Kicked (27 page)

The door swung inward, and a man who looked a lot like my father but with brighter eyes, a clean-shaven face, and a bigger smile welcomed us in.

“Daddy?” I knew my eyes had become comically wide, but I couldn’t believe the transformation.

“Come on in out of the cold.” He shooed us in, and the smell of roasted turkey and something sweet filled the air. Mrs. Trapper bustled around the kitchen, a worn calico apron tied around her waist.

Dad shook hands with Trent. “Cordy told me what you did for me. I thank you, and I’ll pay you back just as soon as the coal company comes through with my severance.”

“Please don’t.” He ran a hand through my hair and rested his palm at the small of my back. “If it makes Cordy happy, then it’s money well spent as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s mighty kind of you, son.” Dad clapped him on the arm. “I can at least offer you some good vittles. Mrs. Trapper is cooking up a storm, and we’re in for some tasty eats.”

My vision blurred as I stared at my dad. He looked like he did in old pictures I’d seen of him. Like the ones of him in the shotgun wedding ceremony with my mother. My grandfather—literally—had been holding a shotgun in the photo.

“Is something on my face?” He rubbed his smooth cheek, and I was certain he knew what a big change this was.

“You look so good.” I hugged him and sniffled as tears tried to overtake me. The soft flannel of his shirt brought back so many warm memories that I squeezed him even harder.

He patted my back. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I was afraid of this. Don’t be upset.”

I pulled back and stared into his clear, light brown eyes. “You’re back. You’re really here.”

“It hasn’t been easy.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I want a drink so bad it hurts, but then I kept thinking about this.” He patted my cheek. “About making you proud of me. That’s the only thing that kept me away from a bottle. You.” He turned to Trent. “And now you. The both of you.”

Trent smiled, genuine pleasure showing in his eyes. “Thanks for having me. I was afraid I’d miss turkey this year since I didn’t really have any Thanksgiving invites. Mom decided to spend the holiday in the Bahamas.”

Trent looked like a giant in the small two-bedroom, one-bath home. The ceilings were only seven feet high, so Trent was in grave danger of knocking his head on the light fixtures if he wasn’t careful.

Dad scratched his temple. “Cordy mentioned your mom’s a tough nut to crack.”

“She is.” Trent’s smile faded. “Things are difficult at the moment.”

“Going to get better.” I may have said it a little too brightly.

Trent raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Right. They will. In any case, I can’t wait to try Mrs. Trapper’s cooking. Thanks again for the invite, Mr. Baxter.”

“Oh, don’t call me that. Nobody calls me that except the cops when I’m in the drunk tank.”

Oh my God.
I put my hands to my face, but the embarrassment didn’t abate.

“Kick your shoes off and stay a while.” Dad motioned at us, and we handed him our coats. The house didn’t have a coat closet, so he just draped them over the back of his worn recliner.

“And just call me Clarence or Dad if you want. No formalities needed around these parts.”

Trent nodded in thanks. “That’s very kind of you.”

My dad cleared his throat and glanced to the kitchen. “Well, that’s enough nonsense. You two have a seat at the table. I think the food’s almost ready.”

We walked the few steps through the door into the kitchen and dining area. Mrs. Trapper had laid out a beautiful turkey, stuffing, and plates of vegetables.

She hugged me, pressing me to her with her wrists since her hands still had flour on them. “Welcome home. Sweet tea’s already on the table. I’m just waiting on the pumpkin pie to come out of the oven.” Trent got the same treatment, with an added kiss on the cheek.

We edged around the table, skirting the window that looked out onto the small side yard, and took our seats. Dad didn’t sit at the head of the table. He never had, as far back as I could remember. He’d always sat across from me and asked about my day, what was going on in school, what my dreams were.

Today was no different.

“So, are we going to bring home the championship?” He sipped his tea and looked at Trent with hopeful eyes.

“Well, it’s hard to say.” Trent leaned back, the antique spindle chair creaking under his weight. “Unless the Gators have a particularly strong showing in their division championship, we’ll likely be ranked at number four and have a playoff berth.”

“Them Eagles are going to be number one. I can feel it.” Dad scowled.

“Good. I want to play them.” I grabbed the roll of paper towels and handed them out as Mrs. Trapper sat down next to my father. “Sooner rather than later.”

