Page 66 of Second Shot

I snort. “Yeah.”

“Always has been.” He wipes the side of his face, his color starting to return to normal. “If I could just talk to her. Explain…” Closing his eyes, he leans his head back. “Maybe she wouldn’t hate me asmuch.”

“She doesn’t hateyou.”

Hegrunts.

“I think she uses her anger as a shield not only to protect herself, but also Sam’smemory.”

Coach goes silent, pensive, the way he always does whenever I mentionSam.

“I always thought it was Brynne I had to worry about,” he says eventually. “She looked so much like her mother.” He runs his hands over his face. “And then there was her art…” His eyes gloss over and he shakes his head. “But it was Sam I should have been worriedabout.”

I wonder if Coach had ever talked to Sam or Brynne the way he speaks to me - open, honest, like an equal - if their relationship would have beendifferent.

“You can go,” he says dismissively, resignation heavy in hisvoice.

I’m emotionally and physically drained when I leave the arena, and I want nothing more than to go home, wrap my arms around Brynne, and kiss her until all the shittiness of the day is forgotten. But I still have to check in on Kiley. And every mile closer I get to the apartment, I can’t help but feel like there’s a bomb ready todrop.

But what else could possibly go wrongtoday?

Kiley is awake when I come into Blake’s apartment. She’s sitting up on the couch, with a steaming mug in her hands. Her one good eye widens when she sees me, and I swear the girl pulls tighter intoherself.

“Hey, kid,” I say, sitting on the coffee table in front of her and placing my forearms on my thighs. “Looks like you’re feelingbetter.”

She nods, and glances over atBlake.

She reminds me of a bird. Fragile and nervous, ready to take flight the second she’sspooked.

I realize now that I don’t have to worry too much about Blake, because I doubt she’ll be here come morning. Her fight or flight response is on high alert, and there’s no fight left in thegirl.

“Want to tell me whathappened?”

“I-I told Blake. I gotmugged.”

Bullshit.

I sigh. “So, you don’t know the person who did this toyou?”

She shakes herhead.

“Do you think you would recognize them if you saw themagain?”

“It was dark…” Her tongue darts over her cracked bottomlip.

She’s protecting someone, or she’s too scared of what they’ll do if she goes to thepolice.

“Can’t help you if you don’t tell us thetruth.”

Her fingers tremble around themug.

“I am telling you the truth,” she whispers, not meeting mygaze.

“Kiley,” I say gruffly, making herflinch.

“Kane,” Blake says my name behind me, and there’s a warningthere.

I rub my palms on my pants, thenstand.

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