Page 34 of Whirlwind (Seattle Blades #4)

M y call went straight to voicemail. Even though I told her last night that I’d stick to her timeline, I was worried. So, I called Kit. Well, tried to, anyway. She obviously isn’t ready to talk to me. Not that I blame her.

I fucked up.

It’s not what she thinks, though, and I’m not giving up. Not fucking ever. Blowing up her phone won’t do any good. I need a better plan, and she, understandably, needs space from my dumb ass.

Last night, after I dropped her home, she looked so small in her yard, waiting for Nightmare.

It was my fault. I did that to her. I propped up her fragile confidence at the beginning of the night, only to shatter it completely, hours later.

Because I got caught up in my own head instead of telling her all the things I was thinking.

She may never forgive me. Not when she trusts so few people. Not when we were so new, still. Kit’s the type to cut her losses and move on. Who could blame her?

“Fuck,” I mutter, dumping my wallet and keys into my cubby.

“I feel you,” Cillian says from his spot next to mine. “If Isla had to leave for a death in the family, I’d be agonizing over it, too.”

“What?” I ask. “Who had a death in the family?”

“You didn’t hear?” he asks.

“Hear what?”

“Kit’s grandmother died,” he says, except, now, he sounds like maybe he wasn’t supposed to say anything. “Why don’t you know that?”

“Willa said Tyson and Kit got into a fight last night,” Zander says as he walks up to us. “She didn’t call him.”

“You fought? About what?”

“It wasn’t a fight,” I say, shaking my head. “Back up, her grandma died?”

“Yeah, man. Last night, I guess. Her dad called early this morning,” Zander says.

“She talked to her fucking father?”

“I guess,” Zan says. “It all happened quickly. She called Willa, and Damian got them on a flight first thing this morning.”

“To Maine?” Anger and worry swim in my gut. I don’t want her anywhere near her father, but especially not without me by her side to make sure he doesn’t hurt her. Again. I promised her he couldn’t do that. I promised myself I’d never let it happen.

“Yes,” Zander says.

“No,” I say. “Fuck, no. She can’t go there alone.” I sit on the bench, drop my head in my hands. What do I do? We have practice today, and a game tomorrow. How do I fulfill my responsibilities here, and to her?

“She’s not alone. Willa and Damian went, too.”

“Damian is with them?” I ask, and he nods. “Where’s Nightmare?”

“My house,” Cillian says. “Sadie is puppy sitting.”

“I bet she loves that,” Zander says, and Cillian rambles about how Sadie was so excited to have him at their house that she almost peed her pants because she didn’t want to take a break from playing to go to the bathroom.

This isn’t right.

“Isla had to carry Nightmare to the bathroom with her, just so she’d go,” Cillian says, laughing. “We can’t quit holding out on the kid, she wants a puppy so badly.”

“This isn’t right,” I say aloud, this time. “I can’t be here.”

My heart beats wildly, a painful banging inside my chest, as if it’s trying to escape me and run to her. It wants to be with Kit. Not here. Not here.

“Damian and Willa will keep an eye on her,” Zander says.

“That’s not good enough,” I argue. “Do you know what happened to her in Maine?”

“Not entirely. But Willa does.”

As much as I trust Willa to help Kit, it’s not enough. Again, I picture her like she was last night. Alone, shaking and upset. Even on her strongest day, this would be a difficult trip for her.

“It’s not right,” I repeat. “I need to be there.”

“Does she want you there?” Zander asks.

Would she? I can’t answer with certainty, not after last night. But I think she would. Kit is emotional, but not in that way. She isn’t petty or immature. She’d set aside my infraction and take my support. There’s plenty of time to hate me after she buries her grandmother and comes back home.

“I won’t know until I show up.”

“What about the game tomorrow?” Cillian asks, sounding…approving.

“You guys can win one without me,” I say, and he nods, smiling.

“We’ll hold it down, you go help your woman,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “I’d do the same in your shoes.”

I can’t help but wonder if he’d have a different reaction if he knew the reason Kit isn’t talking to me. That’s not as important, right now, as getting to her, though. Like everything else, there’s time to deal with that later.

“Do you know what flight they’re on?” I ask Zander.

“They’re already in the air,” he says. “I’ll forward you what I know, but it isn’t much.”

“Get in touch with Willa when you get to Bangor,” Coach says. I hadn’t noticed him lurking behind us. “I’ll handle things with management, here, to keep you out of as much trouble as I can with them.”

“Thank you, Coach.”