“That’s my girl.” Dad tucked his paper towel into his shirt.

Mrs. Trapper laughed.

“Oh, you love it.”

She shook her head, then jumped, her cheeks turning red. I suspected Dad had goosed her under the table, but I didn’t want to go anywhere near that thought.

Dad said a brief, and only slightly profane, prayer, and we all dug in.

“So, Trent, tell me about your family.” Mrs. Trapper heaped a second helping of potatoes onto his plate.

I marveled at his ability to put away food and turn it into muscle. Jealousy was far too mild a word.

“We’re originally from New York State, but there’s a family tradition of going to school at Billingsley. My dad loved it so much, he built a home only about an hour away from campus. That’s where I spent my summers when I was growing up.”

“I thought your accent was a little too clipped to be from the south.” She poured a healthy serving of gravy on top of his potatoes.

“Right. Anyway, my father played for the Bobcats, so I was raised a Bobcat through and through.”

“I can’t tell you how proud I was when my Cordy told me she was going to college, and Billingsley at that.” Dad beamed, and my heart melted even more. “I’m sure your dad feels the same.”

I almost choked on my roll. “Dad, let’s not talk about—”

“No, it’s okay.” Trent set his fork down. “My dad passed in July.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Dad bowed his head.

“It’s fine. I had so many great years with him. He had a rare form of leukemia. And you’re right. He was extremely proud when I chose Billingsley, and even prouder when I became the starting quarterback last year.”

“He should be.” Dad recovered. “Any talk about the NFL?”

“Some.” Trent began to eat again. “Nothing for certain yet.”

“I hear those scouts go to practices almost constantly. Is that right?”

“I’ve seen quite a few.” I glanced at Trent. We hadn’t really discussed what would happen after the spring. He’d graduate, of course, but what then? I supposed I couldn’t make any demands on him, especially considering I was too chicken to tell him I loved him. Even so, the thought of him leaving spoiled my appetite.

“Well, I’ve seen you and Cordy play every game. They even let me hog the TV at the facility, so I got to watch every weekend. I don’t know much about the draft, but the announcers seem to. They think you’ll go in the first two rounds.” Dad raised his glass and tipped it toward Trent. “Good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”

My unease at the thought of being separated from Trent grew. Mrs. Trapper seemed to notice, because she changed the subject to the upcoming winter festival.

After we each had a slice of her pumpkin pie, we settled into the living room and caught up some more. Dad was full of coal mine gossip, and Mrs. Trapper seemed content to just listen to his stories. They were a handsome couple, and I was happy that Dad had finally found someone to spend time with. That she was someone I trusted to take care of him and keep him on the straight and narrow? Even better.

The day eventually waned, and Trent and I said our goodbyes. Mrs. Trapper loaded us down with leftovers, and we hugged our way out the door.

“Keep it up, Dad.” I kissed his wrinkled cheek. “I’ve never been more proud.”

“Thanks, honey. I’ll be watching for that playoff spot.”

“I hope we get it.”

“You will, and you’ll show them Eagles a thing or two about heart.” He kissed my hair and I stepped back, the frigid, smoke-scented air swirling around us as the sun set behind the hills.

“We’ll be seeing you at Christmas, right?” Mrs. Trapper drew her white shawl closer around her shoulders as she stood in the doorway.

“Of course.” Trent placed his hand on my waist. “My dad always loved Christmas, so I want to celebrate it big for him this year.”

His certainty, the ease with which he spoke to my dad, the way he complimented Mrs. Trapper’s cooking—everything about him made the words “I love you” dance along the tip of my tongue. But it remained trapped there instead of awkwardly blurted.

Dad smiled and hustled Mrs. Trapper back into the cozy house. “Looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Now get on in the car before you two catch your deaths of cold.” He waved as we walked down the front steps. Trent opened my door for me, as always. We drove down the pothole-filled road that led out of our small hollow and back onto the main highway.

“Was that okay? Did you like the food? What about my dad? I’m sorry he asked about your dad. That must have been hard. I’m sorry the house is so small. But it’s sort of—”

“Cordy, take a breath.” He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. “It was perfect. I was with you. I wouldn’t have cared where we spent the day, as long as we were together. And the house was perfectly fine. Your dad and Mrs. Trapper were great company.”

