“Hey, Dad,” I start as I roll onto my side, removing my hand from Kenna’s wrists.
“Good morning, Griff. And-ah, good morning to you, Mack,” my dad says, sheepishly as if he’s the one who was just caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
Kenna sits up with me but hides her face behind my shoulder as she mumbles, “Good morning, Mr. Turner.”
“Mr. Turner? McKenna Marie, I’ve known you for the better part of your life. What’s with the sudden formalities?”
“Sorry! Good morning, Jack,” she says as she slowly peeks her head from behind her hiding spot, her lips grazing my shoulder as she does.
I look down at her and brush my lips across her hairline. Her face is practically as red as my away jersey.
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised this is finally happening. Though I can’t wait to hear what Theo has to say about it,” he says as his eyes glint with mischief. “He’s going to put you through the wringer, Griff.”
My eyes shoot up to meet my dad’s. “Why would he do that? Teddy has always loved me like a second son.”
“That was before he knew you were having sleepovers with his only daughter.” He chuckles.
I look back down at Kenna. “Do you think he’s right?”
“I mean, he’s not wrong. I am, and always will be, his little girl.”
“Good, let him give me the third degree. Some have said I’m as charming as they come.”
Not letting my eyes leave Kenna’s, I ask my dad, “Did you need anything, Dad? We’re going to head to the gym with Carse and Katie in a bit.”
“Nope. Just came out here to enjoy my morning coffee and thought I’d give you some shit since it took the two of you so long to figure out what your mom and I saw from the start.”
My throat clogs with emotion, the way it does any time I think of my mom, and I struggle to get out a reply. Kenna’s breath catches and her eyes glass over with unshed tears.
Dad continues so we don’t have to. “She always loved you, Mack. I think it must have been the day you fell off the treehouse ladder, and Griff refused to let you out of his sight. That was it. That’s when my Catherine said she knew the two of you were going to end up together. I told her it was just wishful thinking since she was so close with your mama. But she said it was a mother’s intuition. I’ve seen glimpses of it over the years, but my son is a stubborn ass sometimes.” He winks at Kenna as he takes a drink from his mug.
Well, that feels like he just dropped a couple of cinder blocks to my chest. I didn’t know she felt that way. I mean, how could I? Mom passed before we ever got the chance to talk about girls and crushes. The weight of missing her comes and goes, but I find comfort in knowing she thought Kenna and I would be together someday.
“We’ve, ah, we’ve got to get going to the gym,” Kenna mumbles as she quickly stands up. “I’m going to go get changed, and I’ll meet you out front.”
She begins to bolt away, but I wrap my arms around her waist and scoop her into my arms.
“Wait just a second.” I bring my lips to her ear. “Don’t run off without kissing me goodbye, Sunshine.”
“It’s not goodbye. We’re literally going to be riding to the gym together in five minutes.” She giggles as I tickle her neck with the scruff of my five o’clock shadow.
I kiss her neck once, twice, before she pulls out of my hold. I swat her ass as she spins to start toward her house. She winks at me over her shoulder, and I bite my lip to fight back a groan.
Backing up a few steps, I turn and jog up the back steps to my house.
“Don’t start,” I tell my dad as I walk through the sliding door when he gives me a knowing look.
“I didn’t say a thing.” He continues, “But have you thought this through? I don’t want to see her get hurt if you’re not ready for this. What’s going to happen when you go back to Boston in a couple of months?”
Though we haven’t discussed it yet, I know I can handle making Kenna a priority.
“I’ve thought a lot about this. For years, really. I wouldn’t risk my friendship with Carse, or Kenna’s with Katie if this wasn’t something I wanted. I think we can make long-distance work. We’re both athletes and will be busy, but thankfully, our off-seasons somewhat align. I’ll make the effort to come home more, and I can see if she’d want to fly out to visit.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Son. I think she’s good for you. Just be sure the two of you are on the same page. Don’t wait until the end of the summerto have the tough conversations,” he adds. His concern is written all over his face—Kenna is like a second daughter to him.
I nod, then turn to head upstairs to get changed. I pull a clean pair of gym shorts out of my dresser that stands next to a row of three picture windows. I’m putting on deodorant and looking out the window when I spot movement in the house next door. Kenna’s room is right across from mine, and growing up, I might have glimpsed out there a time or two . . . dozen.
Kenna’s standing at her mirrored armoire, and it looks like she’s touching her neck and shaking her head in disbelief—likely at the line of hickeys marking her neck and collarbone. A tightness fills my chest at the thought of my marks on her skin.
