His To Breed

Chapter 3

~ Trinity ~

By the time Kevin pulls into the small parking lot outside my apartment building, the dashboard clock has just slipped past nine. The date has been almost painfully ordinary, dinner at the little Italian place near the river, a slow walk afterward, easy conversation about books, terrible coffee and a family of ducks that somehow managed to stop traffic. Ordinary should feel comforting. Instead, my chest has been tight ever since he offered to drive me home, because I know exactly where every good date is supposed to end.

“Right here I muttered.”

He switches off the engine but doesn’t rush to unbuckle his seatbelt. Neither of us says anything for a few seconds as rain left the sidewalks shining beneath the streetlights earlier this evening, and the quiet hum of passing cars drifts through the cracked window between us. Kevin has always been good at sitting in silence and he never seems desperate to fill it, which might be why I’ve made it to a fifth date without inventing an excuse to disappear.

He’s a genuinely good man.

The kind mothers hope their daughters meet.

He's patient without being dull. Funny without trying too hard. Dependable in a way that feels almost old-fashioned. He remembers the smallest details, asks questions because he actually wants the answers, and somehow never makes me feel pressured whenever I freeze halfway through doing something as simple as brushing his hand while we’re walking.

Any sensible woman would probably already be introducing him to friends.

But I’m still trying to convince myself that letting him inside my apartment doesn’t automatically mean I’m handing him every broken piece of me.

I thank him for dinner, smiling a little too brightly as I reach for the door handle before I lose my nerve. My plan had been simple. Invite him upstairs. Make coffee. Watch a movie. Maybe, if the universe was feeling unusually generous, I’d even manage to kiss him without feeling like the walls were closing in around me.

Now that the moment has actually arrived, every bit of courage I’d saved up had vanished.

And the apartment building suddenly feels like the safest place in the world because it’s separated from Kevin by a locked front door.

“I had a really nice time,” he says quietly as we walk toward the entrance together.

“I did too.”

It’s true.

That’s the frustrating part.

I genuinely enjoy being around him.

My fear has nothing to do with Kevin.

It never does.

We stop beneath the faded security light outside the entrance. My fingers disappear into my handbag searching for my keys, but they refuse to cooperate. Lip balm. Wallet. Receipts. Museum access card. Everything except the thing I’m actually looking for. The longer I search, the more aware I become that Kevin is standing only a step behind me. Not crowding me. Not rushing me. Just… there.

My breathing changes before I can stop it.

The familiar pressure settles across my chest.

Not now.

Please, not now.

“Here.” His voice stays calm as he gently takes the keys from my shaking hand. “I think it’s this one.”

He unlocks the door with effortless ease before immediately stepping back again, leaving plenty of space between us as though he somehow senses exactly how much room I need.

Maybe he does.

He smiles, leans forward just enough to brush a light kiss against my cheek, and slips his hands into his jacket pockets.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Then he turns and walks away.

That’s it.

No frustrated or awkward attempt to push for more.

I stand frozen beneath the entrance light until his taillights disappear at the end of the street.

“What is wrong with you?” I whisper to myself.

The question follows me all the way upstairs.

The elevator has been out of order for almost two weeks now, forcing everyone to use the stairs. Normally I wouldn’t mind the exercise, but tonight each step feels heavier than the last. By the time I reach the third floor, embarrassment has completely replaced whatever confidence I walked into the evening with.

I barely make it inside my apartment before calling Kat.

She answers before the first ring finishes.

“You’re home already.”

“Unfortunately.”

She sighs dramatically.

“Let me guess. You panicked.”

“I didn’t just panic. I practically fled.”

I toe off my shoes near the front door and carry my handbag into the living room before dropping onto the sofa with enough force to make one of the cushions pillow slide onto the floor. The apartment feels exactly as it always does. Quiet. Comfortable. Safe.

Maybe too safe.

“I really thought tonight would be different,” I admit. “I even convinced myself I’d invite him upstairs.”

“And?” she presses.

“I couldn’t.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

She laughs softly.

“No, Trinity. Something happened.”

“I got scared.”

The words come out quieter than I intended.

“I know he’s patient. I know he’d never force anything. I know he isn’t expecting me to jump into bed with him. I know all of that.”

“But?”

“The closer we got to my building…” I close my eyes. “It felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

Silence settles over the line for a moment.

Then Kat speaks with the same steady reassurance she’s repeated so many times I’ve practically memorized it.

“That doesn’t erase the progress you’ve already made.”

“It feels like it does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’ve been seeing my therapist for nearly two years.”

“And?”

“And I still can’t invite a decent man inside for coffee.”

“You’re measuring yourself against the wrong finish line.”

I rub my forehead.

“I just keep wondering how long someone like Kevin is supposed to wait.”

“If he likes you, longer than you think.”

“I couldn’t even kiss him.”

“You let him kiss your cheek.”

“That’s hardly the same thing.”

“No,” she says gently. “But it’s still further than you were six months ago.”

I hate that she’s right.

Progress is frustrating because it moves slowly enough to be invisible while you’re living through it.

“I’m terrified he’ll eventually decide I’m too much work.”

“Then he isn’t the right man.”

I laugh quietly.

“You always make everything sound simple.”

“It isn’t simple.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t want you giving up because healing isn’t happening on the schedule you imagined.”

I pull my knees onto the sofa.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal.”

“You already are.”

I don’t argue.

Mostly because I’m too tired.

We change the subject after that. Lunch tomorrow. A new exhibition opening at the museum next month. Her latest terrible date that ended with a man explaining cryptocurrency over dessert. By the time we hang up, she’s successfully talked me into smiling at least twice.

The apartment falls silent again.

Outside, the city is only beginning its night.

Inside, mine already feels over.

I wander into the kitchen, open one of the cupboards and pull out the bottle of tequila I keep for the rare occasions Katelyn visits. We usually turn it into margaritas and spend hours laughing about whatever disaster she’s accidentally dated that week.

Tonight I don’t bother with salt or lime.

Just a glass.

The first shot burns.

The second goes down easier.

Cradling the bottle beneath one arm, I drift back toward the sofa and unlock my phone. Almost without thinking, I reopen the dating app Katelyn convinced me to download months ago. Faces scroll endlessly beneath my thumb. Smiling strangers. Carefully written biographies. Men promising adventure, honesty, commitment and forever.

Kevin should be exactly what I’ve been hoping to find.

So why does every instinct inside me keep waiting for something to go wrong?