Page 9 of Second Shot

“Son.” The word is slurred, but there’s an agony, a desperation in that one word that slices through my heart. Because as much of an asshole the man was to his own kids, he’s been like a father tome.

I wonder what he’d think of me if he ever found out what happened between Brynne andI?

There was always an unspokenrule.

She was offlimits.

As cold and callous as he acted towards her, everyone but Brynne knew she was the fucking world tohim.

“Yeah,Coach?”

His eyes open briefly. “If you hear from her, you’ll let meknow?”

I give a brisk nod, knowing I’m the last person she’dcall.

Chapter 2

Brynne

In the passengerseat of Felix’s new Mercedes Benz, I rub my palms across the rough fabric of my jeans and let out a slow, steadying breath as the car pulls to a stop in the cemetery parkinglot.

My fist tightens around the flowers I brought. A bouquet of color conflicting with my mood, and the gray clouds that hang heavy aboveus.

Beside me, Felix turns the ignition off. He drags his hand through the dark, trimmed beard he’s had since I met him at an art exhibit he’d hosted on campus during my freshman year. Over cheap Merlot and a heated debate about the differences between neo-impressionism and post-impressionism, we’d become quick friends. One of the few friends I’d kept in contact with the past couple ofyears.

“You okay?” heasks.

“Yeah,” I lie, hating how pathetic my voicesounds.

I’m tired. And not just physically. Emotionally. Mentally. I’m exhausted, my secret a burden that’s become almost too difficult tobear.

Glancing over my shoulder, a small, sad smile tugs at my lips when I catch the profile of my son’s face. He’s still so tiny. Little fingers curl into tight fists, and his bow-like lips pucker in a sucking motion in hissleep.

He looks like Kane. My chest squeezes like it always does when I see the resemblance, because it’s a reminder that I can’t keep him to myself. One day soon, I need to stop being a coward and tellhim.

I’ve tried. Several times. But fear had paralyzedme.

Fear of facing himagain.

Fear that he’d want to be part of Noah’slife.

Fear that hewouldn’t.

Fear that, like Sam, I’d lose Noah,too.

“You sure you’re all right?” Felix asks, placing his large hand over mine, dark eyes filled withconcern.

Felix is good looking in that clean-cut, GQ-like way, but he’s never been more than a friend. And right now, that’s all I need. All I have time for. Not to mention that the small part of my heart that I actually let feel something was consumed years ago by a boy who could never love me back. A boy who would taint and destroy the only person who ever really cared aboutme.

“I’m fine.” I give his fingers a small squeeze, then pull away, breaking the intimacy he’s created. “Thanks fordriving.”

“Anytime. Anything you and Noah need, I’m here foryou.”

He’s proven it. Driving me to doctors’ appointments, lending me money when I was late on rent, even getting me an exhibition night at Gwen Siders’ nextmonth.

That’s if I can finish something that doesn’t make people flinch and recoil into themselves when they seeit.

It isn’t that my paintings are bad. Technically, they’re flawless. But even I know that they’re lackingsomething.

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