Page 106 of Sacrifice the Knight (Checkmate 6)

“Do you ever play thewhat ifgame, Cap?”

“Only all the time,” I laugh. It holds no humor, but it still feels better than weeping.

“I’ve been playing that game all day. Like, what if your wife and kid didn’t die? Would I still have met you? What if you and your wife decided to divorce but remain friends? Then we would have met, and maybe I’d have a stepsister my exact age.” He makes a shot so casually, it makes me jump. I’m caught in my own head imagining this alternate reality. “I wouldn’t even be mean to her. I’d let her sit at our table, eat my mom’s pot roast, let her have the last of the pie. I’d probably even take her to the gym to learn how to fight. She’d fit right in, because I know she’d be cool. She’s half you, and your wife decided to remain friends, which means she’s cool too. So I’d take Callie to the gym, teach her how to throw a mean hook, then I’d make a big deal about how none of the guys can look at her.”

“You’re crazy.” I turn away and rub my cheek on my shoulder. “Callie was crazy too.”

He flashes a handsome grin. “See, I knew she’d fit in. I know the past is the past, and I know if you could bring them back, you would. So mywhat ifsprobably annoy the shit out of you. But this is new information for me, so I’m still in the thick of processing.”

“You don’t annoy me. It’s nice she gets to live her life in your mind.”

“Right.” He grins and makes his next shot. Six down, two to go. “I get it’ll never come true, but maybe she’s up there watching you, and if she is, maybe she can see into my head. I can teach her how to fight that way. She’d be cute as a button, but not taller than me, because that would be weird.”

“Her mom was five-seven.”

He nods as though this information is vital – and approved. “So she would be average height, and I’m already that tall, with a bunch of growing left to do. That works for me. She’d be pretty, but not the kind of pretty I wanna sneak a look at. You don’t look at sisters, not even steps.”

I simultaneously laugh and want to smack him for putting that in my head. “No, you don’t look. Not even steps.”

“But if she’s beautiful,someoneis gonna look. That’s where I come in.” He makes a shot so the bullet passes through the forehead of his target. “And I don’t miss.”

“You’re definitely crazy.”

He laughs and continues forward for his final shot. “Anyway, Mom had a bit of a moment last night, spilled her guts about what you told her, then she smacked me when I reminded her she hadn’t yet admitted to dating you. She got mad I caught her out.”

“She doesn’t like being caught out on shit.”

He snickers. “Don’t I know it. She gets so mad sometimes. But she needed to purge, and by doing so, she woke up a little happier this morning. Nothappyhappy, but I guess she was a little lighter. Then we ate breakfast, and I got another smack when I mentioned that Callie was probably hot, and I’d have to goBenon everyone.”

I’m tempted to smack him too, but he’s holding a loaded gun, and I don’t fancy getting shot today. “Stop talking about my daughter now. You’re making it weird.”

“But if we stop talking about them, they become forgotten.” His smile turns nostalgic in a way, despite the fact he’s never met my daughter. “In some cultures, they make anofrenda, an offer, on the Day of the Dead. They light a candle and believe it helps guide your loved one back to you.”

I swear, this kid blushes when I look at him.

“I heard Ben’s new stepdad talking about it one night. It’s big in Spanish culture, I think. But anyway, they do it so your loved ones are always remembered. Have you ever lit a candle for your wife and baby?”

“Well…” I hesitate. “No, and now you make me feel like a straight up bastard for not doing it.”

He snorts. “You don’t have to. It’s doesn’t make you a bastard for not doing it. But maybe you should consider it. They might see the candle you light for them, and even if they don’t, the worst thing that can happen is you’ve saved a few bucks on electricity.” I step away when we stop by the final target. Mac turns sideways, favors his bad leg, aims his gun. Then he looks to me. “If nothing else, you have a candlelit room you might wanna ask my mom to visit. After you’ve cooked a fancy meal and practiced your speech about how sorry you are for running away like a little bitch.”

He turns back to the target and shoots… and misses. “Fuck.”

“Arrogance, young padawan.” I clap his shoulder and take the now spent gun from his hands. “Arrogance will fuck you over every time. Now go train for your fight.”

Shaking his head, he walks forward and slams his fist against the dummy’s face like it’s his fault he missed. Like the dummy purposely jumped out of the way to make him look stupid. “Will you come?”

“Hmm?”

He turns back and meets my eyes. “To my fight. It’s this Saturday, so I figured maybe you wanna come.”

“Mac…”

“You don’t have to talk to my mom if you’re too scared, though I reckon it might be a good idea. She’ll be in public, so she’ll be on her best behavior. She’ll be watching me fight, so she’ll be vulnerable and twitchy. I bet if you turned up at the exact right moment, she might throw herself into your arms if you promised to stop my fight.” He pauses. “I’d throw in the towel and make it look like it was your doing.Bada-bing, you’re the hero, more candlelit dinners, less crying at night.”

“I don’t cry every single night.”

He looks to me and smirks. “Shut up. I’m just saying, she’s not actually on the man hater train anymore. She’s proud, but she likes you. You’ve just gotta make up for the fact you ran. She craves stability, and you fucked with that. Now you gotta fix it.”

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