Swallowing hard, I know he’s right. “Yeah. Maybe I should have. But…”
I clamp my mouth on all the excuses I’ve created. The real and imagined ones.
He takes a step towards me and reaches out like he’s going to touch my cheek, but he drops his hand before making contact. “Just let me be here for you now.”
I hold his gaze, searching for anything that will help me say no. Wanting to see some sort of falseness in him. But the man who stares back at me is someone I’ve never really seen. Someone devoted, caring, honorable.
Someone that could break my heart.
“I’ll think about it.”
I can see it’s not the response he wants, but he gives a small nod. “Okay.”
“Okay,” I repeat, suddenly awkward, and not knowing where to go from here.
“I’ll be out of town for a few days.” He pulls out his keys, twisting a key off the ring, then handing it to me. When I refuse to take it, he sighs and places it on the counter beside me. “You can come by whenever you want. Maybe bring a few of Noah’s things for when he stays with me.”
Stays with him?
God, I hadn’t thought about that. If I don’t move in with him, then of course Noah will go to his place, even stay overnight eventually. The thought of being away from him for even a few hours makes my stomach hurt.
“You still have my number?” There’s an accusation in the question, but I ignore it.
“Yeah.”
“Good. Call me if you need anything,” he says before leaving.
What I need is to clear my head. Get rid of the ache inside my chest, and the warmer, more pressing one between my legs. What I need is to feel his hands on my body, the strength of his thighs between my own. What I need is going to get me in a lot more trouble than I’m already in.
Chapter 7
Kane
My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing since I left Brynne’s apartment. There’s two angry messages from Coach, and a half dozen from Blake and Sebastian both wondering if I finally lost my fucking mind.
Maybe I have.
Asking Brynne to marry me wasn’t exactly my brightest moment. Not that I don’t want to marry her. God, if the woman had said yes, I’d probably have flung her over my shoulder and carried her down to the courthouse today.
I keep telling myself it’s about the kid. That I don’t want him growing up without a father around. But I know that’s not the only reason.
My impulse control has never been great, especially in times of high emotional crisis.
But it’s what makes me the hockey player I am. Quick, snap decisions; they come easy to me. Like I can see the play before it actually happens. And standing there with Brynne inches from me, feeling the heat of her body, seeing the desire in her eyes, feeling her walls finally crumbling - I wanted it. Her. Us. A family.
I rub the back of my neck as I weave in and out of rush hour traffic. I just hope that I didn’t scare the shit out of her.
Blake’s warning about going slow rings in my head.
Too late for that.
The sun has dipped below the city skyline as I turn the corner towards the underground parking lot of my apartment. With my brain a clusterfuck of thoughts, I don’t see the small form that steps out of the shadows as the garage door slowly lifts until she’s standing a couple of feet from my door.
Hoodie pulled over her head, and tangles of long, matted blonde hair fall over her pale face.
She approaches the car slowly. I don’t see one of those cardboard signs, but I have no doubt she’s looking for me to give her some spare change. I’m surprised security hasn’t removed her. We don’t get a lot of beggars in this neighborhood, but the ones we do are usually escorted quickly back to their own side of town.
The girl keeps walking closer as I pull up the garage door and wait for it to open for me. I’m about to drive by, ready to give the front desk shit, when I catch the girl’s eyes - blue, desperate, and all too familiar.
Shit.
She starts to retreat into the shadows as I put the car in park and open my door.
“Kiley?”
She stops, but her gaze darts around us, as if she’s already plotting an escape.
When the girl showed up at my apartment eight months ago, claiming she was my sister, I figured she was just some chick looking to piggyback on my success. Even if she was related to me, I wasn’t sure I wanted anything to do with that part of my life.
She’d sworn she didn’t want anything from me. Not that I believed her. Still, I’d had my lawyer dig into her past. Find out who she really was. If she was going to be trouble. Because as much as the media loved a success story, they loved dirt even more.
But by the time I realized she was who she said she was, she’d disappeared. And the number she’d given me to reach her had been disconnected.
Seeing her now—dirty, skinny, and haunted—I swear I see my mother standing in front of me. Or, at least, what my eight-year-old brain remembers of the woman who’d given birth to me. Because that’s how old I was the last time I saw her, when Child Protection Services removed me from her care and tossed me into the foster care system.
I know some kids go looking for their birth parents. Not me. I wanted nothing to do with the woman who neglected me, who’d used our government subsidy for drugs rather than food. And I sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with the asshole who’d shown up once every couple of years to beat the shit out of the two of us, before leaving again.
People talk a lot of crap about foster families, but I was lucky. The Hilliers took me in, and they fought to keep me. They were never able to officially adopt me, but they were my parents in every way that mattered.
Kiley wasn’t as fortunate.
I don’t know much about her past, other than she was sent into foster care when she was still in diapers. But unlike me, she flipped from family to family until she finally aged out of the system last year.
