Page 22 of Reclaiming Kendall

The What If Game

The following week, we're taking a walk around the theater that is in the closing process with the banks. It needs a lot of TLC and more than a little elbow grease to bring it up to code, but if anyone has enough motivation to do it, I know it is Grant. One of the things that I've loved most about it so far is before it went out of business years ago, (the family) had converted part of the building into more of a dramatic theater setup. On one side, there are six different cinema viewing rooms, then on the right, there is a massive drama room complete with the stage, dressing areas, the works.

Mr. Swaggard, the gentleman who is helping close the deal on the building, made rounds with us earlier. He's an older man who has been around for a while, telling us he still remembers when they made all the changes; way back in the early nineties when it fell into some of the younger generation's hands. At the time, it appears to have been a bad idea, but these days, people were more open to art in different varieties.

"It would be really cool if you did some kind of open mic nights, or something of that sort," I tell Grant. Mr. Swaggard followed Maverick and Teagan back towards the front moments ago, leaving Lucas, Grant, and me standing in the back of auditorium with the stage.

He looks lost in thought for a second with pursed lips and everything before he turns to me, "Yeah, that's a good idea. We could even start our own little community drama club or something."

What feels like a light bulb goes off in my head, "You know, that's not a bad idea, either. It would be really cool if we could somehow include the kids from a couple of the group homes around us. Not just for the club, either. The ones that are old enough and doing good in school could always work for us."

Lucas steps against my back and wraps his arms around my waist as he rests a chin on the top of my head, "Sounds perfect. It'll teach them some responsibility and keep them off the street while earning themselves some money."

"You're so fucking smart, sweetheart," Grant says, coming to palm the sides of my face. As he steps into my space from the front, Lucas crowds my back. This will always be one of my favorite places to be. Between them, I feel like I'm home. Like nothing will ever be able to touch me while I'm here. Before his lips even touch mine, a contented sigh has dropped from them.

I've barely gotten a taste of him when there's a throat clearing behind us. I would be alarmed to be caught like this if I didn't recognize the tone of it immediately.

Grant's eyes lift to spot the figure making themselves known over mine and Lucas's shoulder, and he grins.

"It's a good thing I didn't have Swaggard with me. He might've fainted in the middle of the floor after walking in on this," Teagan's voice teases.

I want to think of something witty to retort, but as soon as the guys let me go and we turn to walk towards him, I'm hit with the biggest yawn of my life.

"Or maybe not," he jests, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "It seems your other husbands weren't keeping you well enough entertained, sweets. Wanna have a go with me? We could try out those old seats in one of the movie rooms."

He leans down to blow a raspberry against the side of my neck tickling me in the process with it and his hair.

"As much as I would love to have you eight ways to Sunday right now, there is no way I'm sitting in one of those seats until we get this place cleaned up," I tell him. "There could be spiders, rats, and God only knows what else in there."

"There had better not be any rats." Grant stomps off towards the front likely to confront Mr. Swaggard and make sure there's no rodent infestation.

I snicker against Teagan's chest before lifting my face back to his, "I just got really tired all of a sudden. Like I could lay down and sleep for a week or more."

"Didn't you say that a couple days last week?" Lucas asks, voice burning with concern.

I nod, "Yeah, it's been hitting me out of nowhere. Maybe it's because I got so used to being lazy all day then we came home to a heap of responsibilities, and my body is still trying to catch up."

"I vote we need another vacation," Teagan offers, leading us towards where the others are. We make a pros and cons list while we walk, but I can't help but to notice how quiet Lucas has gone.

Seemingly lost in his head, it surprises me when he twines our fingers together and pulls us to a stop, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you should make an appointment to go see the doctor this week."

Teagan's hold tightens where he hangs on to my hip, "Do you think she's sick?"

Before Lucas can answer, Teagan spins me to face him, and he starts checking my pulse. Then those long fingers are underneath my chin before the back of his hand is pressed against my forehead.

I knock his hand away with a goofy smile, "Would you stop. You're no doctor, and I'm not sick. My body is just still trying to play catch up from the honeymoon."

Casting a quick glance to Lucas who is studying my face, I repeat myself, "I don't feel sick. Just overly tired."

He nods, "I understand, baby, but what would you say if the roles were reversed, and you were in my shoes?"

I roll my eyes towards the ceiling with a huff, because he knows he's got me, "I'd tell you to make the appointment or I will."

Teagan's chuckle rumbles through his chest into mine making it impossible to fight my grin. Lucas caves, too, "So, you'll humor me then?"

"Yes, fine," I concur. "I'll make the appointment first thing in the morning."

"Appointment for what?" Mav asks as he and Grant round the corner to where we're standing.

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