17. Harper

“Let me help.” Trevor snagged one of the bags I was juggling as I headed into the apartment building.

“Thanks,” I said as he took a second plastic bag. Since I didn’t have to go across town to get the kids from Langfield Corp, I had time to stop at the grocery. It had gone by so quickly. So smoothly. Instead of being this awful chore, it had been a quick pit stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone into a store alone. Without a kid begging or throwing a temper tantrum. I didn’t have to worry about them wandering off or getting in the way of other shoppers.

“Where are the kids?” Trevor asked.

“A friend is bringing them home for me.” We stepped onto the elevator, and with his free hand, he hit number four.

“Marissa called me today and asked if I’d trade weekends. She wants to have the kids Friday and Saturday.”

“Really?”

His ex-wife tended to be rigid about the custody schedule, so it was almost shocking that she’d called on Monday to switch for the coming weekend.

He smirked. “She’s going to a family wedding. And since I’m not the asshole that she is, I agreed without a fight, so we swapped.”

“Good for you, being the bigger person.” Last year his kids had missed his sister’s wedding because it had fallen on his ex’s weekend. While most people would be tempted to get payback, it spoke volumes that he wasn’t.

“You know what that means?”

“What?” I asked as we stepped out of the elevator.

“You and I are kid-free on the same weekend.”

I froze outside my door, my stomach sinking. That was…something that had never happened before. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I focused on digging through my purse for my keys while I considered a response. I took my time pretending I couldn’t find them in the pocket where my keys always lived and continued my fake search until I hoped enough time had passed that I could move on from the implication that we would both be kid-free this weekend.

When I’d played the game for as long as I thought I could get away with it, I unlocked the door and headed into the kitchen to set the bags down.

“I’m sure you can guess what I’m going to ask now.” He stepped up behind me and set the white plastic bags beside mine.

My chest tightened. Shit. I really hoped I couldn’t.

He smiled, the expression only filling me with dread. “Drinks Friday?”

Cringing, I searched for an excuse. A reason I wasn’t available. Then a lightbulb went off. Perfect . “Actually,” I said, “I can’t.” The urge to beam was strong, but I schooled my expression into a sympathetic grin. “My friend’s having a birthday party on Friday night.”

“Really?” He arched a skeptical brow. I couldn’t blame him. I never went out, and we’d been neighbors long enough for him to know that.

“Yeah, it’s at the karaoke bar, by Lang Field. The big one. Do you know it?” What was the name? It was on the tip of my tongue. Zara had texted me about it this afternoon.

Mic dropping? Mic Dropper?

“Drop the Mic?”

That was the one. Nodding, I pulled out the almond milk from the bag and quickly tucked it into the fridge so Piper wouldn’t walk in and see it. They were out of her normal brand, and if she saw it before I could pour it into the almost empty carton, it would be a long night.

“Love that place.” He leaned back against my counter, settling in as I shut the fridge.

“I think it’ll be fun.” I hoped. As long as Zara didn’t leave me alone when I knew literally no one else.

“What’s going to be fun?” Piper asked from the doorway.

I tilted to one side so I could see around Trevor. There, in the entrance to the kitchen, stood Piper and Sam. They were still wearing their backpacks. Kyle was behind them, his arms crossed over his chest and his attention fixed on Trevor.

“Did you ask Mom out again?” Sam stepped close and tipped his head back to assess the neighbor.

I winced. It happened so regularly that even the kids expected it.

With a laugh, Trevor mussed Sam’s hair. “The again should make me feel pathetic. But this is the first time I really have hope.”

That was ironic, because I’d said no.

“I’ll see you later.” With a wave, he turned toward the entryway, only to freeze when he caught sight of the large man in my foyer. “Who are you?”

Without responding, Kyle removed his baseball cap, turned it around, and slipped it on backward. Then he settled his hands on his hips.

“Holy shit,” Trevor muttered.

“Bad word,” Piper announced.

“Kyle Bosco.” Trevor’s eyes widened as he looked from Kyle to me and back again. “How?”

I was surprised he recognized Kyle like this. Nothing about the man in the tight black T-shirt and jeans who was standing in my entryway and glaring looked like the Boston Revs’ fun-loving Kyle Bosco.

