Second Goal

by Seabrook, C. M.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Blake

  “What do you think?” Kane asks, coming out to meet me on the large stone patio of the seven thousand square foot ranch he and Brynne are thinking of putting an offer on.

  “It’s a little pretentious,” I tell him, taking in the giant yard with the custom-built playhouse in the back corner. “Suits you perfectly.”

  He grunts, grinning at me. “Fuck off. Seriously though. Is it too much?”

  “No. It’s perfect.”

  “I think we’re going to put an offer on it tonight.”

  “That’s quick. You’ve only been looking for three weeks.” I know, because that’s how long it’s been since Kiley told me she needed space. Three long, fucking weeks.

  But I’m trying to respect her wishes, even though I feel like my insides are being shredded every time I see her, and she won’t meet my gaze, every time we’re in the same room together and I can’t touch her.

  I know I fucked up. Coming at her like that, practically accusing her of all the things I’d always defended her to Kane about. It was shitty. Worse than shitty, it was cruel. I did the one thing I promised her I’d never do - I hurt her. And I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to make up for it. Especially when she won’t talk to me.

  “How’s Kiley doing?” I ask.

  Kane frowns. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I fucked up... again. She’s not talking to me.”

  “Then apologize.”

  “I did. She said she wanted space, so that’s what I’m giving her.”

  Kane lifts a brow at me and snorts.

  “What?”

  “Just from my experience, when a woman says she wants space, what she’s usually asking for is for you to fight for her.”

  “That’s what I’ve done for the last two years.”

  “Sure, you’ve watched out for her. I’ll give you that. But fighting for her is totally different.”

  I scrub my hands over my face and mutter a curse under my breath. “She already thinks I’m a possessive, overbearing asshole. How the hell do I fight for her and not be those things.”

  Kane slaps my shoulder and chuckles. “Trial and error, buddy.”

  The back patio doors open, and the realtor walks out. I can see she’s star-struck when her gaze drifts between me and Kane, and when she gives me a flirty smile, I turn my back on her.

  She clears her throat and addresses Kane, “Is your wife coming?”

  “She’ll be here soon,” he tells her, then says to me, “You want my advice?”

  “Maybe. Depends on the advice.”

  He grunts. “Fight for her before it’s too late and she moves on.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You know something I don’t.”

  He shrugs. “I’m just saying, she’s a pretty girl, and now that she’s at college, I’m sure there are a lot of guys—”

  “She’s seeing someone?” A knot of jealousy forms in my gut.

  Kane chuckles. “No. I just thought I’d give you a little motivation.”

  “You’re an asshole,” I grunt as we walk around the side of the house, not listening as Kane starts to talk numbers with the real estate agent.

  Brynne’s SUV pulls up, parking behind Kane’s car, and she waves at me as she gets out, but she’s not who my eyes are trained on. Kiley sits in the passenger seat, gaze fixed on me. Brynne gives me a sympathetic smile, giving my arm a quick squeeze, and says quietly, “You should talk to her,” before moving on to Kane and the realtor.

  Glancing back at the car, I see Kiley take a deep breath before opening the door.

  “Hi,” she says softly when she gets out, her warm breath causing the cold air to form a small cloud.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here.” I struggle not to reach out for her, to draw her into my arms, especially when she shivers.

  “Brynne asked me to come. She wanted me to see the place before they make an offer.” She glances over my shoulder. “It’s... huge.”

  “I prefer the one on Oak Street. Bigger back yard.” I rub the back of my neck, hating the tension between us.

  “Brynne showed me pictures of that one. The kitchen was gorgeous, but I think this one has better lighting for her studio.”

  “Are you going to go in?” I ask her when she shivers again.

  “Noah’s sleeping in the back.” She nods at the car. “I’ll go in once he wakes up.”

  “You should wait in the car then, you’re going to freeze out here.”

  “I’m fine.” She zips her jacket up.

  More awkward silence stretches between us.

  “What are we doing, Kiley?” I step closer.

  “We’re talking.”

  “You know what I mean. I’ve tried giving you space, and it’s...” I rub the back of my neck. “I miss you.”

  She lets out a shaky breath. “I miss you too.”

  I remove the space between us and place a palm on her cheek. God, I miss touching her. Not just the sex, but having her beside me, holding her hand, all the small caresses that made me feel alive.

  Her eyes close briefly, but then she takes a small step back, and I let my hand fall to my side.

  “How are your courses going?”

  “Good.” She chews on her bottom lip. “One of my professors helped me get an internship with Harriott and Masters. I started last Monday.”

  “Wow. That’s a big company.”

  Her shoulders lift, then drop. “It’s not that big of a deal. But I’ve learned a lot already. I think...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s dumb.”

  “Nothing you say is dumb.”

  “I’d like to have my own clothing line someday.” She laughs. “See? Dumb.”

  “I think it’s great you have dreams. That you know what you want.”

  “I do.” Her gaze rests on mine, so many unspoken words between us. “I just never thought any of them would be possible.”

