Page 130 of Kiss Me Tonight

The sound of footsteps jerks my head up, and I scramble off the narrow cot to wait by the caged door to plead my case.It better not be Rick again for round three.

“Hello!” Resigned to the fact that I’ve officially hit rock bottom at the ripe old age of thirty-seven, I rattle the bars. “Hey! Hey, Officer—please, I’m sorry. You have to understand how sorry I am.” The footsteps grow louder, nearer. “I need to make a phone call. Doesn’t everyone get one call? I need to—”

Like the son of Lucifer himself, Dominic saunters into the small hall outside my cell. Dressed in all black, he swirls a key around one finger, looking relaxed and amused and—Oh, my God, he isnotwhistling right now.

But he is, and he’s whistling a tune I know all too well.

Five Finger Death Punch’sBad Company—the song I made his personal ringtone after the day Topher crashed my car into his truck.

The whistling stops, and then Dominic catches the keys mid-swing.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low, “I never thought I’d find myself in lockup again after my last stint. But here we are—mind if I take a seat?” He points to a bench that looks like it’s seen better days.

Not that it stops him from sitting down anyway. The bench’s legs whine, protesting the onslaught of Dominic’s bulky weight, but he only pats the empty space beside him and tests its strength by shimmying his lower half, the same way he did up on The Monster to mess with me.

Slowly, succinctly, I force the words out of my mouth: “Are you here to save me?”

“Save you?” he echoes, straightening the bill of his black hat as he relaxes against the wall, his long legs sprawled out before him. He folds his hands over his flat stomach. “Nah, Coach, you save yourself every day. You don’t need me to play knight in shining armor. You’re a badass all on your own.”

Confused, I stare at him blankly. “Then why are you here?”

He swings those keys again, a taunting circle that catches my eye. “I’m gonna tell you a little story. That work for you?” The jangle of the keys stops when they hit his palm and he gestures to the bars. “Not that you can really go anywhere. It seems you’re at my disposal, baby.”

My eyes narrow on him as my fingers curl around the metal bars. “Dominic. . .”

“You know that I ended up behind bars because I robbed a corner store. What I didn’t tell you is that I did so at gunpoint. Yeah, I heard that gasp, Coach. It’s okay—we both already know I’m not up for a running at being America’s next sweetheart.”

He scrubs a hand along his jawline, and I track that move with my stomach twisting unpleasantly. I knew he’d been in trouble with the law in his youth—he’d told me himself and Google always comes through with a few strokes on the keyboard—but nowhere had I read . . .thatabout the gun.

Mouth dry, I edge out, “You never said how old you were.”

Dominic tilts his head slightly, those expressive dark eyes rooted to my face. “Eleven. Old enough to know better, young enough to think I wouldn’t get caught.” His hand falls to his thigh, the keys clattering like chimes blowing in the breeze. In here, behind these bars, it feels so very hard to breathe. “You take a kid who has nothing—has no one—and he’ll do just about anything to fit in. Don’t pretend you don’t see it with the kids you’ve coached over the last decade. Hope is a fragile thread, baby. You know that, too, don’t you? After living with a man like Clarke, hope is what kept you going.”

I lick my lips, wishing I had water to quench my suddenly parched throat. “Topher,” I rasp, “Topher is what kept me going.”

A small smile flits to his face, like my response is one that soothes him. “I had football.” He says it simply, without averting his gaze. “I had football and random people’s couches and a bike I stole from a junkyard to get me to and from practice. Until I ended up with Mr. and Mrs. Halloway after my last stint in juvie, I stole whatever gear I needed to play the game. Because football was my way out. Football was gonna save me, and that fragile thread of hope, Asp, it thickened. Strengthened.”

“But?” I whisper.

His gaze heats, the palm of his hand curling tightly around the keys. “But inside I was still that helpless little kid, abandoned by his mother in an apartment for twenty-seven days. Lonely. Starving. Unwanted.” His Adam’s apple bobs down the length of his throat. “I once read somewhere that a kid’s most formative years are from birth to twelve years old. Maybe that’s bullshit. Maybe it’s not. I don’t really know. All I know is that I’ve lived my life with hope in one hand and self-destruction in the other. I’ve traveled the world, I’ve played with the best athletes this country will ever see, and you know . . . you know the only thought I had when I came down wrong on my leg?”

I don’t need to ask him to elaborate about what he’s talking about.

Because I know the game of football inside and out.

Because the first time we met, I was watching that 2015 game at the Golden Fleece, and whispered, “Not even assholes deserve that.”

Aware that I’m clinging to the metal bars like I’m on the verge of attempting to crawl through the narrow slats, I take a deep, stabilizing breath. Then, “Make me see.”

It’s what I told him when he sat down in my courtyard and bared a corner of his soul.Let me in, my hearts sings now.Trust me.

Jaw tight, Dominic confesses, “Let me die.”

I whimper, hands closing over my mouth because I can see the truth in his searing gaze. I hear it in the dark rumble of his voice, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Pressure builds behind my eyelids, but still Dominic doesn’t stop.

He gives me no reprieve.

“That fragile thread of hope was gone. I was tired. Fucking exhausted with being in my head and wondering why I could have everything at my fingertips—money, houses, cars, women—and none of it mattered. I rode a bike down Devil’s Road, half hoping I’d crash and burn. I climbed a mountain in China, wondering with every other step if the plank of wood beneath my feet would crumble and give out. But roaches”—he lets out a dark, caustic laugh—“they stick around. They survive, even when nothing else does. And then I met you.”

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