The Rebound, page 8
“Saint?”
Speak of the devil, and his angel of a little sister will appear.
I nearly give myself whiplash looking over my shoulder to see Kinley approaching, wearing a casual T-shirt that stretches tightly across her belly, and a ripped pair of jeans. I try not to stare as she sits down on the bench next to me.
“Hey,” I say on a long exhale, so stupidly happy to see her again. What was I so worried about?
“Hey,” she says, her voice guarded. Her hair is loose around her face, and she’s wearing makeup. I don’t recall if I’ve seen her wear makeup before. Her lips look even more kissable than normal, painted a soft pink color.
Stop staring at her mouth, I remind myself.
“Thanks for meeting me. How are you? How’s the little man?” I tip my chin toward her belly, which appears to have gotten bigger in the few days since I’ve seen her, if that’s even possible.
“I’m okay.” She sighs on an exhale. “The little man is doing great. How are you?”
“I’m better now.”
Rather than her usual easy grin, she’s wearing a tight smile. She waits patiently for me to say something else, and it’s in that precise moment that I realize I have nothing prepared.
Fuck. Time to wing it.
I rub one hand over my hair. “I’ll just cut to the chase. I know your life is complicated right now. I mean, I can’t fully understand it because I haven’t walked in your shoes, but I get it. You’ve got a kid on the way and a brother to think about. I’m not trying to get in the way of your family or cause any drama. I just . . . I like hanging out with you. I want you in my life, Kin.”
That seems to do something to her. What exactly, I’m not sure.
Her eyes close briefly before settling on mine again, and she lets out an uneasy sigh. “I’d like that. It’s just that we can’t—”
“See each other anymore,” I say, repeating her words from before.
“Right. There just isn’t room for it all.”
I swallow my objections. So what if she doesn’t want to fuck me? The woman has a lot on her plate right now with the baby landing in T-minus one month. Not to mention her very complicated family dynamics, meaning her brother is an asshole.
Man enough to handle a little rejection, I almost believe the words coming out of my mouth next. Almost. “We could be friends, you know—just friends. You gotta have room for one more friend in your life, right?”
“Are you . . . sure?”
“For once, yeah. But I don’t want to pressure you into hanging out with me if you don’t want to. It’s your call. Take it or leave it.”
She frowns. “What would that even look like?”
“What do normal, nonsexual friendships look like?”
Her eyes light up even as she scoffs, a little bit of that familiar humor sparking behind them. “Nothing like what we’ve been doing.”
We share a look that has me thinking about what we’ve been doing in megawatt high definition. Fuck, these shorts are too damn thin to hide a chub.
Breathe, Saint. Do not think about her naked.
“Well, then we know what not to do.” My voice is filled with humor, and Kinley surprises me by grinning.
“I’ve never been friends—just friends—with a guy before. What would we even do?”
“Well, you’d respond to my texts, for starters.” I elbow her in the arm gently, and she chuckles.
“Okay, I can do that. But no more suggestive emojis. And you’d have to stop doing that looky-loo thing with your eyes when you look at me.”
“What eye thing?” I do the eye thing. It’s an elevator eyes slash eyebrow-waggle combo that somehow always gets me laid at the club.
She elbows me back, hard.
Grinning, I lift my palms in the air. “Fine, fine. No looky-loo thing.”
Her mouth lifts in a satisfied smile. “And no more late-night hangouts either,” she says, glancing at my lips, and when I wet them with my tongue, she blinks and looks away.
“No late nights. Got it. Now that we’ve got some ground rules, what would you like to do together?”
She thinks for a minute, tapping her index finger to her chin. “We could . . . go to the farmers’ market again, I guess.”
I consider this, but it honestly feels underwhelming. “The farmers’ market isn’t until Saturday. Come on, let’s christen our friendship by doing something today. Anything in the world you want to do, I’m game.”
I know I’m being pushy as hell, but I can’t help myself. I’m desperate to hang out with her. I’ve also been bored as fuck, trying to live on the straight and narrow path Coach has laid out for me. Sure, I could call up my boys and hit up a few clubs, but where would that get me?
“Anything?” She chews on her lip, staring far off across the street as she thinks. “Well, I’ve been dying to get a pedicure, but I don’t really want to go all by myself. And since I haven’t made any girlfriends here yet, you could go with me.”
She meets my eyes, serving me a challenge like she’s testing my commitment to the new parameters of our friendship.
I did say anything in the world, didn’t I? This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’m nothing if not a man who delivers on his promises.
“Pedicures sound perfect.”
Kinley blinks, clearly surprised. “Really?”
She’s obviously underestimated me. I rarely say no to new things. Bungee jumping? Sure. Threesome with the couple I just met? Why not. Try the kangaroo tartare at a fancy steakhouse? You only live once.
“Yeah, really.”
“Do you want to go now?” The excitement mounting in her voice is downright adorable.
“I’d better shower first. I don’t want my smelly gym shoe feet to assault the nice, uh . . .”
“Nail technician.”
“Right. Nail technician. Want to meet up in like thirty?”