  “And now?” I know I’m pushing her when I remove the distance between us and rest my hands on her shoulders.

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “Whatever you want, Kiley. I’ll help you get it.” Just let me fight for you.

  She glances away. “Blake... there’s... I need to tell you...” Something in her voice sends a chill down my spine. And when she looks back up at me, I see the fear in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, cupping her face. That primal part of my brain kicks into overdrive, and the need to protect her overrides common sense. A low growl forms in my throat, and it comes out when I demand, “Is it Cruz? Has he—”

  “No.” Her palms go to my chest like she’s about to push away from me, but they just rest there. She takes a deep breath, then continues, “I haven’t heard from him, or from Amy. Not since the last time.”

  “You’re telling me the truth?” The question comes out rough, and I know I fucked up the moment I say the words.

  A flicker of hurt crosses her expression.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, dropping my hands. “I didn’t mean to accuse you.”

  “But you did. Again.” She frowns up at me.

  “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

  “I know,” she says softly, glancing away when Noah starts crying from inside the car. “I have to get him.”

  I nod, letting her move past me, watching as she gets Noah out of his car seat.

  Something is wrong. I can sense it, see it in her eyes.

  She’s keeping something from me. I push the thought away, knowing it’s probably my damn insecurities making a mountain out of an anthill. But I know her. And I know that if I push this now, I’m only going to create a bigger wedge between us.

  When Noah quiets down, Kiley turns back to me, shifting him in her arms. She’s so good with him. Natural. I haven’t let myself think about having kids, not sure I ever really wanted them. But with Kiley, I wa
nt everything. The house, marriage, babies, a lifetime with her beside me.

  Then fight for her. I just don’t know how, without pushing her further away.

  “Have dinner with me,” I blurt out. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

  “Blake—”

  “I know you’re angry with me. And I get it. I hurt you.” I move toward her, and Noah reaches his arms to me. I take him, shifting him on my shoulder, and he snuggles his head against my neck.

  “I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. I just...” She shivers and wraps her arms around herself, and I see the tears gather in her eyes. “I can’t do this here.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “I will... just... not here.” It’s obvious she’s trying not to cry, to keep her walls intact, but I can see them crumbling. “Please.”

  I brush my knuckles across her cheek, and she trembles. “Okay.”

  “I’ll come over after my class tomorrow.” She wipes her eyes, then reaches for Noah.

  I let her go, because sometimes the way to fight for someone is by letting them walk away. At least that’s what I tell myself as I watch her disappear into the house. But when the door shuts, I wonder if maybe I’m a bigger idiot than I thought.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kiley

  A blast of cold wind hits my face when I push through the large wood door of the Arts building and make my way down the stone stairs. I put my earbuds in, even though I’m not playing music, and keep my eyes down, so I don’t have to make conversation with anyone as I head to the bus stop.

  Nausea burns a path up my throat, and I take a small sip of my peppermint tea. But it doesn’t help. I’ve been sick to my stomach for the last two weeks. At first I thought I’d caught a bug until I looked at the calendar and realized my period was late.

  “I can’t be pregnant.” I’d sat in the doctor’s office, gaping at the older woman. Even though I knew it was my fault. I’d forgotten to get the morning-after pill. And by the time I remembered, it’d been too late.

  My fault.

  She’d given me a sympathetic smile, then proceeded to tell me my options.

  But I didn’t hear a word she said after that.

  I’m pregnant.

  God, if Blake didn’t trust me before, he never will now.

  I’ve avoided him long enough, trying to think of a way to tell him, wondering if I had to. But I promised no more secrets.

  My phone buzzes with a text from Blake asking where I am. I hesitate before starting to type my response. I’m already an hour late, but my feet are sluggish, knowing what I have to do tonight.

  I know exactly how he’ll respond. Anger at first. Maybe fear. Then his knight in shining armor complex will kick in, and he’ll want to do the right thing. Whatever that is. But I know he’s going to think I did this on purpose.

  All I wanted was to prove to him and myself that I didn’t need anyone, that I could be something without other people fixing my mistakes. But I’ve just made another huge one. The worst part about it is that there’s a piece of me that wants this baby. A part of me that’s already protective of it.

  “Kiley. Wait,” a woman calls out behind me.

  I keep walking, not wanting to talk to anyone right now, but I don’t get far before a hand is on my shoulder.

  Frowning, I turn, shock registering when I see Amy. A dozen emotions swirl in my chest. Hurt. Betrayal. Relief. Love.

  Even now, knowing that she’s been lying to me all this time, I still care about her. But I can’t trust her.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask cautiously, glancing around, looking for any signs of Cruz. I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t lurking somewhere in the shadows.

  Amy fidgets nervously. Eyes that are dark and bruised, stare at me from under the baseball cap she’s wearing. “I need your help.”

  “I’ve tried to help you.”

