Second Goal

by Seabrook, C. M.

  The reporter is standing in front of a large building that I recognize. It’s the college where Kiley is taking classes. “...witnesses say there is one gunman... multiple shots fired... one confirmed victim.”

  My heartbeat pulses in my head and panic claws at my chest, squeezing the oxygen from it. But I don’t know real fear until I see a fuzzy image of the shooter taken by someone’s cell phone.

  I recognize the man immediately. I may have only seen him once, but his face is ingrained in my memory. A roar sounds in my ears and it takes me a moment to recognize it as my own voice. “We need to get there. Kiley’s in trouble.”

  “...we have new information... the shooter has been shot down...” the reporter continues as I grab my coat and keys.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Kane says, following me, but I hear the panic in his voice.

  “Tell me you aren’t doing the same thing.”

  He frowns but doesn’t answer.

  I try calling Kiley’s cell again. “Pick up the damn phone, Kiley,” I growl out as it keeps ringing.

  This time someone answers, “Hello?”

  “Thank God,” I breathe out as the elevator doors open. “Where are you? Are you all right? I saw the news—”

  “Sir,” a woman’s voice interrupts me, but it isn’t Kiley’s. “This isn’t my phone—”

  “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m a paramedic. We’re taking her to University Hospital. If you're family, you should meet us there.”

  “She’s hurt?”

  “Sir, I can’t tell you anymore. I shouldn’t have answered the phone—”

  “Just tell me she’s all right—” The call ends as the elevator doors open and we get off in the parking garage. I can’t get enough oxygen in my lungs, and when Kane demands to know what the hell is going on, all I can do is whisper, “They’re taking her to University Hospital.”

  “I’ll drive,” Kane says, taking the keys from my hand.

  I don’t argue, because I’m not sure I’d be able to right now. My body is vibrating, hands shaking uncontrollably.

  “She’s going to be fine.” Kane’s voice is steady, but I can hear the fear in it.

  “I should have been there—”

  “Don’t start that shit,” he says as we tear out of the parking garage and into traffic. “If she’s been shot, she’s going to need us both to be strong.”

  I know he’s right, but I feel paralyzed with fear. And all I can think is that I should have been there to protect her. I should have fought her harder. And I damn well shouldn’t have let her walk away.

  “You have to breathe,” Kane says as we pull up to the Emergency doors. But I’m not sure if he’s speaking to me or himself, because when I look over at him, he looks like he’s about to lose his shit.

  He parks the car in a no-parking zone, and I jump out, rushing through the sliding doors, Kane close behind me.

  The nurse at the front desk frowns at me when I demand to know where Kiley is. “Are you family?”

  “I’m her brother,” Kane says.

  She frowns, then types something into her computer, when Kane spells out Kiley’s name.

  “She was just brought in,” I say, my voice too loud, too rough, but I can’t hold back. “I need to see her—”

  “Sir, if you’ll take a seat.”

  “I’m not taking a fucking seat. I—”

  “You’re Kiley’s family?” A woman in scrubs approaches.

  “Yes,” I answer for both Kane and I. “Where is she? Is she all right?”

  “I’m Dr. Weaver. If you’ll both follow me.”

  We walk through a double set of doors, down a long corridor, each step filling me with more dread. The woman leads us to a small room and motions us to sit.

  I stay standing, but when she starts to talk, my legs feel like they might give out on me. “Where is she?” I demand.

  “I’m sorry, but the shot was fatal. She died before she got to the hospital.”

  No.

  The woman keeps talking, words that buzz in my head, but don’t make sense. She’s not dead. She can’t be.

  “Blake,” Kane barks. Tears run down his cheeks, and his eyes are red.

  But I can’t cry, because I don’t believe it. This isn’t happening. It’s like a bad dream that I can’t wake up from.

  “I need to see her,” I demand, unable to comprehend any of this.

  But when the woman leads us into the cold, sterile room, and I see the body on the table covered by a thin sheet, my heart is flayed open.

  Kiley’s cell phone is in a plastic bag on the table beside her, along with a health card with her name on it.

  Kane is beside me, and his breath sounds choked.

  I feel the same way, like there’s not enough oxygen in the room. Like it’s me lying on that cold metal table, and if I could change reality, it would be.

  But then the woman pulls the sheet down, and the air returns to my lungs.

  “Shit,” Kane says, staggering backward.

  “It’s not her,” I rasp. “That’s not Kiley.”

  The doctors look between us, frowning.

  “I don’t know who that is, or why she has Kiley’s phone and ID,” I say. “But that’s not her.”

  Kane has buckled over, hands on his knees. “Then where the hell is she?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kiley

  “Miss, can you hear me?” A paramedic crouches in front of me. “Are you hurt?”

  I look down at my hands covered in Amy’s blood. “It’s... it’s not my... mine.”

  “Okay. But I’d still like to check you out.” She helps me stand, and when I do, my legs give out a little. Another paramedic is beside me, and they help me walk.

