Page 10 of Second Goal

My pain.

My guilt.

I sit up and dig my palms into my eyes, wishing I could scrub the memory from my brain. But not even time can erase what can’t be undone. I head to the shower, stepping in before checking the temperature. It burns. And I let it. Let the hot water scald me until the phantom fingers are no longer scratching at my skin.

When I step out and wrap a towel around my body, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Red, raw skin. Haunted eyes. A dark bruise on my arm where Cruz had wrapped his fingers around me yesterday. I swallow hard, remembering the threat that he whispered before disappearing.

I’d lied to Blake when I said the debt was paid. It’ll never be paid. Because no amount of money will ever make up for what I did. And Cruz will never let me forget.

I’ll never be free.

Not when he holds her hostage.

“Kiley?” my sister-in-law’s voice yells from the hallway. “Are you here?”

Shit. I forgot I was supposed to be watching my nephew today.

“Hey,” I call out, blinking away the memories. “I’m just changing. I’ll be right there.”

I pull on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then brush out my damp hair before meeting her in the living room.

Noah runs on wobbly legs when he sees me, chubby arms reaching out for me. “Kai-ee.”

A huge grin stretches across my face as I pick him up. “Look at how fast you’re getting.”

Brynne lets out a half sigh, half laugh. “You have no idea. I swear I’m about ready to cave and buy one of those kid leashes.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say, chuckling.

“He wants to run everywhere. Including the supermarket. Yesterday, I put him down for a second and he managed to cause a full-on collision between two shopping carts and a poor old lady in one of those mechanical scooters.”

“Trouble maker.” I tickle Noah and he gives a full belly laugh.

“I really appreciate you watching him for me.”

I let Noah down when he starts to squirm in my arms. He immediately goes straight to the only non-baby proofed thing in my apartment, a pair of scissors that I left on the coffee table when I’d been cutting out fabric for the new dress I’ve been working on.

I grab the scissors before he can, and when he starts to cry, I hand him a floppy-eared elephant from the box of toys I keep beside the couch.

Brynne holds up the half-finished sundress. “I love this color. I still can’t believe you make all your own clothes. I can barely sew a button onto Kane’s shirt.”

“It’s nothing. That pattern is pretty simple.”

“Simple for you. I don’t even know how to use a sewing machine.”

“I can teach you.”

She smiles. “I’d like that. You never told me how you learned.”

I shrug. “One of my foster moms taught me. Once I got okay at it, it was my job to make clothes for me and the other kids in the house.”

“That’s a big responsibility.”

“I guess. But I liked it. And honestly, it was one of the best homes I was in. Gloria was a saint compared to...” I blink away the images of some of my least favorite foster parents.

I wonder how different things would have turned out if Gloria hadn’t gotten sick and couldn’t take care of us anymore. As used to change as I was, I hated leaving that house, but I think it was harder on her than us kids when they came to take us away.

Brynne places a hand on my arm and gives a small squeeze. “If you ever want to talk about things, I can be a good listener.”

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