  “Please, Kiley. I just need...” She looks over her shoulder, then at her feet, anywhere but in my eyes. “I left him. I did it this time. I’m afraid he’s going to come after me. I just need some money to help me get out of the city. You should come with me. He’s angry, Kiley. Angrier than I’ve ever seen him—”

  “I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

  “He’s going to go to the police, Kiley. He’ll tell them—”

  “Tell them what?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I didn’t kill Ezra.”

  Her eyes widen and I see it, the truth. She knew all along. “How... I mean...”

  “You let me think I was a murderer. Why? For money? How could you? I would have given you everything I had.”

  She looks away, features distorted with guilt. “He made me. You know how he is.”

  “That’s not an excuse. I loved you. Trusted you. God, you were a sister to me.”

  “And you left me,” she yells, making a few heads turn in our direction. “You left Lucy.”

  “I begged you to come with me, but you chose him.” Pain radiates through me like a million pinpricks of regret. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there when Lucy got sick. Every day I think about her. And I wonder if things would have been different if you’d just come with me. But you chose Cruz. You didn’t protect her.”

  She looks down at the ground. “I did protect her,” she whispers. When she looks up, there are tears running down her cheeks. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

  “I don’t think you’re a monster, Amy. I just—”

  “She’s alive.”

  I feel like my whole body has been submerged in ice. “Wha-what?”

  “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you. But I...”

  I grip her arm. “Tell me what?”

  “You were right. I couldn’t keep her there. After Ezra... Cruz would have...” She doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “What did you do?” I demand.

  “She’d been sick for a few days. It was just a cold, but she wouldn’t stop crying. And you weren’t there. Cruz... he would have hurt her. I know he would have. So when I took her to the ER, I... I left her there.”

  “What are you saying?” I’m still not fully processing what she’s telling me. It can’t be true.

  “She’s alive, Kiley. I don’t know where she is, but she’s alive. I did protect her. She’s safe.”

  “Lucy’s alive?” I say the words, but the reality of what she just told me is hard to process.

  So many lies.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, and when I glance at it, I see Blake’s name on the screen. I stare blankly at it, my whole body numb, my pulse hammering in my temple as Amy keeps talking until she grabs the phone from me.

  “You’re not listening. I just need a few hundred dollars—”

  I stop her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? Do you even care?”

  “You know I do. I’ve always looked out for you.”

  “You lied to me. Made me think I’d killed a man—”

  “That was Cruz.”

  “It was you, Amy. I trusted you. I believed you. And then you made me think that Lucy was dead and that it was my fault.”

  “I was protecting her. Just like I protected you at the Murphy’s house. You know what I did. What I allowed him to do to me. But he still wanted you.” She glares at me, and I see something in her eyes I never noticed before - jealousy, resentment. “And look at you now. You’ve got everything. And you won’t help me.”

  “I’ll help you,” I tell her. “But it’s the last time. I’ll give you money, get you on a bus. But I never want to see you again. Do you understand?”

  Her nostrils flare and she nods, but then her gaze drifts to something behind me, and her mouth parts on a gasp. “No.”

  I barely have time to turn to see what she’s looking at when the first gunshot pierces the air.

  Across the lawn, Cruz stalks toward us, pistol pointed straight at us, and the second shot rings out. This time I feel the wind from the bullet.

  Amy cries ou
t, and when I turn back to her, she drops to the ground, eyes wide with shock as a dark circle of blood begins to pool beneath her.

  People start screaming and running around me, searching for somewhere to hide. I know I should too, but fear paralyzes me.

  “Amy.” I try to get her up, desperate to get us somewhere safe, but her body is limp. “Come on. Get up.”

  She swallows, eyes stunned, face pale. “Go. Run.” Her eyes don’t close, but I see the second the life goes out of them.

  “No. No. No.”

  Another shot is fired. This time the bullet lodges into the ground beside me.

  Run, my head screams. And I do. But as the next shot rings out, I know there’s no way I’ll be able to outrun it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blake

  The text message I sent Kylie half an hour ago remains unanswered, even though I know she read it. And when I try calling her for the second time, it just rings.

  I try not to worry, but that same feeling I’d got in the pit of my stomach yesterday when I’d talked to her is back. It’s a pressure, an unease that warns me something is wrong.

  I’m about to call Brynne and see if she’s heard from her when someone bangs on my door.

  Pax jumps up and starts barking. “Easy boy, it’s just Kiley,” I say, relief filling me as I head to the door and open it. “I started to think you weren’t com—” I pause when I meet Kane’s gaze.

  His face is void of color as he pushes his way past me. “Have you talked to Kiley?”

  “Not today. Why?”

  “Fuck. Just turn on the TV.”

  “What’s wrong?” Fear floods through me.

  “Turn on the damn television,” he demands, pacing my living room, then grabbing the remote from my hand when I’m not fast enough. He switches the channel to the local news station.

  “Want to tell me what has you so worked up?” I demand.

  He nods at the TV, where breaking news is headlined across the screen.