I realized it yesterday at the shoot. I didn’t know what it felt like to be in love, and the realization that I am snuck up on me in the worst way possible. I leave tomorrow and I’m in love with Kai and his son. I’m in love with the life and friendships I built here.
And none of it matters because this was simply a pit stop to getting back to my real life.
“If there’s any chance of you coming back to see them . . .” Isaiah shakes his head. “I don’t know what I’m asking here. I’m just trying to repay Kai for everything he’s done for me, and I’ve never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you. I’ve never seen him so immersed in someone else’s orbit, and I don’t know how you did that. If you found a crack and wormed your way in or what, but he’s been so focused on Max for the last year that he forgot about himself. But you . . . you didn’t forget about him. I’m asking that you don’t forget about him when you go.”
“Isaiah.” My head falls to his shoulder with an exhale. “Trust me, I’ll never be able to forget your brother.”
I’ll never ever be able to forget about Kai or his son. They’ve etched themselves onto my soul and unfortunately, I’ll never be able to tell Kai that, to give him any sign of hope that I could stay. Tomorrow I leave town, and I’m hurting, aching at the homesickness that’s already begun to settle into my bones.
It’s one of our rules—no grand declarations of love.
I asked Kai to remember that we’re simply a summer fling, and I’m praying for his sake that I’m the only one who forgot.
“Hey, are you Miller? Emmett’s daughter?”
Looking up, a man that looks to be my dad’s age comes hopping down the stairs into the dugout. He seems nice enough until I zero in on Atlanta’s team logo on his quarter-zip.
Lifting my head off Isaiah’s shoulder, I say, “Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Brian. Your dad and I used to play together in the majors back in the day.”
“Oh, very cool. It’s nice to meet you. Are you working for Atlanta now?” I gesture towards the logo on his chest.
“I am. I’d love to come and work with your dad someday, though. He and I used to make a hell of a pair. In fact, he was my catcher until he decided to retire mid-season while we were on a World Series-winning pace.”
The smile on my lips falls. He retired that season because of me.
“He and I both would have our own rings if he stayed and played out that season, but he just had to call it quits. Absolutely wild to me.” Brian shakes his head in disbelief.
“It was a . . . tough time for us then.”
“Yeah.” He exhales a humorless laugh. “It’s a shame that his rash decision cost him his career.”
Isaiah looks from the Atlanta coach to me. “What is he talking about?”
I shake him off, realizing Kai hadn’t even told his brother about Monty not being my biological dad or how our family came to be.
“Emmett quit mid-season to adopt her.” Brian gestures to me. “She didn’t have anywhere to go so he left the league and started coaching at some tiny shithole of a college. He gave up a good chunk of change over it too.”
I can feel Isaiah’s attention burning into the side of my face, but all I can do is keep my head down, staring at my feet. As if I didn’t still feel guilty all these years later over my dad giving up his life for me, this random dude had to remind me with an audience present.
“Your dad said you’re some big-shot chef now.” Brian continues. “Said you’re going to be on the cover of some magazine soon. That’s good to hear. At least you’re doing something impressive with your life after he gave up his.”
“Hey.” Isaiah stands from the bench. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Brian seems genuinely confused, as if he were simply stating facts and not trying to make me feel bad with his words.
“Isaiah, it’s okay.” I pull his arm back for him to return to the bench next to me. “He’s right.”
As much as the words burn to hear, it’s exactly the reminder I need to get through tonight and back on the road tomorrow.
Chapter 35
Kai
Miller is looking out the passenger window of my truck, watching the city skyscrapers as we leave downtown to head home.
I don’t ask what’s wrong because we both know. She leaves in a handful of hours; the countdown on our time together hits zero in the morning.