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

by Jasmin Miller

  “Yeah, me too.” Ryan’s always been the most somber in our group, which probably comes from him being older than the rest of us, but I’ve never heard his voice break like this.

  “I’m so sorry, man.” Hunter comes over to the other side of me. “I would’ve never guessed this by looking at her. She looks so normal and happy.”

  And isn’t that just a kick in the balls? To have someone so positive and joyful fall apart on the inside? It’s not fair. It’s so not fucking fair.

  Even though she just came back into my life, I can’t imagine a world without a bright light like her. It’s impossible. She doesn’t deserve this. None of it.

  The heat behind my eyelids turns up a notch, making my eyes burn hotter. Shit, I can’t remember the last time I cried in front of people.

  I bring my hands to my face and rub over my eyes.

  The guys give me space, and I don’t think there was a time I was more grateful for them.

  We’ve been friends for so long now, being there for each other throughout our careers, celebrating each other's wins, and commiserating over our losses.

  And to think I thought that was the most important thing in my life, to win, to be successful. All while she was literally fighting for her life, not even knowing how much longer she had to live.

  Although, she still doesn’t really have a clue, does she?

  Could her body decide right now that it doesn’t want her heart anymore? Or something else could go wrong with it?

  “Babe?” The front door closes, and several pairs of footsteps come closer.

  “Crap. Let me talk to Em. I’ll be right back.” Jace pats my back once and leaves my side.

  I focus on breathing, inhaling and exhaling at a rhythm that blankets me in familiarity, calming me.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Ryan’s voice sounds more normal than before but he still keeps it quiet.

  When I think I’ve got it all under control, I slowly raise my head and sit back. I still don’t have it in me to look one of them in the eyes though. I can’t see their pity and pain right now. It’s too much. “I don’t think so. I still only know the basics and what info I could find online. She’s taking good care of herself as far as I know.”

  “That’s good at least.”

  “Buddy, wait.” Jace’s voice comes closer, but it looks like he wasn’t fast enough because a second later, Tanner runs into the living room and jumps on the couch between me and Ryan.

  “Hey, guys.” Cute Tanner, with his curls and his big smile.

  Jace’s son.

  I want a son.

  “Sorry.” Jace comes to snatch Tanner who pretends to eat his dad.

  I watch them like I’ve done so often before, and then my eyes land on Millie, Jace’s wife, who’s expecting their first child together. Her hand is clasped over her mouth, her eyes shiny as she looks straight at me.

  Fuck.

  I have to look away.

  But the image of her is stuck in my head. But not of her sadness, but of her being pregnant, showing the first hints of a belly. The image morphs into something else, into someone else.

  Chloe, a pregnant Chloe smiling at me, carrying my child.

  I never wanted anything else in my life this badly.

  And why the fuck did I have to work that out when the girl I’ve always seen in my future may not even live for the next two years? Fuck. My. Life.

  Twenty-Five

  Chloe

  I haven’t heard from Noah since our text messages yesterday. Why does that seem like such a long time ago?

  The need to be with him is slowly creeping toward previous—and crazy—teenage levels. When you just want to be with the other one. To be their person. To want them to want you as badly as you want them. Day and night.

  I told my mom last night what happened and she reminded me about what several therapists have told us before, both individually and together. First, when I went through my health issues, then when we were told about Dad’s cancer and learned we’d lose him soon, and then when we lost him. Many therapy sessions over the years.

  Grief is different for everyone, and we need to allow people to go through their own process. As long as it’s in a healthy and safe way.

  I dropped an enormous bomb on Noah, one he couldn’t have seen coming from a mile away. And all of that right after we had amazing sex.

  Talk about going from a high to a low.

  It might take some time for him to come to terms with my situation. With everything that entails.

  And I know that because my whole family has had to grieve several losses, something else Mom and I discussed. Not just my grandfather’s death blackened those days all those years ago. My parents were grieving the possibility that their daughter would die before them. So many tears. So many moments of sheer agony. And then Mom and I again walked through a dark, dark time when Dad was diagnosed.

  Part of me doesn’t want to start the grieving process again with Noah, but I do want his friendship. I’d hate to lose him as a friend now that I just got him back.

  Of course, I’m insanely attracted to him still, and I don’t mind enjoying some physical benefits from our . . . friendship, but only if we can both handle it.

  And isn’t that the sore spot? Because I’m not sure we handle it, but then, I don’t think I could deal with more either.

  When it comes down to it, wasn’t this exactly the reason why I lied to him back then? Because I didn’t want to derail his life with my issues? Because he deserves everything he wants without being held back by me?

  Are things better now for me? Yes, and no.

  Ugh. All of this is ridiculously frustrating, and I let my feet hit the asphalt a little harder than necessary.

  Normally going for a walk helps, but it doesn’t seem to work today, which sucks. I really wanted to clear my head before I go to the hospital.

  I stop and put my hands on my hips. Huffing and puffing about this won’t make anything better. When the wind blows in my face, I close my eyes.

