Second Goal

by Seabrook, C. M.

  “It’s not,” I say, but even as the words come out, I know they don’t hold as much truth as they used to. “I haven’t let myself think about it for a while. Once someone hurts you in that way, things that you once thought you wanted don’t seem important.”

  “I’m sorry she hurt you. I think...” She reaches out and traces the scar above my brow with her fingertips, then murmurs, “I think it’s the scars we don’t see that change us the most. That defines us.”

  I inhale heavily. God, I want 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?”

  She shakes her head. “No.”

  I place my palm on her cheek and search her eyes. “Then what happened?”

  “The social worker showed up at the door that night and told me to pack my bags.” There’s so much misery in her voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I understood then.”

  “Understood what?”

  Those blue eyes fix on me. “You asked for a moment that defines me. That’s it.”

  I frown. “How?”

  “I’ll always be that kid with a match, ready to burn everything good around me.”

  “You were six, Kiley. Six-year-olds do stupid things.” But I realize that the memory isn’t just about the damage she caused. “Not everyone is going to give up on you if you make mistakes.”

  “Maybe in your world.”

  “You think we’re that different?”

  “You said yourself that your family was perfect.”

  I grunt. “Yeah.” I tighten my arms around her and lean back on the mattress, her head on my shoulder. “We were perfect. Perfect at hiding our flaws. Until we weren’t.” I brush my hand over her hair and sigh.

  “What about you?” she asks.

  “Something that defines me?”

  She nods.

  “I was twelve when I first realized that my perfect world was a charade. We were the family you saw in those terrible Sunday morning cereal commercials. Sure, my parents fought occasionally, and my sister Beth was as obnoxious as any ten-year-old—”

  “You have a sister?” She shifts so she’s looking in my eyes.

  “She died.”

  “How?”

  “Cancer. At least that’s what I think. We never talked about it. Even after she was gone. The worst part about it was I didn’t know she was sick.” I pinch my eyes closed and inhale through my nostrils, then let out the breath. “I mean, how the hell can your little sister be dying, and you don’t know?” A migraine starts in my temple, like it always does when I think about the nightmare that became my life. “Fucked up part was my dad didn’t know either. I’m not even sure Beth knew. If she did, she never told me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see it.”

  My dad and I were traveling a lot for my hockey. Most weekends, we were away for games and tournaments. During the week, there were more games and practices and camps. Maybe it’s my fault I didn’t notice.

  Because thinking back, there were signs.

  “She...” I swallow hard and take a breath before continuing. “Beth was in a coma when my mom called my dad and told him the diagnosis. We were in New York that weekend. By the time we got home, she...” My voice cracks. “I never got a chance to really say goodbye.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was worse for my dad. The man was never the same after.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “You know, he’d always been my hero. He was the strongest person I knew. But afterward...” A memory of him weeping in the hospital, crouched down on the cold linoleum floor, it still guts me to this day. “He still took me to all my games and practices. And he was there when I signed with the Annihilators. But he became a shell of the man he’d been.”

  “Did he stay with your mom?”

  “Yeah.” I shake my head, wondering if it wouldn’t have been better for all of us if he’d left her. Because emotionally, he checked out even though physically he’d still been there.

  “Why would your mom keep it from you?”

  “I think in her mind she was protecting us. Or maybe she couldn’t accept that there was something not perfect in her life. I really don’t know.”

  Silence stretches between us.

  “It’s one of the reasons why I hate secrets so much
. If I’d known...”

  “You couldn’t have saved her, Blake.”

  “I know. But I could have said goodbye.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  “Dad died six years ago. Heart attack. And my mom...” I sigh. “She’s still living her perfect life, self medicating with gin and Valium. She travels a lot now with a few friends who are also widows. I don’t see her much, but I think she prefers it that way.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

  I rest my forehead against hers. “Now you know all my damage.”

  “None of it’s your fault.”

  I cup her jaw, tilting her face toward mine. “Your past isn’t your fault either.”

