Second Dive: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Kings Of The Water Book 3)

by Jasmin Miller

  “I have lasagna at home.”

  The paintbrush almost falls out of my hand as I look at her. “Your lasagna?”

  “Yup.”

  “Hell, yes.” I’m only a decibel away from shouting it from the rooftops.

  “Shush. Little ears.” Chloe chuckles and swats her hand at me. “Plus, only special people like my family and friends are allowed to know about my lasagna.”

  Little ears? Fuck, she’s cute.

  She’ll be the best mom one day. I’ve always known that.

  But one thing at a time. I don’t want to overwhelm her either and drive her away. Because did she just throw me in the friend category there with her little statement? Huh. Not ideal, but I can be her friend, with benefits—lots of them—until she’s ready for the next step.

  I give her a cocky grin because that’s the kind of relationship we have. “We can Netflix and chill?”

  She shakes her head and laughs. “Something like that, sure.”

  Awesome.

  Chloe holds up her finger. “But only if we focus for the next hour now and paint.”

  “Deal.” I hold out my pinky to her, and she stares at it for a moment before gingerly curling hers around mine.

  “Deal.” She gets her phone out of her pocket and plays around with it for a moment. “I’m going to listen to some music. I need all the help I can get to stay focused. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

  I nod and get working on my own painting. Sometimes, I peek over and watch her paint, all engrossed in not only her artistic skills but also how she moves her body to whatever music she’s listening to. Until she looks at me and laughs before giving me a shoo motion with her hand.

  She was right though, we do get a lot done during the next hour. And even though my painting lacks some skills, I also feel oddly accomplished.

  After we clean our brushes and trays in the bathroom, we stow everything in the hallway closet and make our way to the elevator.

  A man rushes toward us. “Chloe.”

  The same man I’ve seen her with before here at the hospital—where she’d kissed his cheek, or was it him kissing her?—and another time where he picked her up at the house.

  “Hey.” She goes up on her toes and hugs him. For a lot longer than you’d hug an acquaintance or normal friend. Hmm.

  He gives her a peck on the cheek and looks at her. “You’re all good?”

  She smiles up at him. “Yup, all good.”

  “Great.” He gives her shoulder a squeeze before his gaze moves to me. “Hey, Noah. It’s been a while.” He holds out his hand and I shake it. Dumbfounded.

  Do I know this guy?

  “Hey . . .” It couldn’t be more obvious that I have no clue who he is.

  “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” Chloe slaps a hand on her forehead. “Noah, do you remember my uncle Cody? He used to look a bit different. More hippie with longer hair and a beard.”

  “Thanks for that reminder.” Cody laughs and elbows her in the side. “I’m glad Checco isn’t here to witness that trip down his beloved ‘fashion faux pas’ memory lane, or I’d never hear the end of it. Again.”

  “He loves to tease you about it.”

  He lifts his hand in an “oh well” gesture. “I’m not saying he’s wrong. That doesn’t mean I want to hear about it all the time either though.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Then they both turn their attention to me again.

  “I definitely didn’t recognize you. Wow.” I push my hand through my hair.

  He shrugs. “I totally get it, no worries. How are things going? Congratulations on your athletic success. It’s been a great ride for you.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

  The elevator arrives, and we head downstairs while Chloe updates him on the painting. And some competition I don’t have a clue about. I need to remember to ask her about that later.

  “I’m over there.” Cody points to a car row over after we enter the parking lot. “Will you be at the bar on Friday?”

  She chuckles. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  What’s at the bar Friday? And what bar?

  Even though so much seems to have happened between us, and things have started to feel so normal again, I only need a five-minute conversation with a third party to show me how little I know about her life.

  Good thing we’ll spend the next few hours together.

  “It was good seeing you, Noah.” Cody and I shake hands again before he turns to Chloe.

  “Text Checco before he stands in front of your door unannounced.”

  “Will do.” She leans up to kiss him on the cheek, and with a wave, he’s gone.

  Chloe turns to me. “Sorry, was that weird? I keep forgetting that things have changed.”

  I get my car keys and play with them in my hand. “No worries. But I have questions.”

  “Well, let’s go home, then, and I might just answer some for you.” With that, she turns and walks in the direction of where I parked earlier.

  My hand shoots out and connects with her butt.

  She gasps and looks at me over her shoulder. “First at the car gets dibs tonight for dessert.”

  And then she’s off, leaving me standing there like a total idiot.

  When I finally get my feet moving, she’s already several rows ahead of me, zig-zagging her way through them like she does this for a living.

  Her laughter flows through the air, and my heart bounces happily behind my ribs. The heavy weight on my chest momentarily lifted.

  With a smile on my face, I reach my car where she’s bent over, with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

  Fuck. The weight is back tenfold, all the air sucked out of my lungs when panic takes over, and I come to a stop in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  She looks up at me and grins. “That was fun.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and force the breath out of my mouth. “Shit. You scared the crap out of me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her hand lands on my chest. “I keep forgetting that you just found out. It takes a bit to get used to everything.”