She picks at her nails and fidgets, looking like she’s ready to bolt at any second. The last time I saw her, she’d been wearing the same torn jeans, same black hoodie, but at least then they’d been clean.
“I know you told me not to come here,” she stutters, glancing around nervously, and I can see the small tremor that causes her hands to shake. From drugs, lack of food, or both, I don’t know. But one thing’s for sure, she’s in trouble. “But, I…”
I don’t know the girl. Other than sharing the same DNA as a deadbeat junkie, we have no connection. But I can’t ignore the nagging pressure at the back of my skull that she’s my responsibility.
Shit. I have too much going on right now to deal with another addict. And, in all honesty, getting pulled back into that world scares the shit out of me.
“What do you need?”
She chews on her bottom lip and gives a small shake of her head. “I’m…just late on this month’s rent. I know I told you I didn’t want any money, and I don’t. But…”
“How much?”
“Five hundred. I’ll pay you back. I swear.”
How many times had Sam said the same thing? I never saw the cash. Not that I expected to. I didn’t give two shits about the money I gave him.
And if I didn’t think the girl would race off to her dealer for another hit of whatever she’s on, I’d give her whatever she asked for.
“You using?” I have to ask it, even though I already know the truth. The dark circles under her eyes, her thin, almost frail features, the way her clothes hang off her body - the trembling. I know the signs.
“What?” Her already too big eyes widen, then she shakes her head. “No. This was a bad idea. I should go. I’m sorry for bugging you.”
She starts to walk away, and I curse under my breath. “Kiley, wait.”
Hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie, shoulders slumped forward, she turns slightly so I can only see half of her face, but what I do see guts me – humiliation, pain, fear.
“Come ins
ide. I’ll order us something to eat. You can get cleaned up-”
“I can’t,” she mumbles. “I have to be at…” Her mouth clamps shut on whatever she was going to say.
A car pulls up behind mine, and gives a small honk when I don’t move.
Fuck.
I pull out my wallet. Two hundred bucks. That’s all I have on me.
“Here.” I hand her the money, and when she doesn’t take it, I grab her hand and place the bills in it. “I’m away for a couple days. Come back on Tuesday and we’ll talk. I’ll get you whatever you need.”
The horn blares again, this time longer.
I glare at the guy before turning back to Kiley. “We’ll get you the help you need.”
“I’m not a junkie.” The words are whispered, her voice faltering.
Another honk. This time, I turn and give the guy the finger. “Two fucking minutes, man.”
But when I turn back, Kylie is disappearing around the corner.
I doubt she’ll come back.
And maybe it’s for the better.
Even as I think it, I know I’ll regret not trying to get more information out of her. The girl is on a one-way train to fuck-up-ville, and as much as I’d like to help her, I learned the hard way that you can only help people who want to be helped.
Chapter 8
Brynne
I sit on my lumpy futon with Noah in my lap, and he gives me a big toothless grin when I tickle his belly. I laugh with him, which only makes him giggle harder.
The hockey game plays softly in the background, as it always does when the Annihilators play. Even when I was in Europe, I’d stay up late or wake up early, depending on the time, and stream the games.
I don’t know why I watch. But I do. Like a bittersweet torture that I can’t turn off.
“That’s your Grandpa,” I mumble against Noah’s head when the camera zooms in on my father’s face, which is bright red from screaming at one of the refs.
I know that look well. The deep baritone that could, and has, made grown men cry.
At home, his anger was usually directed at Sam. Usually for something he did that didn’t live up to the great Steve Jacobs’ expectations. We were always a disappointment. Neither of us could do anything right in the man’s eyes. Especially Sam.
My stomach does a little flip when Kane stands up on the bench and says something in my father’s ear. My dad gives a sharp nod, then slaps Kane on the back, before sending him onto the ice.
The two of them have always had a connection. An ease of talking. Maybe it’s because they’re so similar.
Hard.
Focused.
With one love – hockey.
“For someone who claims to hate the sport, you sure watch a lot of it,” Felix says, shifting two bags of groceries in his arms as he comes into my apartment.
I frown when I look over at him. I wasn’t expecting him to come by tonight. And I don’t like that he thinks he can come in without knocking. It’s the second time this week. I keep forgetting he has a spare key. I gave it to him when I was in the hospital after I’d had Noah. He’d used it to pick up a few things for me. But he’d never given it back.
“I told you I don’t need you to bring me groceries.”
“I know.” He pulls out a bag of tomatoes and places them on the counter. “But it’s Saturday night. I’ll make dinner.” He holds up a bag of spaghetti and winks. “Then we can watch a movie when Noah goes down.”
Definitely time to put some boundaries up.
I place Noah in his swing, then give it a crank, before standing.
Felix already has the cutting board out and is starting to peel the garlic bulbs when I walk over to him.
“I’m actually pretty tired tonight.”