  Trying to relax, trying to get rid of all this anxiety.

  When I feel marginally better, I continue and turn into my street—our street—just as two cats race past me. At least one of them is letting out a terrible noise.

  What on earth? The noise shrills through the air once more. Goodness, that doesn’t sound normal. Are they okay, or is one of them in danger and needs help?

  I run after them, across the street, where they disappear behind Noah’s yard gate.

  Dang it.

  Should I let them be, or should I check on them?

  I rattle on the gate, and of course, it’s locked.

  The noises that definitely sound like painful wails to me don’t seem to have left Noah’s yard. Shit.

  Did one cat get the other one and is attacking it now in earnest?

  Ugh. Somehow I just know I’ll regret this, but I can’t let a cat massacre happen on my watch.

  So, with all the finesse I possess, I jump up to grab the top of the gate and try to pull myself up.

  It takes me several tries to heave myself all the way to the top, but I eventually manage.

  Mental note: Add more upper body exercises to my workout plan.

  When I finally get to the top—with my stomach resting against the top of the gate—I rest for a moment to catch my breath.

  “Mmm, Chloe?” Noah’s voice comes from behind me, and I close my eyes.

  Might as well die of mortification right up here.

  My ass is probably right at his eye-level.

  How embarrassing, seriously.

  Then the cat noises sound again and I wiggle around, just to realize that I’ve somehow gotten my shirt stuck at the top.

  What is this? The “make Chloe’s life miserable” show? When all I wanted was to help.

  “Hurry up and open the gate so we can check on the cats. It sounds like they’re murdering each other.”

  He clears his throat. “Uh, you want me to
open the gate while you’re hanging on it?”

  “I’m stuck,” I mumble and huff.

  “You’re stuck? Let me help you down.”

  “Yes, please.” It can’t get worse than it already is, right?

  “Okay. One sec. I’m going to grab you by your thighs and hold you up so you can let go at the top and get your shirt unstuck, yeah?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Wrong.

  Bad idea.

  Bad, bad idea.

  Because Noah does hold me by the thighs, exactly the way he said. What I didn’t think about though is that the second I lean back to take care of my shirt, I push back my butt.

  Yup, right in his freaking face.

  This seems to be the day that keeps on giving.

  I shake my head. “I’m so sorry.”

  He mumbles something that is completely muffled because, well, his face is pretty much pressed into my butt that is only covered by thin workout leggings.

  Either he hasn’t gotten the memo that I can’t hear him, or he keeps doing it on purpose, but man, it tickles. Which makes me wiggle around more, probably pushing my behind even more in his face.

  I chuckle. “Stop it, right now.”

  With one final yank, I finally get my shirt free, and the momentum of the movement almost makes us fall backwards like a bad circus act.

  I try to steady myself on the fence to make it easier to slide down Noah’s front this way, only to get stuck on a hard bump for a moment. And then I’m past it and land on the floor, Noah’s hands immediately reach out to steady me.

  “What did I just get stuck on? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry.” I turn around and look him up and down until my gaze gets stuck on the front of his jogging pants. And the very obvious bulge. Right there, in front of me. Like it’s saluting me. “Oh . . . Wow . . . Mmm . . . Sorry.”

  Noah chuckles and puts a finger under my chin to tip it back. “Hey.”

  I blink up at him. Inhaling his fresh scent, noticing his wet hair. And then I blink again. “Hey.”

  His thumb brushes over my cheek before moving to my lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I left you yesterday.”

  And then his lips are on mine. Rough and demanding. He pushes against me and together we move backward until he has me pressed against the gate. I’m up on my toes, my fingers intertwined behind his neck, pulling on his short hair. His hard length hits the right spot between my legs, and I barely bite back a moan.

  Holy crap, this is hot.

  His mouth leaves mine and he moves over to my ear. “Are you wet for me?”

  The words hit my sensitive ear, and I shiver.

  Since when does he dirty talk?

  If I wasn’t wet before—which I totally was—I would have been now.

  When I open my mouth to reply, a loud whistle sounds through the air, snapping me out of this hormone-induced trance. It’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water on me. Noah takes a step back, with his back still toward the street, and adjusts himself in his pants.

  Damn it, even that is hot.

  Why do I feel like my 14-year-old sex hormones just woke up?

  I peek around him until I see Bessie and Agnes across the street. Waving, and grinning like two fools. I think Agnes might actually be fanning herself rather than waving.

  Lifting my hand, I grin and hope it doesn’t look like I’m constipated. “Hey, ladies.”

  “Well, hello there, Miss Chloe. And Noah?” Bessie grins like a Cheshire cat. Of course, she knows it’s him.

  Noah chuckles and slowly turns around. “Hey, Mrs. B.”

  Both ladies look left and right before they cross the street.

  Agnes huffs when they get to us. “Did you see our cats by any chance? They took off earlier like the devil’s after them, and we haven’t been able to find either of the two.”