“You and Streaks are friends?”

“Another person who doesn’t do social media?” Kyle had been more stunned than Zara when he’d discovered that I didn’t have Instagram or TikTok or any of the other apps I couldn’t name.

I cleared my throat. “I think he does.”

Trevor was usually in the know when it came to local sports and other media gossip, so I’d have guessed he probably wasted hours a week scrolling.

“Didn’t see any of my posts this week, man?” His attention was on Trevor.

“Huh?” I asked, arms falling slack at my sides. I was thoroughly confused about where this conversation was going.

With a smirk, Kyle lifted his chin. “Your kids are all over my social media, Crabby.”

I had signed social media waivers, but I’d assumed Hannah would be the one posting, I guess, since she ran the Revs’ official social media pages. And I supposed I figured there would be a post or two, but not much more. If that wasn’t the case, then I was surprised I hadn’t heard from Jace. He was a huge Revs fan.

“Did you see that we won the domino run poll?” The expectation in Piper’s voice made it clear that everyone should know what that meant. She had been very proud of their massive toy creation, so I couldn’t blame her. Though I couldn’t imagine all that many people really cared about a silly competition between kids.

“But the…the foul ball thing,” Trevor stuttered.

“Mom should never have done that.” Piper scowled. “Just looking at the stats, the Revs were the better team. And the Revs would have crushed the Metros going head-to-head. Especially if Asher Price’s and Kyle’s batting averages stayed over .300.”

“That’s my girl.” Kyle smiled down at my daughter.

Trevor stared with his mouth open.

It baffled me, the way so many people fawned over celebrities and athletes. Trevor had been completely capable of conversation, almost too capable, but when Kyle appeared, the man had turned into a stammering mess. People were just people, no matter how well-known they were.

Kyle chuckled. “But I’m an ass. That’s well established. And my jokes, like the foul ball one, miss sometimes. We’ve cleared it up. Harper’s been patient with me, even though she thinks I’m her cross to bear.”

“What kind of a bear?” Sam asked, his hands on his hips like Kyle’s.

I shook my head. Kyle had made a lot of statements like that over the last two weeks. Revs’ representatives too. It was ridiculous that people actually believed that Kyle and I had been friends for a long time. But they did.

“He means a pain in my neck,” I said to my son.

“Oh.” Sam turned to Kyle and nodded vigorously. “She does say that.”

Kyle laughed, the move catching my attention. I couldn’t help but notice the hard line of his jaw, the sparkle in his brown eyes, or the way his hair peeked out from under his hat.

I forced my attention away and focused on my kids. “Okay, shoes off, backpacks away. Let’s go.”

They groaned in unison but didn’t put up any more of a fight as they moved out of the kitchen.

“I’ll get out of the way,” Trevor said, stepping around Kyle. “Have fun on Friday. Maybe I’ll see you.”

Kyle kicked the door shut behind him. “You like that tool bag?” he asked, the question laced with an intensity I didn’t understand.

“He’s nice,” I assured him. “He helped carry in my groceries.”

“I would have too.”

I scoffed and sent him a side eye. “You would have had Cam help me carry in the bags.” I hadn’t known Kyle long, but I had his number.

“Oh please.” He lifted both arms and flexed his biceps. “I’m perfectly capable of doing the heavy lifting.”

Holy moly, he was. A wave of heat washed through me as the muscle bulged, pulling at the sleeve of his fitted T-shirt. Jeez. That simple move was more of a turn-on than anything I’d experienced in years. I gave myself one second to stare before I went back to unpacking the groceries.

“Put the biceps away, Bosco. There aren’t any ball bunnies to impress here.”

He stepped up next to me and pulled a box of granola bars from another bag. “It might be hard to believe, but it’s been a few years since I’ve had any interest in the ball bunnies.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s not the glowing character statement you think it is.”

“You are fiery tonight, Crabby.”

Head tilted, I smirked. “Am I not normally?”

“You always are.” He chuckled. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

“Mom.” Sam stepped back into the galley kitchen. “I put my stuff away. Can Kyle eat wiff us?”

My stomach twisted at the thought. With a shake of my head, I gave my son a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure Kyle has other plans.”