He pulls out a knife from the drawer and starts dicing the garlic.
“If you’re worried about falling asleep during another movie, I’m getting used to it.” He winks at me again, a grin tugging at his lips, then he nods at the bag beside him. “Can you wash the red peppers?”
I sigh and grab the bag, taking it over to the sink.
Felix has been a good friend, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful. But I’m starting to get the impression that he wants more than just friendship.
I assumed that me having a kid was a big, blaring red light. But maybe I was wrong.
“Kane came by last night,” I say, handing him the washed peppers.
He doesn’t look at me, but I see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “Let me guess, he offered you money to keep quiet about it?”
I don’t miss the hostility in his voice.
“No.” I lean against the counter and rub the back of my neck. “He wants to be part of Noah’s life.”
He grunts and shakes his head.
“He seemed sincere.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “And you believe him?”
“I don’t know. But he wants me to move in with him.”
Felix stops chopping, his fingers going white around the knife before he places it on the chopping board. “And?”
“And what?”
“Are you considering it?”
I shrug.
“I thought you hated this guy.”
“I do…I did.” I rub my palms on my jeans. Even though the volume is low, I hear Kane’s name from the television announcers, and when I glance over, I see his face briefly enlarged on the screen before the shot goes back to the full rink. “It’s complicated.”
“Shit.” Leaning against the counter, he shakes his head. “You’re really thinking about it?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you need money? If you’re struggling, I can help.”
“No. You’ve already helped enough. You’ve been a good friend-”
“Right.” He snorts through his nose, and says sarcastically, “A good friend.”
“Why don’t we make dinner, then we can-”
“You know what? I’m not feeling too great. I think I’m going to pass tonight.” He starts towards the door.
“Felix.”
He turns, his dark eyes suddenly fierce. “What?”
“I just…I don’t want you to be angry with me.”
“I’m not angry with you. I’m angry at myself for being a fool, thinking…” He shakes his head, jaw clenched, lips pressed in a thin line. “Just don’t expect me to be the guy you go running to when everything falls apart. Because it will, Brynne. A guy like Kane Madden is trouble.”
“You don’t know him.”
His brows pinch down even further. “I know what you’ve told me. He’s bad news. After everything he did to you, you’re just going to let him waltz back into your life. Into Noah’s life?”
“People make mistakes-”
“You’re defending him?”
“No. I just…”
“God, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“I’m not.” I hate him. But the thought doesn’t hold the same fuel it used to. “He’s just…we’re just…”
“Just what? Because I’m pretty sure you weren’t going to say friends.”
No, Kane and I have never been friends. The only thing we’ve ever had in common was Sam. And now Noah.
Felix sighs heavily, the sound full of resignation. “Just think hard before you decide anything.”
I nod and he starts to turn, but when he reaches he door, he stops with his hand on the knob. He glances over his shoulder, his dark eyes burning with something I only now recognize - desire. And I feel foolish for not seeing it before.
“I didn’t mean what I said.” His jaw ticks, and his nostrils flare. “I’ll be here. When he fucks up. When he breaks your heart…again. I’ll be here.”
“This isn’t about my heart. It’s about Noah.”
His lips twitch up and he gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me.
And, in all honesty, I don’t believe it myself. My heart has always been involved when it came to Kane, which is why I’d
created a very high, very wide barrier around it.
I know Felix is right.
Given the chance, Kane will destroy me. Just like he destroyed the only person in this world who ever cared about me.
Chapter 9
Two Years Ago…
Kane
“Can’t live like this anymore.” Sam’s voice is hollow, and I can tell he’s on something.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“Sam. Where. The. Fuck. Are. You?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m already gone.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
More silence.
I grab my car keys, then slam my apartment door behind me before racing towards the elevator, jamming my thumb at the button multiple times as if it’ll make it come faster.
“Sam?” I bellow into the phone.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
But he’s not. Not really. His mind is messed up, and not just from the drugs. Even when he’s not on anything, which isn’t often anymore, he’s been saying some pretty weird shit.
“Where are you?”
“Apartment.”
“I’m on my way over.” In the parking garage, I put my car in reverse, squealing the tires. “Just don’t do anything stupid before I get there.”
“Too late.” The words are heavy, like he’s fighting off sleep.
Fuck.
“What did you do?”
“Love you, man.” His breath comes out in a wheeze. “Take care of Brynne for me.”
“Don’t fucking put that shit on me. You’re going to be fine. Tell me what you took. I’m hanging up. Calling an ambulance-”
“She’s always cared about you. And I know…” He sounds so fucking tired, like every word is strained. “I know you love her. It’s bullshit you never did anything about it.”
“I’m hanging up now. I’ll be there soon.”
As soon as I end the call, I dial 911.
I’m not a religious person, never have been. But I pray to any God who’ll listen to make me get to him on time.
Second Shot: A Men With Wood Novel Page 6