Kinley nods, and her mouth lifts into a smile that I feel all the way inside my chest.
Maybe dialing back our physical relationship and keeping things platonic won’t be so bad after all. Especially if that smile is still a part of it.
• • •
“This is heaven.”
“Right?” Kinley presses her temple against the headrest so she can look at me, both of us blissed the fuck out. “This is my favorite part.”
Our feet are submerged in large glass bowls filled with some steaming herbal mixture. It’s doing wonders on the callouses on the back of my heels. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I’ve never done this before. I mean, I take care of myself, but my version of self-care usually involves fewer essential oils and more shots of tequila.
“I could get used to this,” I murmur, sinking back into my chair.
“Mmm . . .”
A comfortable silence stretches between us that gradually feels less and less natural as we listen to the soft chatter of the other customers around us. This would be a perfect opportunity to fall back into our natural rhythm of conversation, but now that flirting is off the table, I’m coming up as blank as newly resurfaced ice.
Fuck, what do friends talk about?
“What’s the rest of your week look like?” Kinley asks, expertly breaking the ice.
“Oh, you know. More of this. I’m gonna get a pedicure every day for the rest of my life.”
She laughs from somewhere deep in her belly. “I’ve created a monster.”
“You sure have. And I don’t really have any plans. This morning, I got an invitation to my teammate Alex’s bachelor party, but that isn’t for another three weeks.”
“Alex Braun?”
“The one and only.” I quirk an eyebrow at her. “You’ve been researching the team?”
A faint blush rises on her cheeks. “I’ve been perusing some headlines. Alex is on a lot of them.”
“I’m on more.” The words come out on a sigh, distinctly not a brag.
“Not recently,” she murmurs, her gaze flitting across my face.
Has she been researching me? I need a subject change before I start reading into shit that isn’t there.
“How about you?” I ask. “Any grand plans?”
“Like I said, I don’t really have any friends here. Besides you. And Walker.”
I frown deeply at his name. “Yeah, you need more friends.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t I introduce you to Aspen and Summer?”
“Who?”
“My teammates’ ladies. Alex’s fiancée and Tate’s wife, respectively.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. You three would get along like a house on fire.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Only for me. They love talking shit.”
Kinley gives me a smug smile. “Oh, then I’ll definitely get along with them.”
“Like I said.”
There’s a brief pause before Kinley releases a soft, happy sigh that makes goose bumps run up my arms. “Thank you, Saint.”
“You’re welcome.”
Suddenly, she gasps, a hand flying up to touch her belly. “Whoa, big kick. Wanna feel?”
My mouth goes instantly dry. Of course I want to touch Kinley. But feeling her baby kick is just a reminder that she’s got a whole life ahead of her that I don’t have much of a place in.
Still, I slowly reach over and let her press my palm against the firm sphere of her belly.
Kinley’s eyes sparkle with delight as she asks, “Do you feel that?”
Just that second, something flutters against my hand. A smile stretches across my face, mirroring hers.
“Yeah. I feel him. That’s wild. He just does this all day?”
“Pretty much. He’s gonna be a runner, I can already tell. I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with him.” She lowers her head to speak to her belly. “Mommy’s gotta work in order to keep you happy and healthy, you know. She can’t be chasing you all around New England.”
I chuckle at the image of Kinley booking it after an itty-bitty toddler running at breakneck speed.
When do babies start crawling? Walking? I know so little about what it’s going to be like for her once he’s born. What kind of schedule will she have to follow? How much time will she have for herself? I wonder if she even knows yet.
“Kin, answer me this.”
“Shoot.”
“When you think about the future, what’s the best-case scenario?”
“What do you mean?”
I scratch the side of my jaw with my free hand, fully aware of the fact that my other hand is still resting on Kinley’s belly, even though the baby settled at least a minute ago. “Are you still working? Are you a full-time mom? Do you want more kids?”
“Oh my God, is this twenty questions?”
“Yes, and I’ve got sixteen left, so you’d better start answering.”
“Okay, okay.” She laughs, then considers my question. “Hmm. In a perfect world, I’d still be able to work, probably part time. I mean, I care a lot about my career, and I don’t think I’d want to give that up. Maybe I’ll change my mind when I finally get to meet the little guy. I can’t really know yet.”
“Makes sense.”
“As for other kids . . . I know it’s crazy considering my situation, but yes, I want to have more. One more. A baby girl, hopefully. That way this guy can have a little sister to annoy him, and she can have a big brother to protect her.”
“Kind of like you and Reeves?”
“Exactly. We don’t have a perfect relationship, but in a lot of ways, Walker raised me when my mom was totally checked out, which was more often than not. I’m planning on doing a much better job than my mom ever did, but aren’t we all trying to do better than our parents?”
“Eh, I don’t think I could do much better than Cindy and Burt. I was their favorite.”
“Um, aren’t you an only child?”
I shrug, giving her a grin. “Yeah, so?”
Kinley rolls her eyes. “Classic only-child syndrome. So spoiled.”
