan’s sentence, instead slipping away to let them drool over our Ace pitcher.
I wander, saying hi to a few coworkers and team players. I avoid Dr. Fredrick like the plague as he wears the cheesiest fucking smile on his face while kissing as much ass as possible, mostly notably to Arthur Remington. But if I were him, I’d turn my focus to Reese. She’s going to be his boss next year, after all.
But then again, the idea of Dr. Fredrick kissing ass to any woman, even one who is his direct superior, seems like an impossible task.
With an empty glass, I find my way to the bar, climbing onto a stool and taking a seat. “Vodka soda, please.”
I pass the bartender a tip before slipping my hands between my crossed thighs and waiting for my cocktail.
“Drinks are on me.” Someone steps up to the bar beside me, not sitting on the stool, but instead standing between the next one over and mine.
A man. Thirties. Objectively attractive. “It’s an open bar,” I remind him.
A slow smile spreads on his mouth. “Well, then it looks like I’ll have to take you out after this and buy you a real one.”
I huff a laugh. “That was smooth.”
“Vincent.” He holds his hand out and I shake it in greeting. “Kennedy.”
“Are you a baseball fan, Kennedy?” “Something like that.”
He scoots a little closer to me. Too close, if I’m being honest, but this is what I’m working on, being okay with physical contact. If I were out in the real world getting hit on at a real bar, it’d be crowded. They’d stand close. This is fine.
I’m fine.
“So what do you do for work, Miss Kennedy?”
Mrs, my brain screams, but I shut it off. “I’m a . . . doctor.”
Vincent’s eyes go wide. “Impressive. What kind?” “Sports medicine.”
“Athletes, huh? Bet they love you. I’ve been an athlete my whole life, you know. Still play occasionally.”
“Oh yeah? Who do you play for?” “I play pickup at the gym.”
I burst a laugh, but quickly cover it with my hand. “Sorry.”
“It gets heated out there. It’s intense. Some of those guys played in college and really had a chance at going pro if they didn’t injure themselves. That’s what happened to me. I blew out my knee freshman year.” He shakes his head in disbelief as if his high school highlight reel was playing on repeat in his mind. “So, what kind of athletes do you work with?”
“The professional kind. I work here, for the Warriors.”
“Oh shit. Well, I sound like a fucking idiot, trying to impress you when you’re over here working with professional athletes.”
I’m married to one too. It’s the first thing that crosses my mind, but I don’t say it. Because soon enough, I won’t be.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to try to impress me.” His sly smile grows as he steps even closer.
My skin instantly feels hot, not in a good way, but in an uncomfortable way. His hip grazes my thigh. He leaves it resting there, full, intentional contact, and I hate it. I try to turn away, but there’s a couple on my other side so there’s no room.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve been practicing. I should be getting better at physical contact and casual touching. This is innocent, but I can’t breathe because of how much I despise this simple graze of my thigh. I don’t want him touching me.
And that scares the hell out of me because will I ever want anyone other than Isaiah to touch me? Will he always be the only man I’m comfortable with? And if so, what the hell are we doing with these lessons then? What’s the point of it all if it’s only him?
Holy fuck. Is it only him? Has it always been him?
“I’ll be at the game on Monday,” he says, dropping his palm to my thigh.
I flinch and don’t even try to hide my body’s visceral reaction to his touch.
He doesn’t seem to notice or care, leaving his hand to rest there when he says, “My dad is a season ticket holder. So, after the game, maybe I can take you out for that drink?”
“I’m sorry, but can you please take your hand off me?”
He huffs an uncomfortable laugh. “What?”
I turn my body away from him, into the couple of inches of space I have. “Your hand. Can you please take it off me?”
“Okay . . .” The word is drawn out as if my question made me an absolute freak. Maybe I am.
He lifts his hands, both of them, holding them up in surrender as if what I said to him was threatening, and not a simple request.
I wish Isaiah were here.
Vincent attempts to save the moment. “So, what do you do for fun?”
“I uh . . . I work a lot. Or study. I’m kind of always trying to keep up on the newest research in my field, and I enjoy my alone time. I’ve gotten pretty good at entertaining myself over the years.”
The face he makes . . . Oh God.
“So you’ve clearly been single a while, huh?”
How am I so bad at this?
“What do you do in your free time?” I ask.
“I spend a lot of my time at the gym. Play golf. I work for my dad, so I kind of make my own schedule.”
He’s literally every boy I ever grew up with. I miss Isaiah.
His conversation. The way he looks at me. How he knows my cues, when to speed up. When to slow down.
He’s simply across the field and I miss him.
“Do you have a last name, Kennedy?” Vincent asks as he once again steps into my space and places his hand on my shoulder, completely disregarding that I asked him not to.
I flinch, but it’s only there for less than a second before his hand is forcibly removed.
Isaiah shoves him back a step.