  Noah coughs awkwardly. “Chloe followed some cats to my house, so why don’t we go to the backyard and check it out.”

  He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocks the gate, opening it wide. “After you, ladies.”

  Agnes and Bessie take the lead, and when I turn to follow them, Noah slaps my butt.

  I yelp before glancing over my shoulder at him.

  The urge to stick out my tongue at him like I’ve done so many times before is almost impossible to resist. Especially when he looks so carefree like he does right now. So normal, like yesterday didn’t even happen.

  I almost bump into Agnes when I round the corner, who has her hand over her mouth, while Bessie giggles next to her.

  Noah comes up behind me—a little too close—and snickers. “Well, I guess we found your cats. Looks like they’re busy though.”

  We all just stand there and stare at the scene a few feet in front of us. Just as the black and white cat that’s on top thrusts once more before pulling back. Which results in the tabby cat jumping up from her position and attacking the other one. All while screeching at the top of her lungs.

  Two seconds later, they sprint past us and out the gate again.

  Our elderly neighbors go after them and we follow.

  Noah shuts the gate behind us before coming over to where we stare down the street. “Do you want us to come with you?”

  Bessie waves him off. “Nah, I bet they’ll go back home. You know, now that they’re done and all. We just wanted to make sure they didn’t get run over during their crazies. But I’ll let you know if we need your help, thank you.”

  They both wave as we watch them cross the street where Agnes turns around once more with a snicker. “You kids continue to enjoy your time together. Sorry for interrupting you earlier.”

  “We will, thanks. Have a good day, ladies.” Noah smiles and waves back.

  I hit him on the chest. “Oh my gosh, you’re so bad. They probably think the worst of us.”

  “If by worst you mean how it feels to have a case of blue balls, they might be onto something.”

  I cover my face and bump against his chest, giggling. “Stop it.”

  “Only if you admit that your panties are wet.”

  I pull back and stare up at him. “Mmm . . . it’s getting late. I better get ready to go to the hospital.”

  “Want to carpool?”

  “Sure.” I get my keys and bounce them against my leg. “Give me five minutes to get changed into my painting clothes.”

  “And to change your panties?” The crooked smile he gives me is killing me.

  It also makes me want to jump him right here, right now.

  I bite my lower lip and mumble a quick, “You wish,” before I spin around and walk across the street.

  Of course, I change my panties, because one thing’s for sure: it will always be Noah Winter who my body wants.

  Twenty-Six

  Noah

  “I think my arm is going to fall off soon.” I put my paintbrush on the floor and stretch my upper body.

  “Oh you poor baby. Is a little painting too much for big, old Noah?” Chloe pouts next to me, her eyes filled with mirth.

  I love when she’s playful.

  “What?” Her voice does this little hitch thing it does when she’s embarrassed or unsure about something. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  My mind goes back to our conversation, and I chew the inside of my cheek. “Just wondering what I should do with you for being so sassy.” I lean closer. “For being so naughty.”

  I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath, or the way a small shiver runs through her body.

  I give her nose a kiss before picking my paintbrush back up and continuing to color in the animals she outlined so beautifully. If we can get some good work in over the weekend, especially if Hunter will help too, I think we might be able to finish up. The hardest work was definitely transferring Chloe’s concept to the wall, and she did most of that by herself.

  What we’re doing now is mostly a glorified paint-by-numbers, or at least, that’s what I’m doing. Chloe wrote down the pai
nt numbers for me on the animals, so I know what paint to use and don’t have to stop her every few minutes to help.

  “What did you have in mind?” Her question throws me off.

  “For what?”

  “For a punishment.” Her gaze stays on the wall in front of her, her paintbrush not once losing its spot.

  And then her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

  Little minx.

  Oh . . . if she wants to play, we can play.

  My paintbrush goes in the dark green once more before I continue my work on one of the smaller turtles. She added numbers for a whole bale of them for me. They look amazing, even though I’ve drawn outside the lines more than once already, but Chloe always comes to the rescue, right there to help with my mishaps.

  “So you do want to get punished?” I finish with the green and clean my brush to continue with some brown, and next some red and yellow to fill in the patterns on the shell and the body of the turtles.

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  I can feel her eyes on me, but I stay strong, and don’t look her way. “On what the punishment is and if I’ll like it.”

  Fuck. I don’t need a hard-on at the children’s hospital. There aren’t a lot of people left, but a few are still milling around for their late afternoon appointments. But no one needs to witness this disaster in the making if I can’t get a handle on my dick soon.

  Or someone’s hands . . . or mouth.

  Shit, what’s wrong with me? This is so not helping.

  Let’s think about cute baby turtles. There’s little Squirt right in front of me.

  Couldn’t get much more adorable than that.

  I swallow repetitively before I clear my throat too. Pathetic. “Well, I guess you can find out later if you want.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Sure.” There. I sound totally nonchalant, like I don’t have a care in the world. And there’s definitely nothing to see here in this roped-off area, people. “Want to grab dinner when we’re done?”