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fourteen

Cole

I walk into the kitchen at my parents’ house, rubbing my head as I try to relieve the headache that’s forming.

“Dad’s too loud, huh?” Harlow smirks as she stirs the cranberry sauce on the stove. Because we eat the real shit in my family.

“You know he is,” I laugh. “He should not be allowed to watch football on Thanksgiving.”

“He’s just as bad with hockey,” Knox chimes in, coming to stand beside my sister. “Harlow and I came over last weekend to watch the New York Kings game with him, and I swear James was about to have a heart attack.”

My mother, Vivian, walks back into the kitchen now, returning from the basement. “There’s a reason I hate the football and hockey seasons.”

I lean back against the counter, hands bracing the edge of the granite. “Be happy I picked baseball then.”

“Believe me, I’m grateful every day that I don’t have to watch you ram into people headfirst.”

“And,” Harlow says, “you can be happy your daughter has no athletic ability whatsoever, so you never had to worry about me.”

I slap a hand on Knox’s shoulder. “Your boyfriend has enough talent for the both of you.”

Knox throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’m twenty-nine now—I don’t know how many more years I have left before my arm gives out anyway.”

“As long as you don’t tear your UCL,” I say, “you’ve probably got more time left than you think.”

“Average pitcher retires around thirty-two,” he sighs. “Tommy John surgery would probably be career-ending for me at this point.”

Harlow removes her pot from the burner and turns around to face us. “Why are we being so damn morbid right now? You’re both in your twenties—no one is ending their career yet.”

Knox and I laugh as my mom pulls the turkey out of the oven and sets it on a large trivet on the counter. “Cole,” she asks. “Can you grab the carving knife and take care of this?”

“Sure, Mom.” I grab the electric carving knife from the cabinet on the kitchen island before returning to the counter. “This turkey is kinda small. Is it just us this year?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Your grandparents have been a bit under the weather recently, so they’re just staying home today.”

“Fair enough.”

As I carve the turkey, my dad comes in now that the game is at halftime and sets up the table while my mom, Harlow, and Knox work together to get all of the food in the serving dishes. Once the turkey is ready, we spread everything out at the large dining room table.

Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, green beans, corn, cranberry sauce, rolls, and plenty of pumpkin pie.

I fucking love Thanksgiving.

The five of us take our seats, doling out the food before us until we settle into quiet conversation.

Dad asks Knox about his favorite game he’s pitched—game seven of the World Series, obviously.

Mom talks about some reality show she’s really into lately.

Harlow tells us about the new laptop she bought herself with her increased earnings from Starred and Fast .

I talk about my trip to the planetarium—my parents miss the smirks on Knox and Harlow’s faces when they hear I went with Rory. I just ignore them.

“Now that we’ve finished eating,” Mom says, “why don’t we go around and say what we’re thankful for this year?”

I sigh. This isn’t my favorite tradition by any means, but I know how much she loves it, which means I’ll do it anyway.

So, we go around the table. Most of our responses are typical, though.

Dad is thankful for a healthy year, Mom is thankful to have both of her kids nearby, I’m thankful I play for a great team, and Harlow is thankful that her blog is helping more people learn about the sport we all love.

And then we get to Knox, my grumpy best friend who turned into the biggest fucking romantic.

“I have a lot to be thankful for this year,” he says. “Winning the World Series was incredible, but finding Harlow was even better.” He smiles down at her as she blushes, pressing her head against his shoulder.

As much as I want to give him shit for his massive change in demeanor, I can’t bring myself to do it. Because he has what I want.

He has love.

The more time that passes, the more I realize that’s what I’m craving. And there’s only one woman I want that with.

As if on instinct, I pull out my phone, texting under the table like I’m still in high school and trying to hide my phone from my teacher.

Cole

Happy Thanksgiving, Starlight

Rory

Happy Thanksgiving, Sparrow

Having a good time?