“Guilty. You aren’t planning to spoil your kids?”
“Oh, absolutely not. I’m going to put this guy to work as soon as he figures out how to turn his own head.”
We both laugh at that, her hand covering mine and giving it a squeeze. Friends definitely touch each other like this. At least, that’s what I’m choosing to believe.
Eventually, she says, “I think he’s done training for the marathon now.”
It’s a gentle reminder that my hand has overstayed its welcome, even as she traces small circles over the veins snaking over my knuckles.
“Right. Sorry.” I pull back reluctantly.
“S’okay. That’s the longest anyone else has felt him, I think, other than maybe the doctor. I’ll bet he recognizes you when he gets here.”
“Here?” I ask with wide eyes, twirling a finger around the salon. “Are you about to give birth on a nail technician?”
Kinley giggles and shakes her head, completely unaware of the fact that I’m using humor to deflect exactly how much that statement means to me. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to have a relationship with this kiddo until she said that.
“When he’s older,” I say, being serious for once in my goddamn life, “you can always drop him off at the rink. You know, if you have to focus on work. He can watch us play. I can even get him his own gear when he’s big enough, and show him what’s what on the ice.”
Ducking her head, Kinley swallows hard and blinks rapidly.
Shit. Did I say something wrong?
But when she looks up at me again, she’s glassy-eyed and her smile is radiant. “I’d love that.”
A feeling of pride and loyalty and something else I can’t quite name flows through me. All I know is that I’m going to do everything in my power to make Kinley’s life better. Even if I’m “just” a friend, I want the absolute best for her and the kid. She’s an incredible girl.
And she sure as hell deserves someone better than me.
11
* * *
KINLEY
Making friends as an adult is strange, to say the least.
Aspen texts me back just minutes after I send her a message introducing myself, and enthusiastically steers the conversation toward making dinner plans. Summer is a little slow to respond, but she does so with an apology about being in a session with a new client.
Soon, we’ve got a plan to meet up for an early dinner later in the day. I may be out of practice when it comes to new friendships, but that was easy enough, and I’m feeling surprisingly optimistic.
Truth be told, I’m a little nervous about this whole get-together. I have to make a good impression on them. As long as I’m in Boston, these women will be a part of my life in some shape or form. They’re the significant others of my brother’s teammates. Although, it was Saint who was thoughtful enough to make the introductions when I lamented the fact that I don’t know any women in Boston.
A smile lifts my mouth when I think about the big, brawny Saint sitting next to me in the pedicure chair.
An hour later, I’m showered and dressed for my evening out, and I can’t help but feel a little self-conscious about meeting new people. I try to tell myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of, but being single and very pregnant is an out-of-the-ordinary situation for a lot of people. I hope these women aren’t the type to judge me.
I’ll admit that another source of stress is that they sort of have local celebrity status because of the men they’ve bagged. Well, that’s not entirely fair to them. Aspen has a high-up admin position for the team, and Summer is their licensed counselor, so both women are impressive in their own right.
Out of curiosity, I click through the tabloids surrounding the Alex/Aspen engagement and the Logan/Summer wedding, both searches yielding very limited information due to the private nature of both events. I do find ample pictures of Aspen and Summer, though, and holy crap are they both stunning.
To no one’s surprise, they’re even more beautiful in person.
Aspen smiles brightly at me from across the restaurant when I arrive, waving me over to the little booth where she and Summer are already seated, menus in hand. I suddenly feel like I’ve been invited to sit at the cool kids’ table for the first time.
“You’re so beautiful,” Aspen exclaims, putting a friendly hand on my shoulder as I sit down.
“Oh, thank you.” What do I say to that? What are words?
I feel more tongue-tied than I expected to. Maybe I’m just out of practice at this whole thing. I mean, sure, I keep in touch with my friends back home, but they’re a thousand miles away.
Luckily, these women are natural conversationalists. It takes me a minute to match their energy, but by the time we’ve ordered our food, I’m smiling and laughing along with them.
Summer tells stories of Logan’s brutish nature on the ice, and Aspen gossips about the single men on the team.
“Who have you met so far from the team?” Aspen asks through a mouthful of garlic bread. “Other than your brother, obviously.”
“Um, just Saint. I met him when I first moved here because we all live in the same building.”
“Walker and Saint live in the same building?” Summer shakes her head in disbelief. “Yikes.”
Aspen nods, her already big eyes widening. “Doesn’t that seem like a disaster in the making?”
“Why?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Well, they treat each other with a lot of hostility,” Summer says, her voice low. “Eden couldn’t pay me a million dollars to try and mediate that conflict. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Logan says there’s no inciting incident behind all the tension. They’re just ‘different people,’ whatever that means. They’ve never seen eye to eye on anything.”
Is it really that bad? I didn’t realize others were so aware of the strain between them. I guess neither of them are terribly subtle people.
I have more questions about Saint, but instead I find myself asking, “Who’s Eden?”
“My boss,” Aspen says with a proud smile. “She owns the team, even though she’s our age. A queen among us. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.”
