Love In the Red Zone (Connecticut Kings Book 1) (41 page)

“C’mon, baby!” Trent yelled, distressed. “Over here!”

He stayed behind me, pushing my little legs away from the clamorous water behind us. We moved to a cemented shelter aside two shops whose shutters were beating against the buildings, adding to the evidence of the storm’s fury. Trent wasted no time gathering me into his big arms. When he felt I wasn’t close enough, he pulled me onto his lap and folded his long legs around me as I cried quietly. I didn’t want to sob out loud because it wouldn’t have helped Trent’s nerves that I was sure had to be frayed at this point. We sat out there for nearly thirty minutes. Trent rocked me in his arms as I hid my face from the angry storm.

Then suddenly, I heard murmurs in combination with vibrations from his chest against my arm. 

“Thank you, God… Thank you, God…” he repeated over and over again.

It dawned on me that he’d been praying all this time. Of course, he would. Trent was a man of faith. But I hadn’t caught on in my pessimistic panic. Then I felt his abs shake. He was laughing. That’s when I pulled my head from his hold.

“What’s so funny?”

“The sun is coming out, for one.” He nodded in the air, gesturing with his eyes to the silhouette of the yellow light pushing through the gray clouds. “And two, because this is life. My life, your life…just life. You have great days then
boom
, you’re hit with a devastating storm that can take you out of here if you don’t have cover.” Then his eyes rose to the structure ensconcing us. “You have to seek out your covering if you want to see the other side of the storm. God covered me again with this one today—saying my final goodbye to my uncle and showing me this hut in the midst of heavy rain and treacherous winds. This storm just made that clear.” As Trent spoke, his face was placid and eyes almost ghosted, articulating his theory.

It was clear to me this was a defining moment for him, and suddenly, it had become one for me, too.

“I thought we were going to die, but I survived it in your arms,” I murmured breathlessly, surprised by the realization. “It’s the only place I want to be.” My fingers grazed the fine stubble on his jaw. “Your leadership is why we’re still here, unhurt. I want to be under it. Always.”

Trent’s eyes ballooned then narrowed before he cupped my face with his hands, pulling me to his lush mouth for a kiss.

The sky was clear, the amber sun began to fade, and the seagulls cawed as they flew low over the incoming waves of the Atlantic sea. We sat on the back porch, facing the water and breathing in the saltwater air whipping against our faces. My eyes low, partially from the extreme exhaustion of surviving the earlier storm and also from the wine Trent insisted I have when we traversed the beach for almost an hour and ended up on a boardwalk where we found a bar. We both had one drink, quietly with no one recognizing him, or maybe they simply didn’t care. For that, I was grateful. I wanted Trent to relax after this recent undertaking.

Here, back at the house, there were still few people around, no one near the beachfront of the property we stayed in. The debris from the storm dried up all around. It was peaceful, quiet at the end of an emotional stretch of days and what I thought was a near death experience. Despite the beach disaster from earlier, Macen Beach was beautiful. It was low key with privacy, but held the usual energy of a well-attended tropical setting. The houses were vast and picturesque. When we arrived last night, Trent and I held hands on the second floor deck, right off the bedroom we stayed in and enjoyed the sunset. Before the storm, the place was clean and the water the clearest I’d seen of the North American Atlantic. I could see why Shank wanted his remains to rest here.

Shank…

April sat at the other end of the wraparound porch, looking out into the roiling water. I smiled when she found my eyes, grateful she still wore that balm of tranquility around her.

“He sleep?” she asked, in amused disbelief.

I glanced down to my lap where Trent stood hunched over. His long thick arms encased my waist, his face pushed flat against my belly with only enough room to breathe. Sure enough, his eyes were closed and lips parted with soft snores escaping his mouth.

I nodded, wearing a big smile.

“Standing up?” She gasped.

He was. What started out as Trent being affectionate and hugging my waist while I sat on the ledge of the banister with my back resting against the beach house, turned out to be his napping position. I rubbed the back of his head, happy he was finally resting. Trent tried hiding his stress and worry from me, but I could see right through the deceptive front. As a child, he trained himself not to complain and to brave every adversity alone. But as Ezra preached a few weeks back, there are some storms a man isn’t supposed to endure alone. We all need someone; a couple of hours ago was demonstration of that for me. I had wished to be that someone he trusted one day. I wanted to earn it.

Instead, he traveled back and forth from Alpine to Camden every day since returning from Denver. He constantly checked in with April to be sure there was money to cover all of Shank’s final wishes. He did this against having his mother shoot her usual negative energy or blatant neglect his way. And then there was something with Trick. He hardly spoke to Trent. He didn’t even act as pallbearer, leaving it to Trent and Shank’s other nephews. I overheard him complaining to Cora Mae about not feeling included as I walked past them coming from the bathroom during the repast, but decided to not mention it to Trent. He had enough to shoulder. His fan base for one.

