Page 41 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Michael Cunningham

As I stand outside the Memphis airport waiting for Kyle to pick me up, the fall sun warms me, but dread pools in my stomach.

This may be the trip where I end my relationship with Kyle. For good.

This might seem abrupt, but hear me out.

A few weeks ago, Kyle promised we’d go on vacation together. And we are, which is awesome. But everything after that has been awful.

Kyle still won’t talk about what we’ll be after the Championship game, and the few times I’ve asked him just about the game itself, he hasn’t just been cold. He’s been mean.

And that’s happened the few times I’ve actually been able to see him.

Even though he’s been in town for a majority of this month, he’s blown me off most nights, making up excuses he’s never used before, like how he’s had mandatory team-building sessions with the Tigers or one-on-one training sessions.

Even when I’m with him, it’s like he’s a shadow of himself, just like how David was when he drank. But Kyle doesn’t drink. So I don’t know what’s wrong.

After all this, he still bought me a ticket down to Glamour Springs, but that doesn’t undo all the damage he’s done.

This relationship is starting to feel like it did with David.

I made a promise to myself to not date emotionally unavailable men, and right now, Kyle’s as emotionally unavailable as they come.

I’m currently querying my romantasy about two gay knights, but I’ve been having writers block with my next novel, and I suspect that my failing relationship with Kyle has something to do with it.

I’m not letting immature men stymie my creative process anymore.

But Susan also suggested not to do or say anything too soon. Kyle and I still had this trip planned, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to see how I really feel about us. I’ll try to enjoy it, but I won’t hesitate to end our relationship if it feels right.

Speaking of which, a man more handsome than I can stand pulls up to the curb. I trot over to the trunk, plop my bags inside, then get in the passenger seat. I shut the door, and Kyle’s wearing these old aviators that make him look like a hot daddy.

“There’s my man,” he says. He leans over the console and kisses me.

I freeze. “There are people around,” I say, pointing to the college students also waiting on the curb.

He swats his hand. “They don’t see it’s me,” he says. “And besides, you’re worth it.”

A warm feeling brews in my chest. This is the true Kyle Weaver. Before he went cold.

“You ready for turkey day?” he asks as we make our way out of the airport parking lot.

“I am,” I say. “Excited to meet your mom.”

He smiles. “She’s excited to meet you too.”

I’m tempted to ask if she knows about us yet, but I don’t want to be disappointed. So I keep the question to myself.

On the drive, we catch up with what we’ve been reading.

Even though Kyle doesn’t need to be in the romance book club, he still asks me to bring him his weekly copy.

And somehow, on top of his NFO schedule, he gets the reading in.

Before, he hated romance, but now he gobbles it up.

I don’t know how, but it makes me believe he’s more emotionally available than I think.

Why else would he read a bunch of romance for fun?

Ugh. This is confusing .

Because on top of all this, I love Kyle.

I love talking about nonsense, hearing his thoughts about what he’s reading, about his gameplay.

I love it when he asks about my writing.

David sure as hell never did that, and I only have a few choice friends that do.

Right now, he feels like a boyfriend—the same man I fell in love with.

I feel guilty for even wanting to break up with him.

By the time we reach Glamour Springs, just outside of Miss U, I’m convinced that Kyle’s frozen heart from this month has thawed. Something’s changed in him.

We pull into his mother’s gravel driveway.

It’s one of those small, postage stamp houses, but the front porch is surrounded with flowers I didn’t even know could bloom this late in the fall.

It is warmer down here, but still. The house is painted a bright red, and there are bird feeders and windchimes hanging all around the porch.

A ways behind the house, there’s a hill that leads down to a placid looking lake.

On the far end, there’s a big wooden building with a dock attached, and then a bunch of small wooden cabins surrounding the lake. It’s idyllic.

Kyle gets out of the car and hurries around it. By the time I’ve unlocked my door, he’s opened it for me and holding it out wide.

I thank him and step out to smell the crisp fall air.

The air also feels fresher down here, and I’m surprised how quiet it is.

All I can hear are Kyle’s feet crunching the gravel as he pulls our bags out of the trunk.

I then hear the metal creak of a door opening, and I turn to see a petite woman with a gray bob walking out onto the porch.

“I finally get to meet him,” she says. She hugs her orange cardigan tightly around herself as she walks down the porch stairs.

“Ma,” Kyle says, dropping our bags next to me. “This is Michael. Michael, this is my ma.”

