Page 11 of Second Goal

I force a smile and turn away, not wanting to see the compassion in her eyes. Because I don’t deserve it. “Not much to talk about.” Nothing good anyway.

But those years were a hell of a lot better than the ones that came after.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” I sit down on the floor beside Noah, who’s dumped the basket of toys and traded in the elephant for a shiny, yellow Tonka truck.

“Yeah, I should go.” Except Brynne doesn’t move, and I feel her watching me. “Have you thought about taking some fashion courses at the college? We’d be more than happy to pay if you want to apply.”

“Thank you. But you and Kane are already doing so much for me.”

“We’re family, Kiley. It’s nothing.”

Except it’s everything. And if she had any idea of who I really am, I know she wouldn’t be looking at me the way she is now. And she definitely wouldn’t leave me alone with her son.

But I’ve changed.

Liar,a voice inside my head yells.

It doesn’t matter that I don’t want to be that person. I can’t change who I am. Selfish. Liar.Murderer. Every harmful action. Every careless mistake. They’re carved into my soul.

The only thing I can do now is try to right my wrongs and hope to hell my secrets are never revealed.

Chapter Three

Blake

“Starowics,”Coach yells at me from the bench, his face red with frustration as I skate toward him.

I know the lecture that’s coming. And I also know I deserve it. It’s only the start of the third period, and I’ve already let in four soft goals, one that I’m sure will be blasted on every sports bloopers episode for the next year. So I’m not surprised when he pulls me off the ice and puts in the second string goalie.

Alone in the locker room, I curse under my breath, knowing I need to get my head straight. It’s been a week since I kissed Kiley. A week of pretending like it didn’t change everything.

It had. More than I ever imagined one simple kiss could.

Except it wasn’t simple. It had gutted me, fucked with my head, and I’ve been spinning out of control since.

I’ve been fighting my attraction for her, swearing to myself that I wouldn’t give in to it. Because I knew that once I gave into my needs that I’d never be able to let her go. When I’m with her, I’m way too close to giving in to the illusion of forever and love, and all that other bullshit that can destroy a person.

An illusion I promised myself I’d never be the victim of again.

The buzzer sounds and a few moments later, the guys start piling into the locker room. Kane comes in last after a short post-game interview, no doubt giving the media some excuse for my fuck ups and putting the loss on the defense and not where it should be - on me.

When Kane starts undressing and glances over at me, brows drawn down, I see the concern in his eyes and know I’m not walking away from this one without one of his infamous inquisitions.

I rub the back of my neck and wince.

Kane isn’t the only one watching me.

I might not be as young or quick as I used to be, but normally I’m reliable, a brick wall that doesn’t let weak goals in.

They have every right to be worried. We’re on a four-game losing streak that’s mostly my fault. Not that any of the guys have the balls to say it to my face, but I see it in their eyes, the accusations, the concerns, the disappointment.

Coach, on the other hand, doesn’t hold back on pointing fingers. And by the time his rant is over, I feel like complete shit.

My normal post-game adrenaline feels more like a murky high as I undress, shower, then head to the hotel where the team is staying. I go straight to the bar and order a double scotch, neat, downing the amber liquid in a single swallow. The bartender pours me another and I’m about to slam it back when Kane sits down on the stool beside me.

I knew he’d find me here.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks, ordering a beer.

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