Page 28 of Second Shot

“I’ll be out of town for a few days.” He pulls out his keys, twisting a key off the ring, then handing it to me. When I refuse to take it, he sighs and places it on the counter beside me. “You can come by whenever you want. Maybe bring a few of Noah’s things for when he stays withme.”

Stays withhim?

God, I hadn’t thought about that. If I don’t move in with him, then of course Noah will go to his place, even stay overnight eventually. The thought of being away from him for even a few hours makes my stomachhurt.

“You still have my number?” There’s an accusation in the question, but I ignoreit.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Call me if you need anything,” he says beforeleaving.

What Ineedis to clear my head. Get rid of the ache inside my chest, and the warmer, more pressing one between my legs. What I need is to feel his hands on my body, the strength of his thighs between my own. What Ineedis going to get me in a lot more trouble than I’m alreadyin.

Chapter 7

Kane

My phone hasn’t stopped buzzingsince I left Brynne’s apartment. There’s two angry messages from Coach, and a half dozen from Blake and Sebastian both wondering if I finally lost my fuckingmind.

Maybe Ihave.

Asking Brynne to marry me wasn’t exactly my brightest moment. Not that I don’t want to marry her. God, if the woman had said yes, I’d probably have flung her over my shoulder and carried her down to the courthousetoday.

I keep telling myself it’s about the kid. That I don’t want him growing up without a father around. But I know that’s not the onlyreason.

My impulse control has never been great, especially in times of high emotionalcrisis.

But it’s what makes me the hockey player I am. Quick, snap decisions; they come easy to me. Like I can see the play before it actually happens. And standing there with Brynne inches from me, feeling the heat of her body, seeing the desire in her eyes, feeling her walls finally crumbling - I wanted it. Her. Us. Afamily.

I rub the back of my neck as I weave in and out of rush hour traffic. I just hope that I didn’t scare the shit out ofher.

Blake’s warning about going slow rings in myhead.

Too late forthat.

The sun has dipped below the city skyline as I turn the corner towards the underground parking lot of my apartment. With my brain a clusterfuck of thoughts, I don’t see the small form that steps out of the shadows as the garage door slowly lifts until she’s standing a couple of feet from mydoor.

Hoodie pulled over her head, and tangles of long, matted blonde hair fall over her paleface.

She approaches the car slowly. I don’t see one of those cardboard signs, but I have no doubt she’s looking for me to give her some spare change. I’m surprised security hasn’t removed her. We don’t get a lot of beggars in this neighborhood, but the ones we do are usually escorted quickly back to their own side oftown.

The girl keeps walking closer as I pull up the garage door and wait for it to open for me. I’m about to drive by, ready to give the front desk shit, when I catch the girl’s eyes - blue, desperate, and all toofamiliar.

Shit.

She starts to retreat into the shadows as I put the car in park and open mydoor.

“Kiley?”

She stops, but her gaze darts around us, as if she’s already plotting anescape.

When the girl showed up at my apartment eight months ago, claiming she was my sister, I figured she was just some chick looking to piggyback on my success. Even if she was related to me, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with that part of mylife.

She’d sworn she didn’t want anything from me. Not that I believed her. Still, I’d had my lawyer dig into her past. Find out who she really was. If she was going to be trouble. Because as much as the media loved a success story, they loved dirt evenmore.

But by the time I realized she was who she said she was, she’d disappeared. And the number she’d given me to reach her had beendisconnected.

Seeing her now—dirty, skinny, and haunted—I swear I see my mother standing in front of me. Or, at least, what my eight-year-old brain remembers of the woman who’d given birth to me. Because that’s how old I was the last time I saw her, when Child Protection Services removed me from her care and tossed me into the foster caresystem.

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