Page 101 of Second Shot

Most people are drawn to the large piece hanging in the center of the room, but I find my father standing alone in front of one of the smallerpaintings.

Our relationship, while getting better, is still strained. It’s hard to let go of years of blame and bitterness, but I’m finding my forgiveness. We bothare.

He’s become a large part of Noah’s life, and my son loves him. In a way, he has a new start with his grandson. A chance to be there for him, like he wasn’t for Sam and I. It doesn’t rewrite the past, but it, in a way, changes the value of our ownrelationship.

Forgiveness.

Newbeginnings.

They aren’t just in the paintings. They’re in this room, living, breathing, evolving. The way lifeshould.

“This one…” My father says when I stand beside him, not taking his eyes off the painting. “This one’s myfavorite.”

It’s a simple piece. A young father and his daughter walking along the beach. The little girl looking up at the man like he’s hung the moon and stars. I was that girl once. I painted it in hopes that one day I might be able to find that feelingagain.

I know now, that giant of a man, was only that – aman.

“It’s one of mine, too.” I take his hand and I feel himtense.

He glances down at our entwined fingers and lets out a shuddering breath. “Your mother and Sam…they’d be proud ofyou.”

I smile, hearing the words he can’t say. Stubborn. That’s what Kane always calls me. I see it now in my father’s eyes. The way he struggles with his own emotions. I recognize the way they choke him, strangle him as he fights for control, making him seem hard anddispassionate.

“Thank you.” I lean up and kiss his cheek, then turn when someone calls myname.

“Brynne.” He stops me, swallowing hard and looking down at his glass, before once again meeting my gaze, and I see tears glazing his eyes. “I’m proud ofyou.”

I suck in my own breath and blink back the stupid tears that burn behind my eyes. “I know,Dad.”

He gives me a hard nod, regaining hiscomposure.

My chest squeezes.And I love you,too.

Forgiveness. Sometimes, it’s a slow process. Sometimes, it happens in a moment. The important thing is that ithappens.

From across the room, I catch Sebastian’s gaze and he gives me a thumbs-up.

A shiver of nerves races down my spine at what itsignals.

“It’s almost time,” Kiley says, chewing on her bottom lip. “Youready?”

“I thinkso.”

With a deep breath, I square my shoulders and focus on why I really came here tonight –I love KaneMadden.

Chapter 35

Kane

I’m so fuckingproud ofher.

Dressed in an elegant, silver gown, holding a champagne flute, Brynne stands in the center of the room surrounded by art critics, journalists, and our friends. People who came here tonight just to see herwork.

I’m not really sure why half the hockey team is here, but hell if I’m not glad they are. I love showing heroff.

She lets out a small laugh, her eyes shining with pride as she talks about the main piece in the center of theroom.

A six by six canvas hangs on a floating wall behind her. At first glance, the painting looks like a young man with his face buried in his hands, but depending on the angle, the image changes, or at least seems to. An old man. A young boy. But what’s fascinating are the emotions that seem to dance off the canvas. It’s not just me. I see the way people react. Fascination. Awe.Wonder.

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