  We’re somewhere in the college, a lab of some kind, but I don’t remember getting here. I just remember running, people screaming, hands pushing me, gunshots being fire - and Cruz’s voice.

  Calling for me.

  Taunting me.

  “Whe-where is he?”

  “Who?” The female paramedic frowns at me as she leads me toward an ambulance.

  It’s dark now, and there’s yellow tape everywhere, along with camera crews and crowds of people.

  “The...” I swallow, having a hard time putting a sentence together. “The shooter.”

  “The police got him,” she says. “You’re safe now.”

  I don’t feel safe. I feel exposed, raw, and cold straight to my core, and all I want is to be in Blake’s arms. That’s where I feel safe. The only place I’ve ever, truly felt protected.

  And I pushed him away.

  “I need my phone,” I say, panic building when I can’t find it.

  “Just sit here,” she tells me, helping me into the back of an ambulance. “I’m going to take your vitals, then—”

  “Kiley.” It’s my brother’s voice I hear, and when I turn, I see the flood of emotions that fills him as he races toward the ambulance. He calls out, “Blake, she’s here,” before jumping into the cabin. His arms wrap around me, and I hear the relief in his voice when he mutters, “Thank fucking God, you’re all right.”

  He doesn’t let me go, not for a long moment, and the tears I’ve been holding back burst. I’m not sure how long I stay there like that, me sobbing in my brother’s arms, but when I pull back, I see Blake standing outside, a few feet away from the ambulance.

  His face is void of color when he steps up, into the now cramped space. I push away from my brother and let Blake pull me against him.

  This is where I feel safe - in his arms.

  “Excuse me, but you’re both going to have to leave,” the paramedic says. “I still need to examine her.”

  Kane steps off, but Blake doesn’t make any attempt to move. He cups my face, eyes searching mine. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

  I shake my head. “But... he shot Amy. I think she’s—”

  “Yeah.” He presses his lips to my forehead and
lets out an uneven breath. “I know. We saw her.”

  I frown up at him. “When? Is she…?”

  “She didn’t make it. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  In my heart, I already knew. I’d seen the life leave her eyes. But I’d hoped I’d been wrong.

  “She had your phone and for some reason your insurance card.” His throat bobs when he swallows, and I see a flash of something that looks like pure agony tug at his features.

  “My insurance card?” It takes me a second to understand. I’d left all of my things when I’d ran that night. She must have used my ID. It would explain the files Blake’s guy found.

  “The hospital thought she was you. I thought...” Blake chokes on the word, voice breaking.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him, palm resting on his chest.

  “Never letting you out of my sight again,” he mutters, each word filled with so much torment that I don’t even think about arguing with him.

  “Sir, you need to step off—”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he growls at the woman, arms wrapping protectively around me. The pure agony of his voice, the emotion, it rattles me.

  The paramedic looks ready to debate with him but must think better of it. Instead she focuses on me, “You have no injuries?”

  “No. I just want to go home.”

  She nods and as soon as she dismisses me, Blake lifts me in his arms.

  “I can walk.”

  He grunts. “I already told you, I’m not letting you go.”

  I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “So you’re going to carry me everywhere from now on?”

  “If I have to.”

  I glance over at my brother. “A little help here.”

  He shakes his head. “After what we went through tonight, I’m not arguing with him.”

  I glance up at Blake, and I understand the tortured look that has his features drawn tight. He thought I’d been shot. That I’d died.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “None of this is your fault.”

  “Not for that. For being so stubborn. You’re right, I do need you. I didn’t want to be weak...”

  He exhales heavily. “It’s not a weakness to need someone. God, Kiley, I need you too. When I thought...” His voice breaks. “I just need to get you home.”

  We’re all silent as we get in the car. Blake sits in the back with me, and Kane drives. The radio reports the shooting, naming Cruz as the shooter. He’s dead. It should be relief that fills me, and it does, but there’s also a heaviness inside my chest. A sadness.

  Ezra.

  Cruz.

  Amy.

  They’re all gone.

  But I don’t feel guilt anymore. It was their choices, their mistakes that lead to this. And as much as I wanted to protect Amy, I couldn’t.

  “It’s over,” I say softly, leaning against Blake, exhaustion consuming me.

  His lips press against the top of my head, and I fall into his warmth, cocooned in the strength of his embrace. I must fall asleep because when I open my eyes again, he’s carrying me into his apartment.

  “Sorry,” I mumble, groggily. Pax and Lady prance around Blake’s feet, whimpering like they know something bad happened.

  “Don’t apologize. You’ve been through hell today. Just sleep.”

  “I need to shower.” Need to get Amy’s blood off of me.

  He nods, taking me to the bathroom and setting me down, before turning on the water. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

  “Blake,” I stop him.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything and nothing,” I tell him.

  He steps toward me. “What can I do?”

  “Don’t leave.”

  He searches my eyes, then nods. Slowly, he helps me undress before stripping out of his own clothes. He helps me into the shower, and he uses shampoo to clean my hands, my arms, then gently washes my hair, fingers massaging my scalp.