  She puts her head next to her hand on my chest, and I put my arms around her.

  If I hold her a little too tight, she doesn’t let on.

  Inhaling her sweet scent that’s mixed with the remnants of old paint smell on her clothes, I kiss the top of her head.

  Like I’ve done so many times in my life.

  Like I haven’t done in so long but want to do for a lot longer.

  Twenty-Seven

  Chloe

  “This is exactly what I needed.” Noah puts his plate on the coffee table with a quiet thud before leaning back and patting his stomach. “Still the best damn lasagna ever.”

  Since my portion was a lot smaller than his, my plate’s already on the table. “Thank you.”

  It feels so dang good to just sit next to him and enjoy a meal, especially after the scare I gave him earlier in the hospital parking lot. The laughter got stuck in my throat as he was rushing toward me, his face pale as a white sheet.

  I keep forgetting that he still frightens so easily.

  Of course, I freak out too when I don’t feel well, but at least that doesn’t happen often anymore.

  There are a gazillion people with health issues—both mentally and physically—and a lot of times, life throws you a curveball and kinda leaves you stranded at the side of the road without a way home. So you make the best of it. You keep on fighting and get used to your new normal. And then you keep going. Rinse and repeat.

  Which of course means different things to everyone.

  This, right here, is pretty perfect for me.

  I’ve read stories about people who use this second chance and completely change their life. They travel the world, change their career, or do other extreme things.

  When everything happened, I was still so young, unsure of what my life would bring me, what life would have been like if I hadn’t gotten s
ick. Besides Noah, of course.

  It definitely helped me cement my choice of getting a degree in fine arts though, something I haven’t regretted for a second. It was one hundred percent the right choice. It’s helped me with my journey and has brought me joy when there was so much darkness.

  Noah stands up and walks to the painting that hangs above the other couch. “Did you paint that?”

  I nod and move next to him. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  We stare at the two figures sitting in the rain. The boy has his arm around her shoulder as she rests her head on his shoulder.

  A soothing wave washes over me, like always when I look at this piece. “I sketched this when I was at the hospital before I got my transplant. I didn’t have the best time, and I missed you so much. Drawing us like this, pretending that you were there and held me . . . it helped, I guess.”

  “I would’ve been there had I known. In a second. I wouldn’t have left your side. Ever.” His jaw is so tight, he barely gets the words through his lips.

  “I know. I really do. Everything in my life was so uncertain at that point, and there was nothing I could do except hope for a donor heart to become available. But it wasn’t like that for you. Your life was different. I knew you’d go far, have the incredible career you always wanted and dreamed of. The one you deserved. And you got it. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Don’t say that.” He stares down at his empty hands, and I grab one of them to give it a squeeze.

  “It’s true though. You achieved so much, and I was always rooting for you.”

  “I was so mad at you.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” My vision blurs, and I blink a few times to clear it. “But we’re here now, and that’s what’s important to me. It wasn’t planned, but I’m happy we’re close again. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you. More than I ever thought I could miss anyone.”

  Noah doesn’t say a word. He pulls me against him and kisses me. It’s nothing like the kisses we’ve shared so far. This one is so soft, so gentle, I can feel it seeping into my body. And it hurts. So much.

  Everything with us is a mixture of happiness and pain that can reach an intensity at times that’s too much to take.

  But after all the misery, after all the pain Noah had to go through, I owe him this. I owe him kisses that pierce my soul and leave a permanent mark. Right next to all the other ones he’s left there before.

  Because if there’s one thing about Noah and me, it’s that we were never meant to be apart. Life didn’t make that decision for us, I did. And for the rest of my life, I will equally hate and be proud of myself for making it.

  After a few more pain-filled—yet beautiful—kisses, he pulls back and puts his forehead against mine. “I never stopped missing you. Throughout my career, I always imagined your face in the stands. Cheering me on, knowing I made you proud.”

  “You did?”

  He nods just as the kitchen timer beeps.

  I lean into him to seal my lips with his once more before stepping away. “Dessert time.”

  He does his adoring half-snort, half-huff thing that always makes me want to squish his cheeks and kiss him senseless.

  I pick up the plates from the coffee table and put them into the sink in the kitchen before checking on the apple crisp in the oven. The corners of my mouth tug up when I look at it. “Perfect.”

  After getting it out and putting it on top of the stove, I turn around and find Noah putting the dishes in the dishwasher. After washing each plate off under the faucet. “You still do that, huh?”

  He doesn’t look at me but his cheeks lift. “I can see you’re still not doing it.”

  I press my lips together before answering. “And I still haven’t broken a dishwasher either.”

  He pushes the dishwasher door closed and leans against the kitchen counter. “Lucky duck.”

  I sigh. “Yeah.”

  We stare at each other in silence until he lifts his chin in my direction. “Do we have a few minutes before we can eat it?”

  A million questions float through my mind. Why are you asking? Do you want to eat me first? Those two might just be on repeat too. So I keep my mouth shut and nod instead.

