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“Good. Let me finish up with Carter’s things after breakfast. I doubt there’s much more that needs thinking about and then we can leave around lunchtime. Sound good?”
“Will you show me your tattoo?” she asks shyly.
“You want to see it now?” She’s one surprise after another, my girl.
Kerry nods, a small smile on her lips. “If it’s horrible, I might have to change my mind.”
I growl at that. “You’ll have to help, sweetness. Here, hold my shirt up.”
No point in giving her time to second guess this, so I pull down my pants. She sucks in her breath as she raises the hem of my shirt and sees her name in large loopy letters surrounded by the flowers from her wedding bouquet.
“You…. I… why?” she asks plaintively.
I tug my pants back up before turning to her. She looks sad and bewildered.
“Kerry, when I put your name on me, I didn’t ever expect to have a chance with you. I started it about eight years ago and it was simply a reminder to myself that if I couldn’t have you, I wanted to live with you in mind. To be a man you would be proud of. I add a flower every year on your birthday. And I went with the ones from your bouquet because I figured you must have liked those.” I shrug lightly to lighten the vibe of the room, which has an intensity I wasn’t expecting.
Kerry swipes at the corners of her eyes. “I’m not nearly exciting enough to inspire that kind of devotion,” she says doubtfully.
6
Kerry
In all honesty, I’d have run scared from this much emotion by now if it weren’t for Carter telling me point blank his brother is a good guy. I trust Carter’s judgment — he knew me better than anyone. The fact that Trevor is younger pales in comparison to just how intense he is.
I had absolutely no clue he was harboring this deep passion — okay, obsession — for me all these years. It’s flattering, but also comes with a lot of pressure to live up to that. At the same time, I feel more alive and ready to take a few risks than I ever have before. My fault entirely. I’m the one that insisted on hiding myself away here, on the edge of a small town, far away from my past.
After breakfast, I shoo Trevor upstairs while I do dishes and otherwise try to find my equilibrium. I’d already cleared this week of online appointments, so after I check my email for the day, I’m done with those obligations.
On my way to pack a bag for this weekend getaway Trevor is so set on, I stop by Carter’s room. Trevor is sitting on the floor with a silly smile on his face, playing with vintage miniature cars. I can’t hold back the laughter. “How old are you again?”
His smile turns full-on masculine appreciation as he eyes me from his seated position. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to have a chance to play with these?”
“Forbidden fruit?” I inquire, trying to see the appeal in the faded colored paint on the little metal vehicles.
“Something like that. Carter got these from our uncle before I was born. By the time I was old enough to want to play with them, he had them under lock and key as collector’s items. When he left home, he took them with him — out of sheer spite, I always thought.” He grins gleefully as he sends a tiny truck into the side of a VW bug.
“Did you get anything else done, or would you like a snack of carrot sticks and milk in here before your nap?”
Trevor rises to his feet, the smile fading from his face. “Now you’re going to have to play, too. I know you know how. You proved that this morning.”
I gulp because he’s now looming over me, not resembling a boy at all. Then the grin reappears as he tugs me reluctantly down to the floor. He hands me a blue sedan. “Winner gets a kiss.”
“Hey, how can I be sure you didn’t hand me the broken down lemon?” I ask accusingly.
He sighs. “Take your pick, Cupcake.”
Trevor waits while I peruse the assortment of about a hundred die-cast toys. I settle on a lavender pickup truck with tiny fins. It looks like it wants to go fast.
“Ready, set, go!” Trevor calls from just behind my ear. Our cars crash into each other. “Two out of three,” he mutters.
“I get to call this one, then,” I insist not liking the split second advantage he has by being in control.
“Go!” I call, abandoning all protocol. Unfortunately, my little truck skitters sideways and Trevor wins that round.
“I’ll overlook that blatant attempt at cheating if I’m allowed to kiss you with tongue,” he challenges.
“Only if you win,” I mutter, my competitive streak fully engaged.