  A tremor rolls through her and she starts to pull away. “You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

  “You were a kid trying to survive. Whatever you did, it doesn’t have to define you now.”

  She gives me a tight smile. “Maybe.”

  In that one word, I hear the hope she’s always so desperately trying to shove down.

  I shift, rolling us over and pressing her back against the mattress.

  She’s naked beneath me, and even though I told her I wanted to take it slow last night, my cock has other plans right now.

  Secrets, my head warns. Lies. You can’t trust her. She’ll break you. And this time you won’t recover.

  But in this moment, I know it doesn’t matter what she’s hiding. Even if it’ll destroy us both. There’s no walking away from her. I might not believe in the whole love-thing, or perfect families, and promises of forever. But there’s no denying the intense need to be with her, to protect her.

  And that need, to protect her, is almost as fierce as the need to consume her.

  I kiss her, hard, and her arms wrap around my neck, thighs spreading as I wedge myself between them. Her hips arch and she squirms beneath me, her pussy already wet, nipples hard and tight when I run my fingers over them.

  She whimpers when I rub against her opening, parting the sensitive flesh, and slipping one finger inside. I stroke and rub, penetrating just enough to make her cry out for more. When I sink a second finger inside her, she whimpers my name, “Blake.”

  She’s so damn tight. My fingers stretch the heated walls of her pussy, her juices soaking me as her hips jerk, trying to force me deeper. I stroke her clit with an intensity that has her whole body trembling, and a wail of pleasure tearing from her throat.

  Her pussy spasms around my fingers and I slow my strokes as the waves of her orgasm wash over her.

  “Stop teasing me,” she whimpers when I kiss her, my fingers still inside her.

  I chuckle. “You seemed to enjoy my teasing.”

  “I did. But I want you inside me.”

  I groan. “Don’t have protection.” And as much as my cock aches to be inside her, putting a baby in her belly is the last complication either of us needs right now. Even if the thought isn’t as terrifying as it should be. “And you’re not on birth control.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  She shakes her head.

  “You haven’t been with anyone since you lived here,” I tell her. “And you’ve only been to the doctor’s once, last May when you had strep. If you were on birth control, I’d know.”

  “Kane has you stalking me now?”

  “No. I pay attention, Kiley.”

  Worry lines form on her forehead.

  “And this has nothing to do with your brother. Even if he warned me away from you, I don’t think...” I cup her face and kiss her. “It wouldn’t matter.”

  Her bottom lip pulls between her teeth. “It’s not fair.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve come twice now, and you haven’t.”

  “I’ve waited this long. I can be patient.”

  “I want to please you. Can I…?”

  “Can you what?”

  She licks her lips, and I groan. “I want to taste you.”

  “Fuck,” I growl. “How the hell do I say no to that?”

  The smile she gives me lights up her face and she pushes at my chest until I’m on my back, then starts to pull at my pants, rolling them over my hips. My cock springs free when she releases it from the confines of my boxer briefs, the head engorged and aching to be inside her.

  And I make a mental note to go to the store this morning to get a box of condoms. Because there’s no way I’m going to last another day without being inside of her. The need that tears through me is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

  “God, I want you,” I groan.

  She pushes her hair back as she kneels over me, her pink tongue licking her lips, eyes widening as she takes in my size. When her lips part and she takes me into her mouth, a deep, primal groan rumbles from my chest.

  “So good. My god, that feels fucking amazing, Kiley.” I tangle my fingers in her hair as her head bobs over my cock, her tongue swirling expertly over the head. My balls are so tight, I can feel the eruption that threatens, and I know I’m not going to last long.

  I’ve had too many fantasies about this.

  But none came close to watching her suck my cock, those brilliant blue eyes glancing up at me, filled with pleasure.

  This is heaven. And I’m about to lose myself in the pleasure of it.

  “Kiley,” I hiss as her strokes become firmer, her mouth caressing the engorged head. My thighs burn, my muscles so damn tight. Her tongue licks at the underside of my head, and I can feel the cum building in my balls. “Going to come,” I groan, warning her.

