My stomach drops as I force myself to move. I step slowly, grabbing ahold of the counter and bracing my weight against the cool marble I wiped clean this morning. With my eyes burrowing through the cracked bedroom door, I take one step at a time across the kitchen, my eyes only sweeping the rest of the space when I notice Trevor's tie draped over the dining room chair.
Wasn't he wearing that this morning? And at lunch?
I glance around, the shuffling from the bedroom growing louder, and that's when I see his keys on the end table next to the phone charger he asked to use last night. Everything is so close to normal, I almost think I'm imagining the sounds that keep sneaking into the living room.But then, through the sudden painful silence, Trevor's low voice slips out—husky, breathy.
“Just like that.”
And I know I’m not crazy.
I never was.
I shove the door open, and his head snaps up first, only seconds before his eyes meet mine. "Tess?" he breathes from the edge of our bed, his hand still intertwined in the brunette hair in front of him.
For a second, everything goes quiet again—the kind of stillness that hums in your ears as they find their own heartbeat. But then laughter breaks through, pulling me back to reality.
I don't realize it's mine until the woman on her knees sprints to her feet, her eyes wider than Trevor's as he gathers himself. "Oh, this is good," I manage to say. "I never think of you, right, Trev? Well, thank God because this would be a tough image to shake."
"Fuck, Tess," he mutters, scrambling to zip up his grey work pants. "I thought you weren't coming back tonight."
"Clearly," I say flatly.
The woman—that woman from the office—in a black pencil skirt and matching blazer grabs her phone from the dresser. She pulls her jacket closed as she slinks toward me, the fabric pulling across her chest where her company badge hangs—the same one Trevor wears to the office every morning. "Sorry," she mutters, sliding past me and darting toward the front door.
"Honestly, don't be," I toss over my shoulder. My eyes stay pinned on Trevor's until the front door slams shut and his face hardens in front of me. "Nice."
"It's not what you think," he argues, his cheeks flushed.
"Oh, so you weren't just getting sucked off by Finance Barbie?"
"This was the first time," he spits out as if that's supposed to mean something.
A laugh seeps out again, no real humor behind it. "Well, in that case… " I say sarcastically.
Trevor looks at me, disgust coating his expression. "Don't play all high and mighty with me, Tessa," he spits, his voice sharp. "Look me in the eye, and tell me you're not fucking Liam Mongtomery."
My mouth drops open as I recall every time I looked at Liam's round, rock-hard ass and felt guilty for even noticing it existed. "I am not sleeping with Liam."
He shakes his head. "Yeah, well… you might as well be."
"Oh my God, think what you want." I bark out a laugh, throw my hands in the air, and walk toward the closet. "It doesn't even matter anymore. I'm leaving for Grand Oaks tonight with the Gators, and I'll make sure all my stuff is gone before I get back."
"Fine," he says like a child who didn't get his way. "You know, you were right. We both knew this would end eventually."
I scoff, pulling my favorite icy blue duffle down from the top shelf, then turn back to him. "Absolutely. I just think I'm more mad it ever started in the first place."
16
Liam
"Roo, let's go! The bus leaves for the runway in thirty minutes!" A questionable thud comes from upstairs as I put my bag by the front door.
"I know! I'm just looking for my neck pillow," she calls back, another bang echoing down the stairwell. "Tess isn't here yet, anyway."
I inhale deeply, grabbing my worn-in Flames hat from the hook by the door. "I know," I mumble to myself, sliding it on. I step back to the landing of the stairs. "Just try not to put any holes in the walls while you're up there, okay?"
Peeking out the side window, I look for any sign of Tess. Admittedly, I'm more anxious than I thought I'd be for the trip. I keep telling myself it's because Ruthie's coming, and that just means another moving part. But deep down, I know it's more than that.
The past few weeks have been hard. Reality’s setting in, and the last firsts have started unfolding for the season—my last first practice, my last first game, the last first time I hear my name echo through the stadium. And Ruthie—God, she just keeps growing up. With her twelfth birthday around the corner, it’s hitting me that my baby’s not a baby anymore.
