In my head, I was back there, remembering that day as if it had just happened, every detail crystal clear in my mind. “I couldn’t believe such a beautiful place was so close to our house, the ugliest place I could have imagined at the time. I don’t even know how long I stayed here that first day. Hours maybe? After that, I came here all the time. And then started bringing you here. It just felt right somehow, to have you here. I can’t really explain it, but finding it somehow felt like fate.” It probably sounded stupid, but I was trying out this whole being open and honest thing, so she was most likely going to hear a lot of ridiculous things.
She smiled brightly as we stepped out of the wooded area and into the cleared one where wildflowers covered the lush green landscape, looking exactly as it had ten years before. It was like something out of a fantasy.
It didn’t escape my attention that the last time we were here together was when I broke up with her. I was sure she hadn’t forgotten that either, which was why I’d brought her here, to erase that memory and replace it with a new, better one.
We walked over to our tree, spread the blanket out underneath it and laid down beside each other. I wasn’t sure if she understood my reasons for this trip, so I decided to just jump in. To my amazement, I wasn’t dreading it as much as I’d expected I would.
“Our father hit us.” I just stared up at the tree branches, appreciating the feel of the sun’s rays on my skin. I wasn’t sure I could look at her as I went through this, but I knew she was listening to every word. “He drank all the time, was hardly ever sober, and took his temper out on us. I can’t remember a time that he didn’t hit my mother, but I remember vividly the first time he hit one of us. Dawson was the first, of course, being the oldest. He tried defending Mom so Sal turned on him. Once he realized nobody was stopping him from doing that, he started in on Mason and I, too.
“They got it worse than me because they protected me from most of it. Or tried to. He’d hit us if we didn’t make our beds. He’d hit us if we didn’t clean up after ourselves. Hell, he’d hit us if we even looked at him wrong. After so many years of this, Mom started taking pills, just to deal with it. Anytime she tried to stop him from beating up on one of us, he’d give it to her even worse. So, she just gave up one day. I guess I can’t really blame her for that. I asked myself for so long why she never just left him, said enough was enough. But I think it’s because she’s always been afraid of him. And because she still loves him on some small, fucked up level.
“I used to hide in the closet in our room, covering my ears and wishing I could escape from it all. When I met Clay, he offered me that very thing. After we became friends, I never wanted to go home. I used to hope that your parents would adopt me and my brothers somehow, take us away from all that pain and misery.”
The next part was particularly hard to say but I managed to work around the knot in my throat. “I worried every day that I would come home from school and find my mom dead on the floor, surrounded by a pool of her own blood. I just knew that he would hit her so hard, just lose control and end up beating her to death. Then, I worried about him doing that to my brothers.”
I turned my head to look over at Kinley to see her eyes already on me. “I spent my entire childhood scared all the time. So when I started to grow up, I vowed that I would never let someone like him scare me again. I realized that if I let my emotions get the better of me, they would eventually lead to fear, so I just shut myself down from them. I didn’t mean for it to affect me to the point that it screwed things up with us. It all just happened before I’d even realized that I’d allowed it to.”
She reached over and caressed my cheek with her hand, the touch soothing my nerves. “I understand. You did what you had to do. The only way you knew how to deal with something you couldn’t understand yourself. But you don’t have to do that anymore, Parker. I’m here now, I will always be here. You don’t have to keep living inside your head by yourself.”
I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to touch her, had to hold her.
I rolled over and took her into my arms, sealing my mouth against hers, demanding entrance with my tongue. Our mouths took possession of each other, hot and hungry, easily remembering the dance our bodies had done so often with each other.
I rose up and slid her underneath my body, pushing her legs open with my knees and settling my lower half between them. When my hardness connected with her soft middle, we both groaned loudly, needing that friction in the most carnal way. My desire to be inside her was quickly turning primal. I ripped my mouth away from hers, only long enough to yank her shirt over her head before I dove back into the warm, wet heat of her mouth.
Her hands fumbled with raising my shirt over my head so I helped her by pulling on the top and ripping it off my body. Our bodies were calling out to each other in a way that was almost animalistic. We were going to take what we both needed from each other, out here in the open, in nature, and nothing had ever felt so good.
Her hands were on my ass, pulling me closer into her. I made quick work of both of our pants and soon we were both gloriously naked under our favorite tree, in our special meadow.
A warm sensation fell over me in that moment as I looked down at the woman I loved in her most natural form. An overwhelming feeling that this, right here, was how it was always meant to be overrode all of my other thoughts and emotions.
I think she felt it, too, because as soon as I entered her, she looked up at me with eyes glistening and said, “I love you.”
I gave her another deep, sensual kiss as I began to move inside her. “I love you, too. This is how I want you forever, Kin. Just like this.”
Her hips moved with mine as we rocked to the beat of our own pounding hearts and the song of the birds soaring above us. Our hands interlocked above her head, her body allowing mine to take control and lead her to where pleasure mingled with bliss, where dreams became reality.
And when we both reached our peaks and drifted into the realm of peaceful contentedness that could only come from sharing that kind of loving act together, I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect reality than the one I’d finally found.