There had been media reports about Trent having left the
Kings
because he wasn’t in practice. How would they know that? Someone—a hating someone—from the inside would have had to start that. I didn’t understand because the
Kings
knew where Trent was and had even supported him. And all of the bloggers ran with that speculation. It pissed me off so bad, I texted Elle, Trent’s PR rep, last night after he’d fallen asleep to ask if she could do something. She tweeted from his account a message, thanking his team for their support during his time of loss, but didn’t specify who’d died. I’d learned early on that Trent didn’t discuss his personal life. But a part of me wondered if in this case he kept quiet because of the nature of his uncle’s death. Either way, it was his right.

Elle also sent out a message from his Instagram account. I stopped reading after the seventh comment: there were hundreds of them, many bashing him for being a quitter.  The man couldn’t even mourn without critics, which is why I fought to keep the energy around him quiet. Nate Richardson requested additional body guards to fly down here to Macen Beach, South Carolina with us. I declined, explaining Trent asked Tyheem to come—
for some reason
—and that would be enough. Trent didn’t need added hype around him. He only needed his aunt. And…apparently me. When he asked if I was coming it was as though he asked out of courtesy. Maybe he thought I’d be offended if he didn’t ask—and I would have—but I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. I’d already made arrangements for Kyree to be with my mother for these two days we were due to be down here.

I mean… If it were me mourning, I would want Trent by my side and no one else.

“You know what Shank said the day before he went over?” April’s flat tone caught my attention. I glanced her way to find her staring at the water. “He said, Trent gon’ marry that girl. And she gon’ be mad ‘cause he gon’ want a whole bunch of babies. That girl ain’t tryna mess up her figure, pushing out a bunch of babies for his big ass.” The comedy in the tale was striking, but even more was her deadpan expression. I didn’t know how to take that.

Then she looked at me, still expressionless. All I could offer in return was a wry smile. I didn’t believe Trent would be thinking of a wife and kids anytime soon. He had so much to prove on the field. He’d said so himself. Trent was an entirely different man now, being back in the league, than he was when I met him as an unemployed former NFL’er.

“Yeah,” I sighed, rubbing Trent’s back, butterflies taking flight at the fantasy. “Now that Shank’s with God, he can propose that miracle to the Miracle-maker Himself.”

We were a ways from that. He didn’t even trust me.

“Huh!” she scoffed, fixated on the water. “You better get him in the bed. He’s tired and gotta go right back to work.”

“Yup. First thing in the morning,” I agreed, thinking about all the deliveries I had coming and the expenses of the ones I delayed these past few days. I didn’t even get a chance to catch him up with the most recent renovations.  “Trent…” I tugged at him. “Baby, you need to get up and lay down.”

“I am laying down,” he whined against my stomach, tightening his arms around me.

“No. In a bed. You’re going to cramp.”

“Quit, Jade,” he growled. “I’m good.”

“No, you ain’t, boy!” April joined the fight, thankfully on my side. “You gon’ be in that position for the next few days if you stay like that a moment more.”

On a long angry and animalistic groan, Trent withdrew his arms and pivoted. A shriek ripped from my lungs when he lifted me from the banister and cradled me in his arms.

“A’ight, but you comin’ with.”

I giggled like a kid being tickled all the way inside the house and up to the bedroom.

“Trent…
tiiiin
!” she muffled her cries into the sheets.

God, I loved when she busted and called me by my first name. It was the only mouth that it agreed with when it was spoken. It made me feel official in my birthright, something I never had. And she clenched
so tight
as she milked all around me. Her walls trembling and her shoulders rattling. To reward her, I pumped harder, thrust deeper to intensify her lift off. My grip on her hair tightened and the fat of her peach wiggled, straining as she came hard, lying on her stomach. Jade’s body shook underneath me, the sweat from our work making it difficult for me to hold her juddering legs together. I liked torturing her like that when she came. Holding her while she exploded messed with her head, changed the intensity of her flight. I plowed into her until she stilled, but stayed on her back, my dick still buried inside her. We lay there panting in the dark as I showered her shoulders with kisses.

“You came?” she asked, trying to look over her shoulder.

“A long time ago.”

“How are you able to do that?” she breathed, amazement in her tone.

“When I have a sex fiend like you who needs it all the time and quality”—I thrust into her, earning a deep moan—“you gotta have the talent to keep up by lasting long. I learned that our first time.”