  When he’s done, his arms wrapped around me, and we stand under the warm water for a long time.

  Images of the day flash through my mind, but I don’t push them away. I need to process everything, so I start to talk, telling Blake every small detail that happened.

  He flinches when I describe the sound of the first shot, and his body tenses when I tell him about running into the school and hiding.

  “I’m just glad you’re okay.” His chin rests on top of my head and I feel his whole body tremble.

  “Amy said something before Cruz shot her...”

  “What?” he pulls back, looking down at me.

  “She said that Lucy is still alive.”

  His jaw tics. “And you believe her?”

  “I’m not sure. But I need to find out.”

  “Okay.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anything you ask for, anything you need, you know I’ll give it to you.”

  They aren’t just words. I see the truth in his eyes. The intense need to keep me safe, to make me happy.

  “I thought it’d be easier to be away from you. That I was protecting myself... protecting you. But I was wrong.”

  “I’m the one who fucked up, Kiley.” He pushes my damp hair off my face. “I should have trusted you.”

  “I kept things from you. I know why you thought those things of me.”

  “You’re wrong. I didn’t believe it. I just let my fear control me, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  “I love you.”

  He kisses me, softly at first, but the kiss quickly becomes more. A need. Something essential.

  But I pull back. “Wait.”

  “Sorry,” he says, voice rough. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  “It’s not that...” I chew on my bottom lip. “No more secrets, right?”

  “Right,” he says, brows drawn down as worry creeps into his eyes.

  I glance away, feeling him reading me. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” One hand rests on my cheek and he guides my face to look at him. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything. I love you. No matter what.”

  I let out a shaky breath, and then the words tumble from my lips. “I forgot to get the morning-after pill. I didn’t do it on purpose. By the time I remembered, it was too late. It’s why I’ve been avoiding you. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was afraid you’d think—”

  “Kiley, stop.” A line forms between his brows and he leans closer, eyes searching mine. “Are you pregnant?”

  I nod, holding my breath and waiting for the anger and fear I know that’s about to come. But he doesn’t react. Not right away. He just keeps looking at me. And when he starts to speak, his words are controlled, like he’s carefully choosing each one.

  “I love you, sweetheart. And I’m not going to lie and say I’m not a tiny bit freaked out. I am. But mostly because I know your brother is going to kill me.” His lips lift slightly. “But there isn’t a future I see without you in it. I love you.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  He rests his forehead against mine. “God, no. I want a family with you, Kiley. I want to make a home. But if you’re not ready for this. If it’s not what you want. I’ll support you.”

  “I want it,” I tell him, overwhelmed by the emotions that fill me.

  A smile stretches across his face, even though I can tell he’s trying hard to contain it. “You’re going to have my baby.”

  “I’m going to have your baby.”

  His mouth is on mine again, his kiss removing all doubt, all fear.

  “I love you,” he murmurs, and I breathe in the words like they’re tangible. And for the first time, I let it sink in. I believe him. I let the truth of his love fill all the dark, empty spaces that I’d held onto so tightly.

  Accepted.

  Loved.

  Cherished.

  I’m all those things.<
br />
  His arms surround me, his kiss deep and drugging, lips slanting over mine as his tongue strokes and tastes. I need his touch, now more than ever. And hunger quickly forms between us. I can feel his own need grow, his hard length pressing against my belly.

  He lifts me so that my legs wrap around his waist. The strength of his arms make me feel safe. But it’s the strength of his love where I find what I’ve been searching for my whole life - happiness, hope... and most importantly, myself.

  “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.

  “For what?”

  “For not giving up on me.”

  His fingers are in my hair and the look he gives me is fierce. “You’re mine, Kiley. From the moment I saw you, I knew I’d never let you go. Tonight, when I thought...” Agony rips across his features. “I thought I lost you... God, I never want to feel that again.”

  I kiss him, taking his mind off the nightmare I can see playing in his eyes. “Make love to me,” I beg against his lips.

  He groans, and his kiss becomes more demanding. His touch possessive and yet tender. My back is against the warm tiles, and his fingertips stroke my breasts, feathering my nipple until it becomes a hard nub that sends sensations of pleasure straight to my core.

  Broken moans fill the air. His. Mine. And desperation fills me when I feel the thick width of his cock press against my folds.

  He eases inside me, heat spearing through my entire body as he penetrates me with slow, shallow thrusts.

  “Blake,” I whimper, holding onto him, my head tilted back, eyes closed.

  “Look at me,” he demands. “Need to see your eyes, sweetheart.”

  When I blink, I suck in a breath at the love I see in his gaze.

  “Marry me.” His voice is heavy, guttural. “Marry me, Kiley. You don’t have to answer me now, but—”

  “Yes,” I whisper, unable to breathe.

  His fingers lace with mine, his cock still wedged inside me. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He seats himself deeper, and pleasure ripples through my flesh. Pleasure that starts in my soul and radiates through every cell in my body. I hold his gaze and let myself be consumed by him, allowing the sensations to build to heights I’d been terrified to go.