“I’m relying on you and Damian to take care of my girls.”

“We will, sir.”

It takes me all day to get to Bangor. It was already late when I landed and got a rental car.

Then, there was another ninety-minute drive up to the small-town Kit grew up in.

Willa gave me the address of Kit’s grandmother’s house.

They plan on staying there, but she let me know of a motel nearby.

Zander had let her know I was on my way, when they landed.

She told Kit, who, I got the impression, was indifferent to the information.

Skipping the motel, I head straight to Kit.

There won’t be any sleep until I see her; I’m far too amped up with concern.

Maybe it’s stupid to be this worried. I’m not trying to treat her like she’s too fragile to handle this.

I know she’s not, and I know she’ll get through this like she does everything.

With shaky confidence and an abundance of courage.

If she wavers, I want to be her crutch. That’s all. If by the time she’s ready to fly home, she still wants space from me, I’ll take that shit like a man and give it to her. I’ll hate every fucking minute of it, but that’s the bed I made.

My phone chimes as I pull up to the postage stamp of a house that Kit’s grandmother lived in.

Lottie:

Are you there yet?

I’d called both Lot and my mother while I waited at the airport to board, this morning.

Neither is happy with how I screwed shit up.

Lottie ran me through the wringer, using every swear word in her arsenal at least twice, before she let me explain what was rattling through my brain when I used the wrong name with Kit.

After that, she settled down and told me she was proud of me for putting my career aside for a woman. Something she didn’t think I’d have done for Isla, when we were dating.

My mom tried to be more understanding, but I think she wanted to use some foul language with me, too.

Me:

Just pulled up.

Lottie:

Glad you made it safe. Don’t fuck up anymore, dickhead.

Me:

I won’t. Promise.

The house isn’t much bigger than Kit’s in Seattle.

This house has seen better days. The pale yellow paint is dingy and peeling, several of the shutters are hanging on for dear life, and I’d be shocked if the roof isn’t leaking.

I’m scared the front door will cave in if I knock too hard, so I rap on it lightly.

“Hi, Tyson,” Damian greets when he opens the door.

“Hey, thanks for getting her here.”

“Of course, family first,” he says, moving aside to let me in.

Following the sound of voices, I walk down the short hall. There’s a bathroom at the end, a bedroom on either side. Kit and Willa stand just inside the door of the one on the left.

“That’s where I slept if I stayed over,” Kit says, pointing to a futon mattress lying on the floor in the corner. “I wonder why she never got rid of it.”

“Maybe she wanted to keep a place for you, just in case,” I say, and she spins around to face me.

She stares at me, her eyes haunted. I don’t say anything more, not with words, anyway.

If I can convey them silently, that’s what I’m attempting to do.

There’s something intimate in the silent eye contact.

Something transcendent. If I vocalized that, she’d laugh at me and ask if I want to go look up my horoscope.

So, I keep my sappy lips shut, for now. She bounces on her toes, and I just know she’s curling them inside her shoes. “Hey, Kit.”

I hold my arms out at my sides, and she steps into me, letting me wrap them around her.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” I say.

“You shouldn’t have come, Tyson,” she says, the words muffled in my shirt. My heart cracks, but I knew this wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ll leave if you want, go check into the motel. But I’m not leaving Maine until you do.”

“You have a game tomorrow.”

“I made a promise,” I say, cupping her face. “When you’re back at home safely, I’ll go back to work.”

“I haven’t forgiven you,” she whispers.

“You don’t need to forgive me for me to keep my promises to you,” I say. “You don’t owe me that, or anything else. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agrees after a moment.

“Did you see your father?”

“He dropped the key under the mat before we got here,” she says, shaking her head.

Thank fuck for small miracles.

“How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know, really. It’s weird being here,” she says. “It’s weird you’re here, too. I appreciate it, Tyson. I do. I just don’t…”

“I get it, Kit,” I say. I wish things were different, but the last thing I want is to make any of this harder for her.

“I’ll go to the motel. I’m only here as a friend who cares about you.

A lot. I needed to see you. I know I fucked up, and we can talk about that back in Seattle, whenever you’re ready.

But I meant what I said. I’m here until you aren’t. ”

“I’ll…I’ll call if I need you,” she stammers.

“Thank you,” I say, and drop a kiss to the crown of her head. “Try and get some sleep.”

“I will.” She looks over her shoulder at the makeshift bed. I can’t guess what’s playing through her mind, I can only hope it’s not all horrible. “Thank you, Tyson. For…well, thank you.”

“Anything you need, love.”