Page 22 of Embers in the Outfield

I wasn’t anything more than another naked body he looked at. I left the hotel that day feeling like I had the upper hand in some weird way. I thought we’d have a little fun. I didn’t expect any strange tension after our encounter at breakfast felt like our usual banter.

Plus, I had no idea what he thought after I sent that photo, even if he choked on his coffee. However, his lack of response was all the answer I needed. I waited around a bit before checking out. When I didn’t get anything back in our text thread, I walked myself out of that hotel with my head held high and no regrets. I had fun that night. I left it at that.

But hearing Sammie talk about River going on a date, no care in the world that I was sitting right here, really pisses me off. And I don’t know if I am pissed at myself for caring so much or if I am just pissed because it’s River, and everything he does makes me want to scream.

The words tumbling out of Ashton’s and Samara’s mouths are falling on deaf ears, so I scramble an excuse of needing to leave, always blaming work, and get myself out of their house.

The moment I step out of their front door, I feel like I can breathe again. This reaction seems a bit exaggerated, but I can’t ignore the suffocation I felt as the minutes ticked, and I had to sit there, pretending nothing had shifted between River and me. I begin to take my steps quickly away from their apartment, grab my phone, and order myself a ride.

Since my parents died in a car accident, I haven’t been able to build the nerve to get my driver’s license. That might sound unbelievable as a busy executive with a position of power in a male-dominated industry. Going from New York to now a resident in Boston, not having a car isn’t uncommon, so I haven’t found a need to get my own car and have continued to use a service instead of learning. Boston is such a busy city, that it all seems to work seamlessly anyway.

I’m too distracted by the app to realize someone is calling my name. I only hear his voice the moment he reaches out to grab my arm.

“Fuck, Skipper. You could at least acknowledge me as I’m yelling for you,” River says, acting as if this little run was that strenuous on him. He’s a fucking firefighter, for god’s sake.

“I didn’t realize you needed to speak to me. I’ve been around. You could have texted me.” Fucking hell. I’m letting him know how hurt I am, and I don’t want to give him that power. The sooner I get myself back to our regular irritation between the two of us, the sooner I can go back to not caring about whatever it is we could be.

“Can you stop the prissy act, Kennedy? It’s getting old.” The audacity of this dick.

“Fuck you, River,” I seethe, my molars grinding as I look up at him with fire in my eyes. “I don’t remember agreeing we were on good terms. Why don’t you go find yourself another date, and you can get her to comfort that bruised ego of yours.”

The moment I say it, I close my eyes and inwardly groan. That green-eyed monster doesn’t look good coming out of me.

A smile spreads across his face like he won this battle before it even started. Selfish prick.

“I’m sensing some jealousy there, Skip.” He moves a little closer to me, gauging if I’m going to accept the proximity or if I’m going to knee him in the balls. Honestly, either possibility is a high probability right now.

“You wish I’d spend even a second jealous about your high-maintenance ass.” I honestly don’t know what he’s hoping to do here. I mean, so he played with me using my vibrator—let’s call it what it is—a glitch in the matrix.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.” I’m about to chime in, and he stops me. “The date meant nothing, Kennedy. I swear.” I hear the sincerity in his voice, but it doesn’t mean I completely let go of my anger.

However, I hate the way my shoulders sag a bit with his words. I don’t want to feel relief knowing he didn’t care aboutthis person he went on a date with. It’s never bothered me in the past, but now, it feels like a weight lifted off my chest, knowing this date was nothing to him. Maybe I’m hoping that if that means nothing, I mean something.

This is why I avoid situations like these. I hate this feeling of connection with someone. The moment my heart starts to expand, it will only hurt when it doesn’t lead to more. If this whole experience with River last month and my emotional pull toward him now has taught me anything, it’s that I just cannot handle something more with him or with anyone for that matter.

River must sense my mind doing this push and pull, so he leans into my personal space and cups my cheeks with his hands.

“Plus, I can’t start something with someone else when I haven’t gotten my fill of you yet.” He leans in, his eyes searching mine, hoping I’ll give him some sign that this proximity is okay with me.

Despite my desire to keep my distance, to keep my heart whole, the moment I feel his hands on my face, it feels like I have no power to push him away. It’s like all those cracks that etched themselves into my heart years ago begin to find a means to stitch themselves back up.

I don’t pull away, and that’s all the permission he needs to bring his face closer and connect his lips with mine.

The moment I feel those soft lips touch mine, it feels like my world has stopped spinning. The sounds of the cars, the people walking past us on the sidewalk, the horns in the distance all dim. All I feel is River. My only sensation is this one, where we are connected, and it’s like I’m soaring when he’s this close to me. It feels like all the synapses in my body are reserved for this one spot, this one link, where we are finally bridging a gap after years of pushing each other apart.

I grip his biceps, my nails digging into his skin. I swallow his moan, and then he opens up to me, and I let him in. I feel the swipe of his tongue, and then the kiss deepens even more.

Fuck, this feels good. This kiss is all-encompassing, yet not enough of a bond. All these years I pushed River away only to find out that he was the one thing I was missing in my life. As if I lived this life looking for something to make me feel whole again, yet he was the missing piece all along.

I don’t know how long we stay connected, but after what feels like too soon, we come up for air, his eyes opening and connecting with mine.

“Shit, Kennedy.” He swallows, vividly perplexed by the way that kiss tilted both our worlds on its side. For so long, we’ve fought each other, and now it feels like all I want to do is take back all the hateful jabs and replace them with moments like these.

“Shit is right.” That’s all my brain can process right now. I have no idea what this means. I am blanking on how to respond beyond being mesmerized by this unexpected connection with a man I’ve lived to hate for so long.

“There is no fucking way I’m walking away from this after that. No fucking way.” I see the determination in his expression as he looks at me, almost like he’s waiting for me to pull away.

He knows I don’t hold on to people long, and, for the most part, he is all about the casual fling over commitment. Regarding my past, he knows what happened to my parents years ago, but the details are something I’ve always kept close to my chest. Whatever he’s heard, it was from Samara or Ash. My story is vague, even to them, with little detail regarding the accident and how it transformed the trajectory of my life in ways I will never be able to fully comprehend.

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