Page 48 of Keeping Kyle

I’ll be there as fast as I can. I capped that off with an airplane, car, and smiley emoji.

At least if our relationship ended, it’d be over what I imagined would be an amazing meal.

I didn’t know how we could keep this going. I didn’t know how to be the man Kyle deserved. With the trade, at least he’d be in a new place to start again. Although that meant no family around him, which he’d hate.

I couldn’t think about this without making my head hurt with regret.

The more I considered it, the more I didn’t know how we’d escape with our hearts intact.

TWENTY-FIVE

KYLE

HE’D RESPONDED!

After so many days, a single sentence postgame somehow shook out a response.

And what the hell was I doing, pouring my heart out in a text?

We needed to talk. Was this the right way to go?

Neutral territory might’ve been a better idea than my kitchen.

Time ticked down. My defenses had to be up so I wouldn’t say a bunch of nice things and then convince him to make out—which I really wanted. A serious talk had to happen though.

Maybe management could walk in and tell me I had to go to Phoenix immediately. Do not pass go. Do not collect your potential boyfriend. Go be a center in another state. Thank you and goodbye. That would be the only thing that could extract me from what I’d signed myself up for.

I finished getting cleaned up, and no escape hatch appeared. With no other choice, I headed home. No sooner was I in the car and I got fidgety, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel while my left leg bounced.

At home, I tidied up what little there was to put away—a few stray dishes in the sink and some mail that was spread across the coffee table. Prepping the food relaxed me a bit. The bacon needed to be cooked and cooled so it could be chopped before going into the pancake batter.

What possessed me to send that message? So freaking stupid.

The consolation was that we’d soon know where we stood.

As I cooked up way more bacon than I needed, my phone chirped.

Walking through the airport now. Need me to pick up anything?

It’d be embarrassing if I said no only to discover that I indeed needed something, but my quick inventory showed everything was here.

Nope. All good. See you when you get here.

I grabbed a few strips of that extra bacon and chowed down. The postgame hunger creeped in, and nobody was going to miss them.

Great. Be there soon.

Did I need to change clothes? As soon as I’d gotten home, I stripped out of my suit—no way I’d cook in that. But were sweats the best choice?

I headed to the bedroom. I couldn’t cook anything else until Austin arrived. My nerves had me overthinking everything. Sweats were fine. He’d seen me in sweats before. This wasn’t a date. We were eating and talking.

I straightened the bed up since I’d not made it this morning. Silly since we had no business ending up back here. Still, I fussed with everything.

The doorbell rang. He’d made good time.

Crap.

Shoes or no shoes. Were socked feet okay?