Play Along (Windy City Series Book 4)

The door swings open in one frantic, swift move.

Kennedy’s eyes are wide, her breathing heavy.

“What’s wrong?” I quickly ask. I take a step into her apartment, and she instantly retracts, maintaining distance. “What’s going on?”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Are you going to explore free agency when the season is done? Or ask for a trade? Or whatever the hell they’re talking about?”

Fuck.

My wide eyes mirror hers, my lips parting without words to say.

“Oh my God.” A single trembling hand covers her mouth. “It’s true.”

“Where did you hear that?” Pulling my phone out from my back pocket, I find countless missed calls and texts. From her, my brother, and my teammates. “Shit.”

“It was on the TV. They were discussing trade rumors and your name came up.”

Closing my eyes, I exhale a long breath. “My fucking agent doesn’t know how to keep his goddamn mouth shut.”

I called him only yesterday about the possibility of me joining free agency next season if the right offer came along.

But he also knows he’s going to get a massive payout from the next contract I sign, and he couldn’t keep that news to himself for even twenty-four fucking hours.

Dropping the manila envelope I brought with me onto her entryway table, I attempt to step into her space again. “Ken—”

She flinches. “Don’t touch me.”

My stomach dips with those words, with the way she reacted. It cements me in place.

This is going to be so much harder than I pictured. She’s the one who lied about the job offer and now suddenly, she thinks she can’t trust me. “I wanted to be the one to tell you, to explain it to you.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

What the actual fuck?

“What did you just say?”

“Are you wanting to leave Chicago because of me? I know this was only supposed to be temporary and I was the one who was supposed to leave, so if you’re doing this because you don’t want to be with me—”

“There’s no way in hell you’re questioning whether I want to be with you. No fucking way.”

“I just—”

“Don’t even think about trying to justify some ludicrous situation about me running away from you. I don’t want to hear it. I love you. You know I love you. I will continue to love you whether you’re in San Francisco or some other city. That’s not going to change, but you’re sure as hell not staying in Chicago, Kennedy.”

She stands there, stunned speechless. Kissable lips parted in confusion.

“I’m not going to San Francisco. I didn’t get . . . What are you talking about?”

“Yes, you did!” I toss my hands up. “I know when they called you, they offered you the job, and you turned them down. But you’re going. I can’t let you stay here because of me.”

Nervous eyes bounce over me. “How . . . how did you find out?”

My shoulders slump at her admission, my breath leaving me in a whoosh.

So it is true.

“Dean.”

“Goddammit, Dean.” Eyes closing in frustration, she begins to pace the room. “I thought his conversation with you would last two minutes. I thought he’d be completely disingenuous, and you two would go back to hating each other soon after. I never would’ve told him if I knew he was going to tell you.”

“And thank God he did! What are you thinking, Kennedy?”

“I’m thinking that I don’t want to go! Okay? I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this.”

“You’re damn straight I’m going to react like this! I’m not going to let you throw away everything you’ve worked for without even thinking it over.” Stepping into her, I take her face in both my hands, not allowing her to be hesitant of my touch. “Kenny, since the day I met you, this is the one thing you’ve wanted. That first conversation we had, you asked for my advice on whether you should take the job in Chicago. Well, I’m giving you that same advice now. Take the goddamn job.”

Her expression softens, as if my words are finally sinking in and reminding her of who she is and what she’s worked for.

I run a thumb over her cheekbone. “You can’t stay here, baby.”

“And why not?”

“Because you’re worth more than how you’ve been treated the last three years, and I love you enough to make sure you know that. I love you enough to make sure you start living up to your potential.”

I watch the way her eyes bounce between mine, cataloging every shitty thing that Dr. Fredrick has done or said to her over the years.

I watch the realization dawn.

Watch the acceptance take over.

It’s both relieving and devastating to see.

“You have to take that job, Kenny. I don’t think I could live with myself if you didn’t.”

Dropping my hands from her, I take a step back, giving her space to think clearly without me interfering.

“Everything between us changed so quickly.” For her, I want to add. Not for me. I’ve always known how I felt about her. “You’re a planner, but you didn’t plan this. And I need you to take a moment to think about it. Really think about it. Think about us.”

Her eyes are beginning to gloss over, my sometimes-cold girl who is so fucking warm with me.

But I can guarantee what I’m about to say is a thousand times more painful for me to get out than it will be for her to hear. They’re words I never thought I’d catch myself saying.

“When we started this game, it was for this exact ending. We got there. The game is over, but I haven’t been playing for a long time. This is real to me. I love you. You’re the person I want to be with for the rest of my life, but I know that night in Vegas, you didn’t mean to choose me.” My throat goes tight with the admission. “Then the game changed, and it was all about you feeling ready for what came next. It was never supposed to be me, Ken. You never wanted it to be me, and that’s okay.”

“That’s not true anymore.” The first tear falls down her freckled cheek, and I mirror her with one of my own.

“I don’t want to trap you,” I continue.

“You’re not!”

“Kennedy,” I exhale calmly. “You have never gotten to choose your person. Not with him, and not with me. I need you to have a choice.”

I grab the envelope off the table.

Her eyes track it before finally she asks, “What is that?”

“You know what this is.”

“Isaiah—”

I offer the manila envelope to her, but she refuses to take it.

“I need you to have an out. This was always the plan, and I won’t hold it against you if you sign them. You never wanted to be married to me in the first place. I need you to understand that whatever you want to happen next, you have that option. If you want to go to San Francisco by yourself and start the life you’ve been so excited for, sign these. If you go and you want us to stay together, great. I’ll happily deal with the distance. And if you want to go and you want me to come with you, I will try my fucking hardest to make that happen. That’s why these trade rumors are going around. I called my agent to tell him I’d be open to an offer from San Francisco next season if that’s what you wanted. But I’d only go where you are and only if you wanted me there.”

Tears are fully streaming down her face now.

“You’ve never gotten a say in your own life, and the last thing I’m going to do is take that away from you again. Every option is yours, Kenny. Whatever you want to do, I will be your biggest supporter. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t allow you the space to fulfill your goals, to live up to everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

Her bottom lip is trembling through the tears, and when I step into her space again, she meets me partway, pulling at my shirt to bring me down to her level.

She kisses me. And I mean, she kisses me.

Deeply, and with everything she’s got. Either as a thank you or as a goodbye, I’m not sure, but the idea that it could be the latter has my fear speaking for me, unable to hear her decision in this exact moment.

“Take the weekend,” I whisper against her lips.

She shakes her head no.

“Please, Ken,” I plead. “Play along one more time for me. Take the weekend.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, but you need to.”

She hesitates, using the back of her hands to clean her face before she offers the slightest nod of her head.

Every part of me is screaming to remind her that I love her once again, but the last time I told her that before a big decision, she based that decision on me.

This time, I need her to choose for herself.

It’s what has me pressing my lips to hers one more time before leaving the divorce papers on the table and closing the door behind me when I leave.