Page 99 of Trade Deadline

I want to climb onto the roof and roar in anger over those who have upset him. Those who are supposed to be my fans, and don’t appreciate that Alex actually makes mebetter.

And if I have my way, he’ll be with me until I’m old and gray.

Thirty-One

Alex

The headlightsof Blaine’s Range Rover light up the street as he pulls up in front of my house.

We’re going to Kendrick’s tonight for dinner, so I can meet his wife. After the night at Ethan’s, Kendrick kept to his word about the two of us going over to see if she has any advice for me.

“He’s here; I’ll see you in the morning,” I call out to my brother.

“Have a nice night,” Jacob shouts back from where he’s curled up on the couch.

I pick up my duffel bag from the floor and hightail it out of the house and down the steps to the sidewalk. Snow crunches beneath my feet, and a cold shiver takes over my body when I slip into the passenger seat of Blaine’s car.

He leans over the center console, pressing his lips to mine in a warm kiss. “Hey, baby.”

I melt like butter.

“Hey,” comes out all breathy.

He pulls away from the sidewalk and heads to Lakeview. “Maria’s cooking her famous paella tonight; it’s so fucking good.”

He tells me about Maria—how Kendrick met her in college ten years ago and they’ve been married for six—but all the while, anxiety builds up inside of me.

I’d suggested to Nate that maybe I should delete all forms of social media, but his answer was that I shouldn't remove myself from social media just because some people can’t handle the fact that I’m with Blaine. But I can’t see any other option.

I care so much for him; hell, I’m falling in love with him. I just need to make sure I’m mentally strong enough to deal with what comes with being with someone like Blaine.

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice my internal war, and we pull up in front of a three-story red brick home, surrounded by wrought iron gates. There’s a warm, homely glow seeping from the windows, and my anxiety eases slightly at the sight. Blaine parks his car and takes my hand as we walk up the steps to the front door. He knocks on the black door twice, and moments later the door swings open to reveal a pint-sized woman with bright pink hair.

“Hey! I’m glad you could make it; come in.” She steps aside to let us in.

I wipe my feet on the doormat and toe off my sneakers. She takes our coats and hangs them on a hook.

“You must be Alex.” She opens her arms, and I have to crouch down to hug her. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Adam’s told me all about you.”

I grimace, and she laughs.

“Nothing bad, silly.” She pulls away and leads us through into the kitchen, where Kendrick’s lurking near a pie. “You better not be touching that apple pie, mister.”

Kendrick’s head whips up, guilt written across his features. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

She wags her finger. “It’s meant to be shared. You can’t eat it all.”

Blaine steps behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. Kendrick gets us drinks, and we watch in fascination as the pink-haired pixie whizzes around the kitchen.

As Blaine promised, her chicken and chorizo paella is divine. We talk about the upcoming games and playoff contention, and when we move onto the topic of the trade deadline rumors, Blaine goes tense, but Kendrick waves him off.

“You have nothing to worry about. Coach wouldn’t trade his star forward. I have a feeling it’ll be Petford, or someone like Tait. They’re not really bringing in the points or adding value to the team. Tait is raking up the penalty minutes, and Petford is just an ass.”

But I know Kendrick’s reassuring words won't ease the underlying anxiety Blaine is feeling.

Maria dishes out another one of her staple dishes. “Tarta de manzana,” she announces. “Basically apple pie. My Abuela used to make this every Sunday or for a special event.”

“And it’s my favorite.” Kendrick grins.

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