  “Great.” He pushes off the counter, his tall, lean body towering over mine. “Want to show me more of your work?”

  “My . . . work?”

  “Yeah. Only if you want to, of course. I looked up some of your books online, but I bet they look a lot better when they’re printed.”

  Oh, that sweet, sweet man.

  “Sure.” I make a waving motion with my hand to follow me and walk through the living room, past the front door, and to the small hallway that’s off to one side with my office and a bathroom.

  When I walk inside, an immediate calm washes over me at the sight of my garden out the window. It offers great light, and the same sense of pride and happiness overcomes me whenever I see my workspace. It’s my element, the time when I most feel like myself. “There you go.”

  My drafting table, my desk, my drawing pads—both paper and digital—my bookshelves filled with books I love, and books I’ve illustrated.

  “So this is where you create your magic?” Noah walks around, stopping at the bookshelves, pulling out books and flipping through them. Smiling. Laughing. Seeing him enjoy my work makes my chest thump to a happy beat.

  When he makes his way back to my desk, he picks up a stray piece of paper.

  Looking at it, leaning closer, inspecting it more.

  "Holy shit, is that . . . is that us?" He turns the paper around like I don't already know what he's talking about.

  Of course, I had that drawing lying on my desk, because I've been staring at it when I'm supposed to be working.

  But surprisingly, it has helped me make progress with the drafts for my submission. I changed the looks of the characters to match them with the description of the characters. Shorter than Noah and me, darker skin and unruly black curls for the girl, and olive skin for the boy with wavy brown hair.

  And I have to say, these are some of my favorite drawings I’ve ever done. For some strange reason, it was easier for me to picture this abstract world when I imagined it with Noah and me.

  “It’s for a young adult illustration competition I’m going to enter. Not the drawing with us of course, but the theme is the same.”

  “You’ll do amazing. These are great.”

  “Thanks.”

  He puts the paper back down and looks around the room as if it’s a magical place. Would it be very inappropriate to kiss him? Because that’s honestly all I can think about right now.

  That undeniable heat is creeping up my face again. “I wouldn’t call it magic, but yes, this is where I sit most of the week to work.”

  “And you love it?”

  Why does his gaze have to be so intense? “Yes.”

  “Good.” He looks like he wants to say more. “Do you . . . do you mind if I take a picture of it?”

  To say his question takes me by surprise is an understatement, but it also makes me all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “Of course.”

  “Thanks.” He gets out his phone and positions it over the paper. When he’s done, and satisfied, his phone vibrates in his hand. He reads whatever is on the screen. When he looks up, he studies me. “Feel like going to a kids’ birthday party with me on Sunday?”

  I gulp.

  “Ryan and Harper’s baby girl turns one and they’re throwing her a party.” When I don’t say anything, he continues, “Never mind, I know it’s crazy. You don’t have to go with me, no worries.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’d love to come with you,” I blurt out, not sure I really mean it. Even though I’ve been curious to meet Noah’s friends and their kids. To see who he’s been around all these years when I wasn’t around. “But only if you come to the Parrot Lounge with me on Friday.”

  “The Parrot Lounge?” His eyebrows shoot up.

&nbs
p; “Yup. My uncle Francesco’s tiki bar. Have you been there?”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh that’s his? I haven’t been there yet, but I’ve heard interesting things about it.”

  “Well”—I’m ready to defend my uncle and his bar—“it is an interesting place with interesting people.”

  “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  He types on his phone and puts it away.

  And then he’s in my personal space, his hand going to the back of my neck and pulling me to him. “And now I want my dessert.”

  I hum my approval and he whisks me off to the living room couch.

  An hour—and multiple orgasms—later, we sit naked under the blanket with reheated apple crisp on our laps, laughing at something on the TV.

  I haven’t had any of . . . this.

  Sometimes that makes me angry, which is where I go in my head when I think about what I missed out on. A boyfriend, someone who loved me so deeply. Nights filled with food, great conversation, amazing sex, and . . . love. No sadness. No limitations.

  Nights like this is what I’ve yearned for and missed.

  Because it can’t get any more perfect than this.

  Twenty-Eight

  Noah

  The Parrot Lounge is packed when we get there Friday night. Chloe leads the way, and I keep my hand on her lower back as we make our way through the crowd.

  When we make it to the far side of the bar, I’m glad there’s an empty spot.

  I put my arm around Chloe’s waist and lean close to her ear. “Why are there so many people here?”

  Chloe smirks. “Rosa is on tonight. She always draws a big crowd.”

  Before I have a chance to ask who the heck Rosa is and why she draws a crowd, someone taps the microphone near the stage. “Welcome to Drag Night.”

  The whole bar erupts in cheers and hoots, and Chloe chuckles when I look at her with wide eyes.

  She mouths “Surprise,” and I want to kiss the damn smile off her face, so I do.

  This was supposed to be a quick, mostly chaste, kiss, but fuck, she’s intoxicating. The way her tongue plays with mine, the way she nibbles on my lips. If I don’t find the willpower to pull back soon, this night will end with blue balls for me.