“Rhodes,” he says. “Her last name is Rhodes. Now get your fucking hands off my wife.”
“Whoa, man,” Vincent says with an awkward laugh. “It’s cool. I’m a big fan of yours.”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are.” Isaiah puts his body between us. “She asked you not to touch her.”
“She didn’t tell me she was married.”
“She doesn’t have to tell you shit. You clearly don’t listen anyway.” Isaiah grabs my left hand that’s sandwiched between my legs and places it on the bar top. “But there’s your fucking evidence.”
“Everything okay, here?” a security guard steps up and asks. “No. He needs to go.”
“I didn’t even do anything.” “Get him out of here.”
“Isaiah,” I say, attempting to reason with him.
“Please,” Isaiah says only to the security guard, eyes begging. “Get him out of here before I do something stupid.”
“You heard the man.” The security guard holds his arm out to gesture the way to the exit.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Vincent argues.
“Well, it’s his brother’s award ceremony and I work for them, so you’re out of here.”
The security guard escorts Vincent to the exit.
There’s an awkward tension hanging in the air, other people at the bar looking at us.
And Isaiah is pissed. “Isaiah, that—”
“I’m not having this conversation right now.”
His voice is hushed for only us to hear before he rebuttons his suit jacket as if nothing happened and uses those long legs of his to put as much distance between us as possible. He’s across the field and down the dugout in no time at all.
I’m stuck in a state of disbelief before I put it in gear and chase after him. “Isaiah!” I call out once I’m past the dugout to where it’s only us.
He doesn’t stop, continuing into the hallway that leads into the clubhouse.
“What’s wrong with you? What the hell are you so pissed off about?”
Those words finally stop him, turning him back to face me, anger and hurt written all over his face.
“What’s wrong with me?” He exhales out a dry laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that my brother just announced his retirement and I’m a fucking mess right now, Kennedy. And yeah, I get it. You’re leaving too, but if you want to do that shit while we’re still married—” He motions towards the
field and bar where we just came from. “You can go ahead and give me divorce papers right now.”
That halts me where I am, feet glued to the floor. “What?”
“You heard me.” He loosens the tie around his neck. “I get what this is to you. I know you’re going to see other people after me, but it’s sure as shit not going to happen while you’re still married to me.”
“I didn’t do anything!” My voice betrays me, frustration compounding because the entire time another man was hitting on me, I was thinking about him. Wanted it to be him.
That realization is too uncomfortable to admit, so I don’t. I put it back on him.
“I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want him touching me. But you can’t stand there and say you haven’t touched another girl since we were in Vegas.”
His head visibly jerks back. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” “And we had no agreement in place that said you couldn’t. I’m just
saying, you can’t tell me not to innocently talk to someone when you’re—” “When I’m what, Kennedy?” His voice is loud and angry. “When I’m
constantly thinking about you? When I’m trying my best just to get you to notice me? Or when I’m too busy not touching other women. Because I haven’t laid a finger on anyone other than you. Not once. And not just since we got married. I haven’t even looked at another woman since the day I found out you ended your engagement. I would’ve waited for you since the day I met you had I known you weren’t in love with your fiancé. For years, I thought you were happy with someone else. But I only found out ten months ago, Ken. For the last ten months, I thought I might have a real shot, so I’ve tried my fucking best. I’ve waited for you to see me, and I’d wait the rest of my life if I thought I ever had a real chance with you, but I don’t. Do I? Never have.”
I’m stunned silent, right there in the hallway with the field behind me and him in front.
“God.” His exhale is full of agony. “Why can’t you see it? Why can’t you see me?”
I . . . I don’t know what to say, what to do. Everything I thought I knew about this man has been flipped entirely on its head tonight. Though I guess it’s been changing for weeks now.
I remember the day Isaiah found out about my failed engagement. I hadn’t been wearing that gaudy ring for months at that point, but he didn’t realize until one Sunday afternoon in the training room.
He startled me while I was working on his body, grabbing my left hand to inspect the bare finger. He quickly asked if I was okay, and once I told him I was, this guy’s face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.
I didn’t know then what I know now, that he completely changed his ways—or reverted to the old Isaiah, according to what his brother told me tonight.
Because of me. Because he wants me.
Because he wants me to want him.
I’ve never been so comfortable. Never been so drawn to someone the way I am to him. I’ve never wanted to touch someone the way I touch him. Never wanted someone to touch me the way he so naturally does. Never wanted to be around someone the way I feel pulled into his orbit.
What the fuck am I doing?
It’s as if all this time together, I’ve been practicing to be good enough for someone to want me, and he’s been here all along, waiting.
My eyes may have been closed for a long time, but they’re not anymore. I see him.
Lifting his bowed head, he exhales a hard-earned breath. “I need a minute. Don’t follow me,” he says before turning down a side corridor, but I know exactly where he’s going.