Cole

Yeah, always loved Thanksgiving

Get to eat too much and not get judged for it

It’s all I’ve ever wanted

Rory

You’re ridiculous

Cole

And you don’t hate it

Rory

No, I don’t

Cole

You ready for your flight tomorrow morning?

Rory

No

I have to finish packing tonight

Cole

Want some help?

Rory

You’re just looking for an opportunity to rifle through my drawers

Cole

I’m offended, Rory

I’d never, absolutely not, no chance

Rory

Excessive denial is pretty telling when a simple no would have sufficed

But come on over

If I stay at my dad’s much longer, I’m going to go into a food coma, and I’ll need you to roll me home

Cole

I’ll meet you at your place then

See you soon

“I think I’m all set now,” Rory says as she flops onto her bed while I try to zip up her overfilled suitcase.

“I think you’re set for a month,” I laugh. “I can barely close the goddamn suitcase.”

“Oh, shush. You said you wanted to come over and help.”

“Yeah, and you put me to fucking work.”

“You sat on my suitcase and zipped it, Cole.”

“That’s hard work, you know.”

Rory pretends to pout at me. “You poor baby. How ever will you survive?”

With the suitcase now finally zipped, I lay down beside Rory on the bed, turning my head to the side to face her. “I’m here with you; I’ll be okay.”

“What does that mean?” She eyes me curiously.

“It means I like seeing you, obviously.”

“You see me literally all the time,” she smiles.

“But you’re leaving for the weekend.”

“Is that too long for you?” she teases.

“Fuck yes,” I reply emphatically. “You’re one of my favorite people, Ror. You have to know that by now.”

She tries to hide her grin, but she’s unsuccessful. “You’re one of my favorite people, too, Cole.”

My plan for coming over here was just to see her before she was gone all weekend. With Knox being a complete sap at dinner, I was aching to come see Rory.

I figured this would be like one of our regular visits—playful and fun, maybe a little bit flirty—just like usual.

But the air is shifting.

It’s growing thick, the tension between us almost insurmountable.

When Rory’s breath catches in her throat, I’m confident she can feel it, too.

My hand is lying on the bed between us, so she slowly slides hers over so we’re almost touching, leaving just enough distance between us to not brush up against me.

But I’m tired of pretending nothing’s there. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me that she knows this could be something, we could be something.

And that’s enough to make me brush my finger against her hand.

That single-handedly might be the worst mistake I’ve ever made.

The lightest of touches has electricity coursing through me, confirming for me that this is something real .

I’m battling with myself right now, trying to figure out what to do. I know I should leave and get myself out of this situation.

But the only thing I want to do is lean over and kiss her.

And I think about doing it. My will is fading; it’s just a distant voice in my head now.

Before I can really move, though, Rory bolts out of her bed. “Well, I should probably call it a night. Gotta get to the airport by seven, and you know how traffic is going to JFK.”

“Yeah,” I reply, sitting up as my voice wavers. “You should probably get some sleep.”

“Thanks for coming over to help, Cole. I appreciate it.”

I stand now, walking across the room and heading toward her door so I don’t do something to make her more uncomfortable. “No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

“Right. Friends.”

I sigh as I open her bedroom door before turning to look back. “Have a good time in Vegas, Starlight.”

I can hear her say bye as I softly shut the door behind me. I scrub a hand over my face and make a beeline straight to her door to get myself out of this situation.

I should be thankful she stopped me.

I should be thankful she kept me from risking everything.

But I’m not fucking thankful at all.

I can’t keep pretending to just be her friend. I’ve never wanted to just be her friend.

And tonight, I was going to fucking go for it.

But just because I wanted to give in doesn’t mean she did. She looked like she did, so I thought taking the chance would lead to something.

But it didn’t. Now, she’ll be gone the entire weekend, and I’ll have to wait until she returns before we can talk about it.

I guess that’s one way to end the holiday.