Page 111 of Play Along

“My mom died in a storm like this one,” he admits.

Shit.

“It was raining so hard she probably couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her. A car hydroplaned on the road, and my mom, she swerved to avoid them and ended up getting her car wrapped around a tree. I was thirteen years old when it happened, and it was still storming outside my windows when Kai came into my room and told me.”

“Isaiah—”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Kenny.” His tone is desperate, as if he needs to be fixed and I could be the one to do it. “It’s been eighteen years and every time the weather is like this, I can’t calm myself down. Every worst-case scenario runs through my mind, and I can’t relax until I hear from every single person I care about.” His fingers continue to toy with his mom’s ring on my finger, his face pained. “My skin gets hot and the way I breathe...” He taps his chest. “It’s not normal.”

“Anxiety is normal, Isaiah. You experienced the worst thing imaginable when you were only thirteen years old. If that didn’t affect you, then—”

“It was the worst day of my life, but I’m not typically like this, I promise.”

His words are pleading for me to not think of him any differently, but this version of Isaiah, vulnerable and honest... it is different. It’s the most attractive he’s ever been to me.

Human. Real. A man who cares so much about other people that he has anxiety attacks at the mere thought he could lose someone else.

“Did you ever go see a therapist about this? Or someone else you could talk to?”

He huffs a forced laugh. “You think I could afford therapy after it happened? I could barely afford to eat.”

“What about Kai? Could you talk to him?”

“He had it worse than me. He lost her too and he still had to take care of me. I wasn’t about to put my shit on him.”

My throat tightens. Because he was once just a kid who lost his mom. Who didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Who didn’t have food to eat because his dad left him too, and my eyes burn when I think about all the times Isaiah has adamantly fed me.

Miller filled me in. After their mom died, their dad went down a bad path and never came back for his boys even once he cleaned himself up. It was just the two of them, getting each other through life.

From an outsider’s point of view, you’d think Kai was the one who had the burden on his shoulders, getting his younger brother through their teenage years. But what about Isaiah? Knowing their dynamic, I would imagine he took on the burden of making his brother laugh, even when Isaiah was heartbroken. Even when he didn’t want to smile himself, he probably did so for Kai. Wanted to convince him he was okay. That they’d both be okay.

Under the blanket, Isaiah runs his palm down my forearm and over my shoulder until it settles on my waist. “Thinking about that day is the only thing that makes me this way.”

“And you’re allowed to feel those moments. You don’t have to be on 24/7.”

I scoot closer to him until his hand wraps around my lower back and his feet touch mine. My sleep shirt has ridden up, and Isaiah uses the opportunity to circle the pads of his fingertips against my skin.

I’ve never done this. Intimately spoken in the dark, but for some reason, nothing about it feels foreign with him.

“Please, Ken.” He squeezes me, his desperation evident. “Don’t think any differently of me.”

“But what if I want to?”

I’m met with utter confusion.

But the only one of us who should be concerned if my opinion on Isaiah Rhodes has changed is me. Because I think I might like what I see.

I bring my body closer to him until we’re chest to chest, his arm fully surrounding me, our legs tangled, and his lips ghosting my forehead.

Why doesn’t this freak me out? Why doesn’t this feel unnatural?

The scariest thing about this is that it feels so right.

“The day you and I met.” His words are soft against my skin as he speaks. “I was hiding in the women’s restroom because that was the same date my mom died. I was having a bad day, and I didn’t want anyone to see me like that. I’m always having a bad day on that date, but for the first time in a long time, while I was talking to you, I felt this spark of genuine joy that I couldn’t ignore. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have to fake it. So, it’s your fault, Kenny. You’re the reason I’ve been hooked from day one.”

My throat feels small. My nose and eyes prick with heat.

I’ve been a bargaining piece. A second-choice fiancée and even an unwanted employee, but I’ve never been someone’s joy.

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