Page 20 of Second Goal

I inhale heavily. God, Iwant her to open up. To let me see all those things she thinks define her. I take her hand and kiss each knuckle, knowing I have to expose my own wounds before she’ll ever let me see hers.

“I think about how hard my parents tried to protect me...” I shake my head, those old wounds opening up as I think about the past. There are things I’ve never told anyone. Not even Kane. “As much as Emily’s betrayal hurt, I think the wounds we get when we’re young, when we’re still innocent to the ugliness of the world, are the hardest to recover from.”

“Someone hurt you when you were a kid?” Concern blazes in her eyes, a fierceness in the blue depth like she’s ready to fight anyone who caused me pain. And I understand the feeling. It’s how I feel every time I look at her.

“No one on purpose.” I draw her into my lap and start untangling her hair with my fingers. “My family was... I guess most people would say we were the perfect All-American family.”

Her eyes roll slightly. “Why am I not surprised.”

I snort. “The truth is, Kiley, nothing in this world is perfect. There’re always secrets hidden behind smiles.” The muscles in my jaw tighten, and my words are strained when I say, “Secrets are like vipers ready to strike... to kill.”

“Blake, I—”

I stop her protest by kissing her softly. “I’m not pushing you to share everything about your past. I just...” I drag my thumb across her jaw. “I just ask that you don’t lie to me.”

She nods, but there’s a heaviness in the room now.

“Tell me one thing I don’t know about you,” I say.

She frowns. “Like what?”

“Anything. A good memory. Something embarrassing. Or a moment in your life that defines you.”

Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth, and her brows draw together, then after a few seconds, she finally says, “Corn.”

I raise a brow at her. “Corn?”

She nods. “There was this one family that took me in. They lived on a farm outside town. I’d just turned six. I remember because the foster mom had made a cake for me. It was the first time anyone had ever done that.”

“Baked you a cake?” My heart hammers at the thought of no one caring enough for her to even bake her a fucking birthday cake.

“That. Or even really celebrated my birthday.”

“That’s not right.”

She shrugs slightly. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a birthday.”

Except it’s a huge deal.

“But this foster mom, she had balloons and streamers. I was her first. Foster kid, I mean. So I think she was trying really hard.” A smile touches her lips, eyes going distant with the memory. “It was a good day. But...” Her expression hardens.

“What?”

“She made the mistake of leaving the matches on the table.”

I have a bad feeling about where the story is going.

“After school, the bus would drop me off at the end of a long road. I loved that walk home. There were fields with sheep and horses... and corn. And there was a small creek that I’d skip stones in. I was only there for a few months, but it was one of the happier times in my life. But...”

“The matches?” I offer.

She nods. “A few days after the party, I was playing with them down by the creek. I’d watched a show at school before about a boy and his dad camping, and they’d made a campfire. So that’s what I tried to do. God, I was stupid.”

“You were six.”

“Still… the fire got too big and when I tried to put it out, it just kept getting bigger, and then it caught on the long grass beside the creek.” A shiver wracks her body. “By the time the fire trucks came, the fire had taken out half a cornfield.”

“Were you hurt?”

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