  She keeps sucking, eyes never leaving mine.

  And I can’t hold on any longer.

  I come harder than I ever have, my orgasm exploding through me, rocking me to the very depth of my soul. She swallows me with a low moan. And for a moment I can’t move.

  I’m done.

  Demolished.

  “Was that... good?” she asks, looking up at me.

  I groan, pulling her up. “That was better than good. It was fucking amazing.”

  She smiles, a flash of pride in her eyes, and I chuckle.

  “I could stay here all day,” I mumble.

  Her cheek rests on my chest. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Part of me thinks about it. I haven’t missed a practice in years.

  But then Pax jumps onto the bed, nudging his nose between us, and licking our faces. Kiley starts laughing, and I push the seventy-pound beast off of us.

  “I think he wants us to get up,” she says.

  I grunt. “Yeah. I need to feed them and take them out for a walk before I head to practice.” As much as I want to stay here, Coach is already pissed at me. The last thing I need is to be traded. Especially now that I’ve found the courage to fight for what I want.

  Chapter Six

  Kiley

  “You’re sure you don’t mind taking him?” Brynne asks, her hair in a messy bun, paint streaking both her cheeks and the smock she wears to work. “I haven’t been able to paint in days. And I could use an hour.”

  “I’m not busy today.” Or any day. It’s something that’s been bothering me lately. Sure, I volunteer a few hours every week at the soup kitchen, and I finished my GED a few months ago, but I’m still kind of floundering, not sure what I want to do with my life.

  Because there’s that part of me that knows all of this could be taken away at any moment.

  But I woke up this morning, with Blake’s arms wrapped around me, and I felt something I’m not sure I’ve ever really felt before - hope. Like maybe everything is going to be okay. I’m not ready to tell him everything. But maybe I don’t have to. Maybe this is my world now. My family. My life. Maybe, like my brother, I can step out of the gutter and really make something of myself.

  And maybe I’m fooling myself.

  Because Cruz will be back, demanding more. Demanding everything.

  “Are you okay?” Brynne asks, brown eyes, lik
e always, so intuitive as she studies me.

  “Yeah. I was just thinking about those courses you were talking about...” I chew on my bottom lip, my cheeks heating. I hate asking for anything. And the fact that I am right now is a big deal.

  Brynne seems to get it, because I can see her trying to contain her smile. “The design course? I still have the information if you want to sign up. Registration is open for another couple of weeks.”

  “Maybe it’s a bad idea,” I say quickly. Doubts flooding through me. “I mean, I really don’t know anything about design. I can sew, but—”

  “Kiley.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  “You do?”

  She nods. “We can sign you up this afternoon.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

  “It’s me who should be thanking you. With how busy Kane is, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  A loud crash sounds behind us, followed by a small, “Uh oh.”

  “I can’t look,” Brynne says, covering her face with her hands.

  I chuckle and move quickly, picking up Noah from the carnage of flowers and magazines he managed to knock off the coffee table with his Tonka truck. “Damage is minimal,” I tell her. “I’ll take him down to the park for a couple hours.”

  She sighs, and turns, handing me his jacket. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

  A smile pulls at my lips and Noah grins up at me like it was his plan all along to exasperate his mother.

  “Park. Park.” He claps his hands as Brynne and I work as a team to get him into his jacket, then strap him into the stroller.

  “There are snacks and drinks in the bag.” She looks ready for a nap, and when she stands, I see the slight rounding of her belly and wonder if there’s another reason she’s been so tired lately.

  My grin spreads.

  “What?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

  I shrug. “Nothing. I just wondered if... are you pregnant again?”

  “No,” she says quickly, like it’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever said to her. But then her cheeks lose their color, and her eyes widen. “Oh. Shit.”

  I chuckle and hand Noah a cracker when he starts to squirm. “I can pick up a test while I’m out.”