Once I left on tour it would be even worse. A pit knotted in my stomach that had just been filled with excitement over seeing him again. Time would stretch into weeks, if not months apart, and thinking about getting up on stage was enough to bring on the watery-mouth feeling that proceeded every performance.
Sprinkling flour on the counter, I used a spatula to smooth out the generous heaps of cinnamon sugar filling. It brought back all those feelings from home, both Greenwood and Glendale, where we’d lived before. I remembered my dad trying to steal another finger scoop of icing before my mom smacked his hand away.
Those were the happy memories I poured into baking, memories of home and family. Rolling and slicing the dough, I set the cinnamon rolls in the pan and slid them into the oven.
Maybe I’d have Holden find me a kitchen more often, so I could bake for Keyton. Could I overnight deliver them to him while we were apart? The tabloids would smack me with the overly attached girlfriend moniker, if they ever found out. That sobered me up some. Once more people found out, the magnifying glass would swoop down over us, dissecting every bit of our lives. Every smile to a fan from both of us would be splashed up with giant headlines dripping with innuendo.
As much as I feared it, I didn’t want to hide what he meant to me. I didn’t want to pretend Keyton wasn’t in my life. I wanted to announce it on mic or call a press conference to let everyone know, but it was a complication I’d be adding to his life, unfairly foisting it on him.
The next time we had a stretch of time together, I could make them in his apartment, leaving the lingering smell of them in his place, like I was trying to imprint myself on him even when I wasn’t there. It could shrink that distance between us even when we were oceans apart.
Holden or Emily poked their heads in every so often, probably trying to make sure I hadn’t set the place on fire.
The smells wafting from the oven intensified. I closed my eyes, envisioning my life as it had been. In my mind, Keyton and I were together, and I pulled these out of the oven after a day of song-writing and working in our home studio. He’d come back from practice all sweaty and tired, only to perk up and sneak into the kitchen to steal a cinnamon roll without me seeing.
It was crazy how dreams could change, and even crazier how they could feel so unattainable all the same.
25
Keyton
I adjusted my travel game backpack, falling in line with the rest of the guys walking through the terminal. Seventy guys walking through the terminal to baggage claim weren’t exactly inconspicuous, but the sparse early morning crowd kept stops for autographs and pictures to a minimum. All I wanted to do was get to Bay, to see her, hold her, kiss her. My steps quickened, and I was at the head of the pack on the way to baggage claim.
Berk and LJ were already on their phones to Jules and Marisa. Reece had taken off sprinting the second the doors opened. With Seph being pregnant, he’d gotten more anxious about being away.
As happy as I was for him, it freaked me out to know a baby would be around. A tiny little person, so small and vulnerable. Someone I knew I’d care about instantly because of who their parents were, and fear all the bad shit that could happen in their life.
It wasn’t to say I ran screaming from the room any kid entered, but it was much easier to work with the foundation and handle the higher-level things, knowing it would help the kids, than to sit down one-on-one with them. I wasn’t there yet. All I could think about when I looked at them was me growing up.
I remembered the chaotic, chilling uncertainty of never finding solid footing anywhere off the football field and always waiting for the next rollercoaster drop. My friends were breezing through life with each other, always looking ready to float away on a cloud. To me, having a child would feel like being dropped in the middle of the ocean during a hurricane without a life raft.
But the clock was ticking on the safe arrival of Reece’s little guy or girl. I had a little over seven months to shake my fear of crushing a tiny baby I could fit in the palm of my hand.
The whole kid thing would be a long way off for me. Even if Bay and I made the big decision to give us a go, her schedule was so insane that kids wouldn’t be in our future until years down the line. There was still time to work through my shit and get my head on straight. Maybe someday, I could be a good dad, but today wasn’t that day.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out.
Bay: Landed yet?
I cracked a smile, loving her checking in on me. Our text conversations stretched late into the night until one of us stopped responding only to wake up with the phone stuck to the side of our face.
Me: Walking toward baggage claim
Bay: Perfect. I have a surprise for you
Me: What’s the surprise?
Maybe we’d have another full day together. Or she’d figured something out for Christmas. I loved making plans with her. Even as the gaps in our schedules narrowed, looking forward to the hours I could spend with her made it worth it.
No response to my text. Knowing her, she’d been pulled away by Holden. From time to time I wanted to lock him in a closet and snap his tablet in half, but he was only doing his job. The one Bay wanted him to do.
Our team duffel bags slid onto the baggage claim conveyor belt at a tired turtle pace. The name tags or colored tape on the handles were the only differences between all of them.
The chartered flight had been quiet, most of the guys still drained from the game and any celebrating they’d done after. I’d been tempted to call Gwen and pay my own way to come back to town early, but Bay had a full schedule and I didn’t want to pressure her into ditching responsibilities or loading up her schedule for the next time I was away to steal time with me.
These road games felt longer than before. Every day away from the city, away from Bay, felt too long.
There was always a ticking clock over our time together. First, it had been to graduation back in Greenwood, then the end of training camp in LA. Now, the start of her tour in a few weeks hung over us. The urgency to cement what we had before she left was nearly insurmountable. I didn’t want to leave a dangling thread between us so thin it could be severed again.
My bag with the DK on the tag rolled around. I grabbed it off the belt at the same time a hand wrapped around my elbow, squeezing. The initial snap of muscle tenseness took hold. Instead of following through, I took a beat and relaxed. Probably an eager fan.
Turning, I got one look at who I’d expected to be a fan and stumbled, falling backward onto the belt and staring at the surprise right in front of me—well, a little to the left of me—as I slid along with the rest of the team gear. The stunned silence was broken. This place was full of people. “TNG?”
In a hat, sunglasses and a sweatshirt like our first excursion out to IKEA, Bay was here, picking me up from the airport. She laughed and did a little jazz hands move. “Surprise.”
Scrambling up, my heart kicked into overdrive. I wrapped her in my arms, hugging her tight.
“What the hell are you doing here?” My grin was cheek-spraining wide. Sheer joy ripped straight through me.
Her hat fell off her head, flopping to the floor behind her.
I buried my face in her hair, breathing her in.
“What? I can’t pick my guy up from the airport?”