Chapter Forty-One
Kinley
“You know the game hasn’t even started yet, right?” came a voice to my left.
I was able to pry my eyes away from the field long enough to glance over at Gwen and see her watching me with raised eyebrows. She lowered her gaze to our shared armrest where my hand was clasping hers in a death grip, turning it white. I quickly let go, muttering an apology. Of course, she just laughed at me.
“I’m just so nervous,” I confessed, biting my lower lip. By the end of the game, I probably wouldn’t have a lip left. “He wants this so bad. They have to win.”
She took pity on me and patted my hand, offering that sweet spirit she had, which was actually helping to calm my nerves a little. “But no matter what happens, he’ll be fine because he has you now. That man is so smitten with you, it really is adorable.” She looked over at me, her gorgeous ivory skin glistening in the early evening sun. “You’re good for him.”
I smiled to myself, remembering the many times Parker had put that same smile on my face or made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt. Or just made me feel safe and warm in his arms. “He’s good for me, too.”
“And in case you haven’t already figured it out,” she added, looking down at the back of Clay’s head, who was sitting in the row in front of us with Parker’s brothers. “He loves his best friend and sister dating. I’m not sure if that’s because he doesn’t have to worry about Parker hurting you or you hurting Parker. But regardless, he’s your biggest fan.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised with how well-received mine and Parker’s relationship had been with my family. After Parker’s conversation with Clay, my brother had come back with a goofy grin on his face and had given me the biggest hug he’d ever bestowed upon me. I had to look over his shoulder to ensure that Parker was still alive before I
returned the hug. Before he’d pulled away, he whispered in my ear, “I’m happy for you guys.”
And a stupid tear or two had leaked out when he’d said that, I had to admit.
My mom and Gwen, of course, had been on-board from the beginning, Gwen having confessed to me that she always thought we’d make a good couple. And when Parker had approached Dad—something he insisted on doing alone, man-to-man—it only took my father about five seconds to warm up to the idea. He’d always treated Parker like a son, but if it was possible, he had formed an even stronger bond with my boyfriend ever since their conversation.
And I couldn’t have been more in love with his brothers, or with Mickie. They’d immediately accepted me, as if that were the only option and that’s how it was always meant to be. I appreciated how they’d never questioned me or questioned Parker’s judgment to date me; they just started treating me like a little sister without thought.
Mason and I instantly clicked because we both had a love of art, and Dawson was just a huge teddy bear deep down, despite his tough cop exterior. His face when he looked at his two children said it all. And I’d found another sister in Mickie. The woman had spunk and sass and a fun-loving attitude, all of which I was quickly discovering you had to maintain with the Cruz men. I knew she could be a reliable source of support if I ever needed advice with how to handle Parker’s past and their general family dynamic.
As if I’d conjured her attention with my thoughts, her dark, curly head whipped around from her seat in front of us and looked up at my dad, a desperate plea in her eyes.
“Sam, would you mind if I switched places with you?” She looked down the row at the Cruz men and Clay, along with her two precious four-year-olds. “There’s too much…guy down here.”
My dad looked down our row at the women of his family, almost like a deer in headlights. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said.
Mickie blew out a relieved breath and climbed over the seat to take Dad’s place beside my mom. “I want to sit with the giwls!” Gabby screeched when she noticed her mom was no longer beside her.
“Uh-oh, we can’t leave one behind,” my dad said.
Dawson was so enthralled in whatever conversation he, Mason, and Clay were having that he just passed Gabby off to Dad without a word, who then plopped her down on Mickie’s lap. The girl had on her little Cruz jersey and was holding a clear bag full of what looked like Goldfish. Seeing her sitting there on her mother’s lap, it was like looking at a younger version of the exact same person.
I wondered if mine and Parker’s kids would look more like him or me or if they would have a mix of both of our features.
Whoa. Little too early for that.
But I definitely wanted some of my own little Cruzes running around, wearing their daddy’s jersey. Someday, in the near future possibly.
That made me think of Ava, Moberly’s wife, and I looked over at the section next to us to see her blonde head shining in the sea of Boston red. I’d texted her earlier to see where she was sitting and we talked a little before the game started. She was sitting with her in-laws and her daughter, her own parents having stayed home with their eleven-month-old son. Apparently, they weren’t huge baseball fans so they hadn’t minded missing the game.
She was holding her daughter on her lap and waved at me, smiling excitedly, when she caught my look. She was another person who was becoming a fast friend.
The announcer’s voice came over the PA system, the sound booming through the stadium, causing an excited murmur to travel through the crowd. The Red Sox were taking the field, and the first San Francisco Giants batter could be seen taking his practice swings in the on-deck circle.
Tonight was Game 7 of the World Series.
The series was tied three to three.
We were back in Boston.
And I was a nervous wreck.
Had been at every game of the series, but this one was by far the worst. Parker could have his win by the end of tonight. He could have his title, his trophy. The championship he’d been dreaming of since he was a little kid.
