Page 16 of Taking The Shot

“Oh no…” she breathed, the horror settling in.

“She was seventeen—and a runaway,” he muttered, his tone raw, his hands gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment. “Her father couldn’t get me for rape because we hadn’t had sex yet, thankfully, but they still tried to pin me to the wall. She’d been with someone else,not me, and it showed up in the kit… but I still had to wait for the results. In jail. With a bunch of hardened criminals.An eighteen-year-old kid who didn’t know any better. It was a mistake.”

Constance felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her.

“Oh, Keith,” she whispered, her voice thick with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” he scoffed bitterly, letting out a hollow, humorless laugh. “I’msorry. When I was released because they had no evidence, they still charged me with public lewdness, inappropriate behavior with a minor, and a bunch of other things. So I hired a lawyer.Me. An eighteen-year-old kid scrambling to scrape together every cent I had from playing college hockey, just praying I wouldn’t get kicked off the team. And you know what happened?”

He lifted his gaze to hers then, and the depth of bitterness in his expression nearly took her breath away.

“My lawyer settled and I was convicted of them,” he spat the words like they tasted foul in his mouth. His jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a fist on the table. “I wanted a clean slate. I wanted my name cleared. But while I was sitting in a classroom, taking a freakin’ algebra exam, my attorney was in a courtroom, settling my casewithoutme.” He made finger quotes, his voice dripping with venom. “‘I wasn’t needed there.’ That’s what he told me.”

Constance swallowed hard, her heart pounding.

“He promised me it would all be expunged, stricken from my record. That no one would ever know what happened.” Keith let out a shaky breath, shaking his head. “And he didn’t do it.”

Her throat felt tight. “Keith…”

“I found out when I got signed to my first NHL team,” he continued, his voice like gravel. “Not only did the jerk fail to expunge my record, but he was disbarred for ethics violations.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh no…”

“And then he left the country,” Keith finished, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

She reached for his hand instinctively, but he pulled away, rubbing at his face again, his movements rigid with frustration.

“So when the paparazzi came sniffing around, when some nitwit looking for a payday dug up my past and blasted it everywhere. Every sports network, every news channel, every darn gossip site.” He let out a slow, pained exhale. “I wasn’t cut right away, but they made it clear I wasn’t sticking around. I finished the season, and then they traded me.”

His voice was hollow now, almost detached.

“I tried to sue for the convictions to be removed from my record, but they couldn’t find the girl to get her side, and my attorney had died from a drug overdose in El Salvador. It was there, stuck in my record for anyone to find, and I was traded again three years later to the Coyotes.” He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes dull, filled with something that looked too much like defeat. “Until now.”

Constance’s heart ached for him. He had carried this burden for so long, reliving it every time someone decided to drag it back into the light. And yet, he was still here. Still fighting.

She wanted to say something—anything—to take away the pain in his eyes. But there were no words big enough to undo the past. So, instead, she did the only thing she could.

She touched his hand, staying by his side.

“You never touched her?”

“No,” he whispered bitterly, his eyes shining with pain and unshed tears as he bared his soul. “I never slept with her. I never dated anyone after that because I was scared, and it’s ruined my life. It’s ruining it again, and I’m getting older. Not a lot of teams are willing to sign someone in their thirties, especially a washed-up guy with a reputation, Constance. This is my last shot.”

They just sat there, holding hands, silently.

“If I look you up right now…,” she whispered, hesitating warily, pointing at his phone, unable to finish the sentence for a moment. “You never touched her?”

“Never,” his throat bobbing as he swallowed, looking completely gutted. “I can bring it up for you if you want to read the court case. I think I have a copy in my safe at the apartment. I kept it in case it went back to trial again someday and…”

She inhaled deeply, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

“I believe you,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. The words trembled on her lips, her breath unsteady, shaking with the magnitude of what she was saying. Believing him meant trusting him. Trusting that he was telling the truth. Trusting that he wouldn’t break her. “Can I think about this?”

“Yeah.” His answer came quick, quiet, but firm. He wasn’t pressuring her, wasn’t demanding anything. He was giving her space, even when she could see how much it pained him.

She dragged in another breath, her chest tight. “This is a lot to process—and with my kids…” The thought of them twisted like a knife in her gut. It wasn’t just a marriage on the line here. It was their lives, too. She had to protect them, always. They were her world.

“I know,” he said, and something about the way he spoke made her believe him. His voice carried the weight of experience, of a man who understood what it meant to lose, to be cautious, to tread carefully. He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling roughly. “Trust me, I do know. Which is why I told you everything.”

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