Kennedy: I have red hair.
Me: I know. That’s why I’m giving you a warning. But at least you’re not trying to seduce the man I’m sleeping with by asking him to sign your jersey or give him what is most likely fantastic parenting advice which is conveniently accompanied by the phone number you slipped into his hand.
Kennedy: Uh-oh. Are the fans making you jealous?
Me: I’m not jealous. But yes.
Kennedy: Why? You and Ace are just sleeping together, right?
Me: Right.
Kennedy: I gotta finish cleaning up the training room, but sit with me on the plane? We can talk about all your confusing feelings on the flight to San Francisco.
Me: Can’t tonight. Max isn’t feeling well, but let’s get lunch or something tomorrow.
Kennedy: Deal, but wait. Did you save my number in your phone? I’m honored, Miss Unattached.
Me: Yeah. Yeah. You know what this means, right? We’re in a committed relationship now.
Kennedy: Omg. Am I your first?
Me: You popped my committed relationship cherry, Kennedy Kay.
Kennedy: Double honored.
I give Kai and his son one more long, lingering look. He’s still talking to that same woman, and before I can look away, he turns to catch me staring. Kai stands locked still, watching me while she continues to speak to him, and our eye contact is only broken when I eventually offer him an understanding smile and turn back to the bus.
I don’t want to understand it, but I do. Kai will eventually meet someone who will settle down with him, and we both know that someone won’t be me.
Chapter 29
Kai
“This one was a little too inside, but your speed was good.” Harrison, one of the pitching coaches, uses his cursor to move the stilled image around, showing me all angles of one of my pitches tonight.
I’m trying to focus on the computer, showcasing my post-game pitch breakdown, on the flight from Anaheim to San Francisco, but there’s a woman in the aisle opposite me, holding both my sleeping son and all my attention.
The baby Tylenol finally kicked in, thank God, relieving some of Max’s discomfort and allowing him a bit of rest. Miller is overly exhausted, but Max wouldn’t go down in his crib, always being a bit needy when he doesn’t feel well, so she’s trying her hardest to get an hour of sleep in an uncomfortable airplane seat while my son naps on her.
Having a sick toddler is no fun. Having a sick toddler while on a work trip? Absolute nightmare.
The past three days have been rough. Guilt gnaws at me over putting my sick son through my travel schedule. I should’ve left him home, but I felt just as guilty over the idea of leaving Miller to watch him full-time, especially when he’s not feeling well. That’s not her responsibility.
It’s moments like these that I feel selfish as hell for keeping my job, and if it weren’t for her helping me, I couldn’t do any of it.
Harrison moves onto the next pitch in the sequence so we can analyze it together, but when I catch Miller attempting to readjust out of the corner of my eye, using the fuselage to rest her head against, I can’t sit still any longer.
“Sorry, but can we do this in the morning?” I gesture to the seat across the aisle from me. “Max has been sick.”
Harrison peeks over. “He seems fine to me. Miller’s got him.”
“And she needs a break.” I try to keep my tone even when, in reality, I’m annoyed and short. I get that the organization has bent over backward to make my situation work, but these are the moments that matter to me. “Look, I’ll wake up an hour earlier tomorrow and meet you for coffee or something, but tonight I just need to take care of my family.”
He agrees but is clearly frustrated over it, and I know he’s just trying to do his job. I did lose us the game tonight, so I don’t have much room to be making demands, but he gives in, taking his iPad and heading back to the front of the airplane to sit with the rest of the coaching staff.
I’m fucking drained. Wrecked by the lack of sleep due to my son being sick while fighting the overwhelming desire to treat the nanny temporarily living in my house like she’s here to stay. But right now, I just really want to hold them both.
With the plane dark and quiet, most of the guys trying to get a bit of shut-eye before we land, I stand from my seat and sneak my way across the aisle.
Trying my best not to wake Max, I slide one arm under the bend in Miller’s knees, the other under her back before I gently lift her in my arms, turning to steal her seat. I get her settled onto my lap so I’ve got them both.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, not even opening her eyes as she buries her head into my shoulder, Max still melted onto her chest.
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Get some sleep.”
She breathes deeply through her nose, nuzzling herself further. “Why aren’t you working?”
“Because there are more important things than work, Mills.”
She doesn’t respond, and yeah, maybe I said that in a way that referred to her work as well.
She buries herself deeper, running a hand over Max’s back. “You holding me like this in front of other people feels pretty intimate.”
I quietly chuckle. “Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t give a shit about your rules, Miller, and right now is one of those times.”
“Why haven’t you tried to break the one where you sleep in my bed?”
Wait . . . what?
I play with the hair framing her face, pushing it out of the way so I can see her better. “Do you want me to break that rule?”
“I’m just wondering why you haven’t tried.”
“You’re confusing the hell out of me, Montgomery.”
“I’m confusing myself too.”
I readjust my hold on them. “I haven’t tried to sneak into your bed mostly for your sake, because I’m fairly certain if we start having sleepovers, you’re going to low-key fall in love with me and I know how adamant you are about this remaining a fling.”
A sleepy smile lifts on her lips. “I missed you.”
Her jade green eyes shoot open at that, and I can’t help but quietly laugh at her exhausted candor.
We’ve seen each other every day since she got to Chicago, so that’s not what she’s referring to. But taking care of a sick Max has been done in shifts, both of us too tired to do anything together once he’s finally asleep.
“Told you, Mills. You’re already falling.”
“I don’t fall in love.”
Those words instantly change the playful vibe. She wants a no-strings-attached kind of life, and the deeper we get into this, it’s clear the only life I’m complicating is my own.
She continues our hushed conversation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get Max settled down tonight.”
My eyes flicker to my sleeping son who is very much settled down in her arms.
“I think he hates me,” she continues.
“What are you talking about?”
“I tried to get him to sleep, I really did, but he didn’t want me.” Her voice cracks, the words whispered but watery, and her greens are glossed over in a way I’ve never seen. “I didn’t know what to do.”
A single but shocking tear rolls down her cheek, and I swiftly wipe it away with the pad of my thumb.
She’s clearly more exhausted than I assumed because Miller is not a crier.
“He kept screaming and crying and I really think he hates me, and you hated me when I first got here, and I just know you’ll both love that redhead.”
What the fuck is she on about?
More tears fall from her closed eyes, and I clean them up, reminding myself not to give her shit tomorrow once we’ve both gotten some sleep. Knowing Miller, she’s going to cringe at the reminder that she was so vulnerable.