“Nah, I don’t,” Kyle said.

I shot him a quick glare. Thanks for the help . “We’re having gluten-free chicken nuggets and lima beans.”

“My favorite.” He smiled.

“There is no world in which that isn’t a lie.” I laughed at the absurdity of the idea. He probably ate gourmet meals seven nights a week, either out at four-star restaurants or sent in by a personal chef. Lima beans surely wouldn’t make his list of favorites.

Kyle waved his arms wide in an arc over his head. “A stretch of the truth.”

“Seriously? It’s like I say no, and you say?—”

“World Series.”

I blinked. What the hell?

Kyle held a hand up. “You were going with unicorn there, weren’t you? But honestly, the World Series is my unicorn, so it fits.”

“You know how some people get each other so completely that they can finish each other’s sentences?”

He nodded, his brows lifted and his eyes dancing.

“That’s not our thing,” I deadpanned.

Head tossed back, he barked out a laugh.

“So is he staying for dinner?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Awesome.” With a pump of his fist, Sam ran out of the kitchen.

I sighed.

“Am I making the lima beans or the nuggets?” Kyle asked, holding up two white bags.

I rolled my eyes.

“So both? Cool.”

Despite my annoyance, a laugh escaped me.

He dropped the bags to the counter and pulled open the fridge. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Isn’t that my line?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It looks like you’ve got Citizen’s Cider or Knocked Out IPA. Which do you want?”

“Cider.”

Kyle pulled out one of each and passed me the cider.

“Are you really cooking?”

“Sure.” He flipped the bag of nuggets over and studied the cooking instructions. “How hard can air frying these things be?”

I leaned against the counter and took a slow sip of my cider, settling in to watch the show.

After a silent moment, he spun and zeroed in on me. “I’m really serious. How hard is this?”

Shaking my head, I pointed at the air fryer. “See that black thing? Hit the power button. I’ll walk you through it.”

Once the chicken was going and I’d given the kids a ten-minute warning for dinner, I turned and asked the question that had been haunting me for almost a week.

“Why did you start Hope Speaks?”

Kyle froze, his beer halfway to his lips. “I guess you don’t want the token answer.” He smirked, but it was forced.

I shook my head. Since that moment last week when he’d told me he knew what it was like to be drowning, I’d been thinking that maybe his life hadn’t been what I thought it was.

He set his bottle down and rested the heels of his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of his hips. “I have an older brother, Ryan, who was diagnosed back when they called it Asperger syndrome.”

I stepped up beside him, a hip propped against the cabinets and a palm flat on the Formica.

His hand was just two inches from mine, I realized, as he looked down at it and I followed his gaze.

“My dad left when I was two,” he said, focusing on my face again. “I don’t remember him. I guess we saw him here and there during those early years.” He shrugged.

Instinctively, my hand twitched with the need to reach out and offer him comfort. But as he swallowed and glanced away, focusing on his beer, I choked back the urge.

“But by the time I was five, he didn’t come around anymore. So it was just Mom and Ryan and me.”

He tucked his chin to his chest and let out a slow breath. Then he turned so he was facing me and covered my hand with his. The rough skin encased mine in a warmth that soaked into me, deep down in my bones. His deep brown eyes locked on mine.

“I see so much of myself in Sam. And so much of my mom in you. I started Hope Speaks not only to help families financially, but because my mom walked a lonely road for a lot of years, and I never want anyone to have to follow that same path.”

The words wound through me, snaking their way to my heart and ensnaring it. I blinked hard and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Don’t give me too much credit, Crabby. For the most part, I’m still a selfish good-time guy.”

There was vulnerability in that statement. Like he wouldn’t allow himself to believe he was more than just the fun baseball guy.

I shook my head. “You might do a pretty good job of hiding it, but you’re so much more than that.”

Angling close, I pressed my lips against his cheek.

His breath hitched, and his body tensed. The hand on top of mine tightened. I hesitated for a moment, letting his five o’clock shadow tickle my lips.

His eyes met mine. Questions floating in his deep brown irises. His teeth pressed into his lower lip. And my heart skipped.

“ Mom ! You said ten minutes, but it’s already been eleven.”