Page 79 of Home Game

“Really? Because that was probably my top kiss.”

Now why the fuck had I said that?

She bit her bottom lip. “Okay. I just said top five because I didn’t even think I would make your top ten list, but it was definitely my top kiss too.”

I stared at her, and was a nanosecond from saying fuck it and hauling her into my bedroom, when she slid off the chair. She was done with this conversation. “Okay. Do you have practice?”

“I do.”

“That’s cool.”

I watched as she walked towards her room.

“What are you up to?” I called after her. I sounded so clingy. What the fuck?

“I’m going to look at the IKEA website on my phone and plan your bathrooms.”

“Okay.”

I watched as she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.

Fuck. My dick was hard again. So hard and so ready to go.

You’re doing the right thing, Parker. Just skate it off.

I was being a dick.Again. I couldn’t help it.

After practice, I came home and Zoey was waiting at home for me. She was so happy to see me. And she looked so damn cute with that smile of hers, I knew if I spent any time with her, I would break all my good intentions. So, I told her I was going out. She looked crushed, but she nodded and didn’t ask me where I was going.

I ended up going to see two movies. The entire time I kept thinking how much Zoey would have loved to be at the movies, and I hated myself for not inviting her, but I needed to strike some serious distance between the two of us.

The second day, after practice, I didn’t even bother going home. I headed out to a sports bar. I watched three games, ate dinner there, and drank enough that I needed to call KEYS PLEASE and pay for someone to drive my car home.

It was after midnight when I let myself into the dark apartment. I turned on the light and there was Zoey, arms wrapped around her knees, on the couch. She squinted her eyes against the light. I paused, staring at her, taking in the white tank top and checkered pink pajama shorts.

“Zoey.”

She said nothing as she looked up at me with those big blue eyes.

“Everything okay?” I tried again.

“You’re okay.” Her breath hitched. “I was worried.”

Her anxiety made me feel sick. I dropped to the couch beside her. “I’m okay. You didn’t need to worry.”

She waited a long moment before she spoke. "When I was six, my parents went skiing. They left me with the babysitter. They told methey would be home in time to take me out for dinner.” She ran a finger over the edge of her sling. “I waited. And I didn’t want to eat because they told me they would be home. I waited by the window for hours for them to come home. But that was it. I never saw them again. They were skiing out of bounds and they got hit by an avalanche.”

My heart was in my throat. “Oh, Zoey.”

“My parents were new to Canada. My mom didn’t have any family, she grew up in an orphanage. My dad’s mom was the only one left in the Ukraine and she was old and sick. So, she could not take me. She passed away 6 months after I got put in foster care.”

I couldn’t even speak. I gently took her hand. She didn’t resist me when I pulled her onto my lap. And then she was curled up against me. Head on my chest. No resistance this time. The thought of a six-year-old Zoey, with her big blue eyes, being sent to a foster home, nearly ripped my heart out. I put my arms around her and she gave this tiny little sigh.

“Zoey, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I wanted to explain why I was worried.”

I hated myself for putting her through that.

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