“Call me Linda,” she says, coming to us. “Welcome to Glamour Springs.” She wraps her arms around me with a force I didn’t think a woman of her size could have. I try to hug her back with the same fervor, but I swear I’m weaker. There has to be something in the water down here .

“So nice to meet you,” I say, able to breathe when she lets me go. “Thank you so much for having me in your home.”

“About that,” she says, eyeing Michael then me like she’s got a spicy secret. I like her already.

“What, ma?” Kyle asks. His accent was noticeable before, but it’s now taken on a life of his own. It’s like his mom brings out his true self.

“I’ve got a surprise for both of you,” she says. She turns and gestures for us to follow. “Come inside.”

I reach to grab my bag, but Kyle blocks my hand. He picks up the bags himself, showing just how big his arms have gotten this season.

“Welcome to my home,” he says. “Well, sorta. My ma’s.

But it’s my own.” He kisses me on the lips, and I hold it there.

This is the Kyle I love, the one who’s present and available and kind and thoughtful.

The one who has been fading away over the past few months.

But he’s here now. And I don’t want him to go away.

“I’m happy to be here,” I say.

“Come on inside!” Linda yells. “The brownies will get cold.”

We get inside, and I relish the scent of lavender. A large, hairless cat with a blue collar comes up and rubs her leg against me, jingling the bell on its collar.

“Miss Beautiful,” Kyle says. “You be nice to Michael.”

I laugh. “Miss Beautiful?”

“Hope you’re not allergic,” Linda says from the kitchen. “She can be a real devil.”

Kyle leans into me. “She’s the sweetest thing to walk the earth,” he says. “And my ma knows it.”

I smile as I crouch down to pet Miss Beautiful. She purrs like a truck engine, nearly knocking me over as she tries to scratch her back against my leg.

“Come on,” Kyle says, walking into the kitchen.

I stand and follow him into the kitchen. Both the counter and table are covered with all different sizes of aluminum containers.

“Sheesh, Linda,” I say. “You went all out. ”

“Thanksgiving’s my favorite holiday,” she says, putting on an apron. “And I still have to bake some pies. Here.” She puts out a plate of decadent looking brownies with orange goo on the top, likely caramel, and small salt flakes.

“Ma, you made these?” Kyle asks, widening his eyes. He stares down at the plate, nearly drooling. “It’s been years since I’ve had this.”

“It’s my surprise on this special occasion,” she says, looking between the both of us. “Try it!”

I pick up one of the brownies and take a generous bite. Warm caramel oozes into my mouth, and I can’t stop myself from moaning.

I put my hand on the plate. “Can I just take this whole thing home with me?”

Linda laughs. “Oh, you. I’ll make some more to take before you leave. Better eat them before you get on the plane!”

“Ma,” Kyle says as I finish up the delicious brownie. “This is so nice of you. You didn’t have to do this.”

She shrugs. “It’s not every day that your only son brings a wonderful man home.”

My stomach clenches, and I glance over at Kyle. He’s blushing, almost embarrassed. Does his mom know about us? She’s talking as if it’s obvious, but it looks like Kyle hasn’t said a thing.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” I ask. “To help?”

“Oh, you’re sweet,” she says, shooing me. “But I love cooking and this time of year, giving away the food. It’s like meditation.”

“Yeah,” Michael says. “And if you try to help her, she’ll whack you with a wooden spoon.”

She holds up a wooden spoon and wears a menacing expression, then laughs and relaxes. She goes up to Kyle and kisses him on the cheek. Then she squeezes my arm.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” she says. “You’re welcome any time. I’m happy you’re here with my son.”

Something sticks in the back of my throat, and I have to clear it. She pulls away and starts gathering ingredients for what looks like a pumpkin pie, but I’m still reeling .

I can’t remember the last time my own mother held me like that, like she loved me. And Kyle’s mom is already treating me like one of her own. I know I said that I might break up with Kyle on this trip, but how could I after this? I could have a loving family with Kyle.

Kyle brightens. “I know what we can do,” he says. “I’ll take you to The Book Corner. It’s a lesbian-owned coffee shop.”

I raise my brow. “There are lesbians out here? In small town Mississippi?”

Linda starts measuring some sugar. “Glamour Springs is a wonderful little progressive dot. I love Mississippi, but it has its flaws. Living here is like having everything I could want.”