“Thank you. I l—” I took a deep breath but I couldn’t stop myself. My emotions were like a volcano inside me, the top blown off and everything rising to the surface. “Trent, I love you.”

I screamed as the car swerved off the road and onto the gravel shoulder almost a hundred yards back from the ramp to the highway.

“What? Was there a deer?” I turned and looked out the back window.

“Cordy.” Trent put his hands on my cheeks and pulled my face to his. His eyebrows were drawn together as if he were concentrating. “Can you repeat that?”

“Oh.” I wrapped my fingers around his forearms as a smile took over my lips. “I said I love you.”

He closed his eyes and smiled as if the sound was sweet. “Say it one more time. I just want to make sure.”

I laughed, joy rushing through my veins. “I love you.”

He kissed me with an exuberance that made my heart beat double time. I was so afraid to give him those words that when I finally did, his response was all-consuming. In that one kiss, he gave me all of him, but still managed to take my breath away.

He pulled away. “Get in the back seat.”

I blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I want to seal the deal.”

I laughed. “We aren’t married. You don’t have to consummate.”

He kissed me again, more urgently this time. “With you, I do. I’ve waited for so long, wanting you this whole time. I need to feel you. Backseat. Now.”

That tone—it was like his desire for me made him regress to the mean, as if he were a more primal version of himself. It turned me on to an alarming degree.

He jumped out of the car, and I tentatively opened my door. He ran around and pulled it all the way open, helped me out, and then eased me into the backseat. Walking back around to his side, he slid in next to me and tangled a hand in my hair.

“I’ll never want anything the way I’ve wanted you.” His kiss seared down to my soul, and his hands were rough in my hair and along my body.

He leaned me back, pressing his chest against my breasts, and sending tingles of pleasure shooting through me. Pulling my hair, he angled my head so he could deepen our kiss, and his tongue alone was erotic enough for me to press my thighs together to keep the ache at bay.

I slid my hand down to his pants and caressed his thick shaft through his pants. He groaned into my mouth. The more I stroked him, the more I wanted him inside me.

He seemed to read my mind and hitched my sweater up, yanking it over my head and tossing it to the floorboard. Pulling my bra cups down, he fastened his mouth around one of my nipples.

He licked until I was panting, and the windows fogged up. He leaned back and picked at the waistband of my leggings. “Are these pants or what? Doesn’t matter. I want them off.” He grabbed one of my boots and pulled it free while I did the other. In a few moments, I was bare from the waist down.

His hands went to his pants, but I pushed them away.

“Let me.” I unbuckled his belt, undid the button, and unzipped the fly. He ran his fingers up my thigh and slid them through my slick folds. I bit my lip as he began to rub my clit in small circles. I shoved his pants and shorts down his hips, and his cock sprang free. I bent over and licked the underside of his shaft.

“I need you.” He pulled me up and lifted me so I straddled him. Face to face. “I want you to get off on my cock.” Reaching between us, he rubbed his cock head against me and positioned himself at my entrance.

I sat down on him slowly, impaling myself until I shook from the sheer pleasure. He cupped my breasts and pressed them together, sucking my nipples as I began to ride him. Headlights passed, but I didn’t care. He was all I could think about, and how good he made me feel.

“That’s it.” He groaned as I leaned forward, pressing my breasts into his face. His hands went to my ass and squeezed as he rocked his hips up to meet me.

I bore down harder on him.

“Grind that pussy on me.” He gripped my hips tighter and pressed me down.

“Trent.” I pulled his head back and took his mouth as I rode up and down on his cock, my clit getting perfect friction against him with each of his thrusts.

He rubbed his tongue against mine at the same tempo, our bodies completely entwined with each other as he pushed me toward my orgasm.

My legs began to shake, but he only gripped me harder, forcing me to enjoy every little point of contact. He kissed to my neck, then ran his teeth along my shoulder. I pressed down on him, working the thick length in every pleasurable way imaginable. My breath caught in my throat as tension built in the pit of my stomach. I was a slave to my hips. They ground on his cock until I came, repeating his name on a low moan. I couldn’t stop the rolling waves of pleasure, and he bit my shoulder as he thrust up hard. His cock kicked and filled me as I took his grunts and groans with a steady kiss.