Page 9 of Red Zone

I let out a sharp breath, my grip tightening on the wheel. One reason kept coming back, no matter how much I hated it.Maverick.

The thought of him made my stomach churn. Mav had always been close to Skye—too close. Even back when we were together, I’d caught glimpses of the way he hovered around her, always there, always protective. I’d chalked it up to their friendship, but after Skye left, it hadn’t been hard to imagine him stepping in.

And now?

The way Skye had looked at me, the way she’d shut down the second Lily entered the room—it wasn’t just fear. It was guilt.

My chest tightened as the thought took root, unwanted but impossible to ignore.What if Lily isn’t mine? What if she’s Mav’s?

It made sense—too much sense. I let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and hollow in the quiet truck. Of course, she would have chosen him. Mav was solid, dependable, the kind of guy who wouldn’t let her down. He wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t reckless. He wasn’t me.

I slammed my head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling as I fought to pull myself together. I didn’t have any proof—no real reason to believe Lily wasn’t mine. But I didn’t have any proof shewaseither.

And those eyes…

I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face. I was seeing what I wanted to see. That was all. It was a coincidence. But the moreI thought about it, the harder it was to shake the memory of how Skye used to look at Maverick. How easy it would have been for her to turn to him when things fell apart. Jealousy burned, sharp and bitter. I didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to care. But the thought of Skye with Mav, of Lily calling him “Dad”—it was too much.

I shoved the keys into the ignition and pulled onto the road, the truck growling beneath me as I drove aimlessly through town. The streets weren’t busy, and the cold seeped in through the windows, settling deep in my chest. I didn’t know what to think, what to feel.

Part of me wanted to believe Lily was mine, that I still had a place in Skye’s life, no matter how small. But another part of me—the part that thought I wasn’t good enough, that I left nothing but damage in my wake the way my dad did—couldn’t help but wonder if it was for the best that I’d already been replaced. Maverick had always been there. And now, there was Lily.

It would be so easy to walk away, to let them have their perfect little family without me screwing it up. But I couldn’t. Because as much as I hated it, as much as it terrified me to admit it, I wanted to know the truth—even if it destroyed me.

Practice the next day was alive with activity, but my attention was shot. Every time I looked to the sidelines, there she was—Skye, camera in hand. After yesterday’s revelation about her daughter, my mind couldn’t stay in the game. The ball sailed past me, and I stumbled, missing an easy catch.

“Cartwright!” Coach Mack bellowed. “Get your head in the game.”

I’d nodded, my face burning with embarrassment.

After practice, Coach Mack pulled me aside again. “Cartwright.” His voice was low and serious. “I’ve noticed you’ve been distracted lately. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”What can I say? My chem class is kicking my ass, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to play because of my grades, so I could lose my chance with the scouts? Or the other thing that has plagued me since I learned it—Skye is a mom?

“Look, son, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but you need to stay focused. The scouts are watching, and mistakes like in practice today could break your future. Don’t force my hand and make me put Jackson in over you. I’d hate to see you throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

The weight of expectation sat heavily on my shoulders, so much so that after practice, I called Fiona to see if she’d had dinner yet. I needed my sister to remind me of the pact we’d made as kids—to make something of ourselves despite our shitty role models growing up. Fiona had accomplished her goals when she became a detective. It helped remind me that if she’d made it, I could too.

The afternoon sun dipped low as I drove toward Fiona’s. The light turned green, but instead of heading straight to my sister’s, I tightened my hands on the wheel, turning toward Coach Becket’s house. I told myself I wasn’t looking for her.But who am I kidding?The need to see Skye, even from a distance, overruled reason.

As the two-story house came into view, I slowed. A black Jeep stood in the driveway. When I was two houses away, the front door opened, and Skye walked out with no one other than Maverick Davis. He swung the laughing little girl in his arms while Skye went to the passenger door of the Jeep.

A pang of something—jealousy, loss, regret—burned through me as I watched him hold the little girl. Their laughter carriedon the wind, taunting me with what I could never have, what I’d never deserved.

I didn’t stick around. I pulled past and exited out the other end of the neighborhood, hoping she didn’t see me and think I was stalking her.

The drive to my sister’s went by in a blur, and I found myself on autopilot as I parked on the street and climbed the steps to her townhome, then rapped my knuckles on the blue door. Her place wasn’t super upscale, but in her words, it was more “blue-collar cozy.” It fit and was a step up from our origins and our dad’s hoarder-style dump on the city’s south side.

Fio answered the door, her dark-brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail as she waved me in. “Hey, bro. Hurry up. You’re letting in all the cold air.”

I grinned, inhaling the comforting aroma of Italian sauce. “What’d you make?” I hoped for lasagna. Fio’s was the best. Not that I would ever admit that to Aurora, but something about my sister’s reminded me of living there with her and all the time we’d spent together while Dad fucked off doing who knew what in his corner of the city.

I’d taken off from my dad’s place to live with Fiona as soon as possible the summer before college. I even stayed with her during holidays or long weekends when I could. It was the same in college. This was home.

My newly found good mood took an instant nosedive when I spotted Dad passed out with a fleet of beer cans near the recliner. Without deviating, I made a beeline for the kitchen, where spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread were waiting. Hot on my heels, Fio knew what I would say when we were far enough away, and I turned to confront her.

“What the hell, Fio? Why is he here?” I gestured toward the living room, where Dad snored amid a pile of empties.

Fio grimaced. “He lost the house.”

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