Things had been nothing but bliss for us these past few weeks, and it was showing in his play. Not that he’d slacked off at any point before that, but he was just on fire every game. The zone of concentration he would go into as he left me before every game was impenetrable. He didn’t talk a lot about the team or the games with me at home. I was suspecting that he didn’t want to jinx the flow they had going by discussing it—baseball superstition—but his air of confidence hadn’t wavered once.
The Red Sox settled into their positions, the first Giant stepped up to the plate, and the game started.
The top of the first inning went by quickly, both the Red Sox pitching and defense definitely on point. No hits were allowed and Boston went back to their dugout without any major incidents. When our first batter stepped up to the plate, you could feel the energy in the stadium intensify, the excitement in the stands electrify with anticipation.
Parker hit a double on his first at-bat, moving the runner in front of him over to third. But the team couldn’t capitalize on the hits and they ended up stranding both runners. The second inning was similar to the first, resulting in no runs for either team.
The real action started in the third when Pollock hit a lead-off single for the Red Sox. The pitcher was up next and hit a sacrifice bunt with perfect execution, moving Pollock over to second base. With one out, my heart pounding, and my hand once again strangling Gwen’s, I watched as Maclin hit one over the first baseman’s head, landing in shallow right field.
What should have been an easy scoop up and throw to first base turned into a scramble for the ball when the right fielder committed an error, allowing Pollock to run and slide all the way into home plate, making it safely in.
The crowd went nuts.
Everyone was on their feet, our whole family was high fiving and hugging. For anyone who didn’t understand baseball, you might think we had just won the game. But with this sport and especially in a critical game like this, scoring a run with only one out and another runner still on base was cause for celebration. Even in the third inning.
Granted, with baseball, two quick grounders or pop-outs could end the celebration in the blink of an eye.
The crowd remained on their feet when the next Red Sox batter stepped up to the plate. One thing I loved about baseball was the suspense, the build-up of tension, especially after such an exciting play. My pulse was jumping with every throw from the pitcher, every nick of the bat against the ball, sending it foul.
Then, something anti-climactic would happen such as our batter grounding the ball to shortstop, hitting right into an easy play for the Giants and giving us our second out of the inning. Luckily, they barely missed getting the double play, our player legging out the throw to first. At least we still had one runner.
The excitement died for only a minute until Moberly stepped up to the plate, sending another round of re-invigorated cheers through the stands, Red Sox fans encouraging their catcher. He took a couple of balls and then a couple of strikes and everyone was on the edge of their seats. Or the tip of their toes, so to speak, since there wasn’t a single Boston fan sitting down.
It was weirdly serene on the next pitch because it was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop in that stadium. Thick silence filled the air before the crack of the bat against the ball broke it and every head in the crowd turned, slowly following the ball as it sailed high in the sky, heading for the space between left and center field.
Right over the wall.
The stadium erupted.
Hands were in the air, white towels were being swung over heads, and camera flashes were spreading like wildfire, making it look like a swarm of giant lightening bugs had descended on the stadium.
Nobody really noticed or cared much that the next batter flied out, it happened so quickly. Everyone was still reeling over Moberly’s home run, putting the Red Sox up three to nothing. I peered over the
heads of the crowds to spot Ava still smiling and yelling while bouncing her laughing daughter on her hip. We once again caught each other’s eyes and shot companionable smiles at the other.
I knew her husband didn’t have too many years left in the game, if any after this. So, I understood how much it meant to both of them that he had a moment like this in the World Series and that his family was here to see it.
“I need a beer,” I announced as I took my seat, still trying to lower my heart rate.
“Here,” Dawson said as he reached back and handed his full beer to me.
“I don’t want to take yours. I can get one.”
He smirked. “This is my second. I can get another one. Besides, you probably need it more than I do.”
I gratefully accepted it and took several sips, closing my eyes in pleasure as the cool liquid ran down my scratchy throat. It was already raw from yelling so much.
Unfortunately, the Giants answered our runs in the top of the fourth, hitting one after another and running the bases like they couldn’t be stopped. Single, double, double, walk, another single. The Red Sox fans grew increasingly frustrated with the situation, and when the inning finally ended, the Giants had managed to tie the score at three runs each.
Looks like we’re starting over again.
Both teams went scoreless in the fifth, though only barely. The Giants had hit a few more and gotten too close to scoring again for any Boston fan’s comfort. Needless to say, we had a new pitcher in when the Giants came up to bat in the sixth. The Red Sox management was taking no chances with a game like this. If the other team was hitting off our pitcher, and especially if he had given away one too many walks, he was out and someone with a fresh arm replaced him. Thankfully, our pitcher managed to hold them off and we went into the bottom of the sixth inning still tied.
It was a big inning for Parker.
He was the first batter, having hit a single and then walking his two previous at-bats. On the third pitch, his bat connected with the ball, sending it right to the third baseman with incredible speed. At first, it looked like an easy out, but the ball came out of the third baseman’s hand awkwardly and the throw came up short, forcing the first baseman to extend as far as he could. Parker was pushing hard and fast down to first, pumping his arms to beat the throw, and extended his leg to touch the bag…just before the umpire called “Safe!”
Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1) Page 38
