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He growls. “You’re baiting me. But I’ll tell you anyway. You, Livy Morgan, are strong, smart, and sexy as fuck. You hold your own with me, call me on my shit, and challenge me to be a better man. You want me. The me who is ornery, broken, and completely unmanageable. You aren’t about my money, my last name, or what my family can do for you. I plan to give you the world, Pix, despite the fact that you’d never ask for it. Hell, you wouldn’t agree to bathing suits. I hope you never go back there. And for only one reason, it would mean that you gave up on me. And I won’t let that happen.”
He looks over my head and makes a confused face. “I managed to lose your behemoth of a dog.”
We push open the French doors into the warm September day. “Kyle? Kyle.”
We find him on the second step of the pool, cooling his body in the water.
“It could be worse,” I start, biting my lip.
“He could be long-haired,” Layton finishes my thought.
“Well, I’d say he’s made himself at home.”
“Good.”
Brighton:I should’ve checked Kyle while y’all were here yesterday. Can I come by tomorrow and look at his incision? Should be time to remove those stitches if it’s healing well.
Me:Come on. And bring your suit. We spend half the day in the pool.
Brighton:Perfect. Tell Layton I’m bringing the Jeep. He promised me a top down, doors off drive. I haven’t forgotten.
Me:Will do. See you tomorrow.
We don’t watch the game that night. We haven’t watched a single one since I arrived in Texas. We do spend the evening on the back patio once the sun goes down. I read on my tablet while he texts someone from his phone.
We end the night—our first together—tangled up in each other, drifting in and out of sleep, as Kyle’s light snores lull us.
“Tell me a secret, Pix.” Layton mumbles into my hair as he pulls me deeper into his body.
I don’t know if he’s awake when I offer my answer. “Our life feels too easy. It scares me... like I’ll wake up and discover it’s all been just a dream.”
* * *
Layton
The off-season has always meant rise and grind for me. Maybe a day here or there when I took a day off or went light on myself but I could never allow myself to have an on-season life and an off-season one. Getting into shape was and is way harder than staying in shape.
I’m learning that lesson all over again. Fat and sloppy? No. Weak and out of shape? Most certainly yes.
My nutrition is nonexistent. I’ve eaten enough to keep the meds down and my family off my back. My nutrient-dense, high-protein, nutritionist-planned and portioned diet is so far in the rearview that I can’t imagine eating that much or that often at all.
But I know someone who can help.
Me:Do you do Zoom or some kind of online sessions?
Mrs. Turner:For you? Of course.
Me:I’d ask you to come by, but I’m out of state.
Mrs. Turner:I figured when I heard about your retirement.
Me:I may have another client for you, too, with different goals.
Mrs. Turner:I’ll send some appointment options. Choose the one(s) that work best.
Me:Will do. Thanks!
“You’ve been on your phone quite a bit.” Livy wanders into the kitchen. She carries a used tea cup and her yoga mat. “I forgot to tell you… your sister is coming by today to check on Kyle. She also said you owe her a Jeep ride. Whatever that means.”
