Page 58 of Second Goal

Blake’s nostrils flare and the muscles in his jaw bounce, but he nods and slowly releases me. “Okay.”

I can see the war in his eyes. He wants to argue with me. And there’s a part of me that wants him to fight. But as I walk away, I know it’s what I have to do. Because I need a man who doesn’t just love me but also trusts me.

Chapter Seventeen

Blake

“What do you think?”Kane asks, coming out to meet me on the large stone patio of the seven thousand square foot ranch he and Brynne are thinking of putting an offer on.

“It’s a little pretentious,” I tell him, taking in the giant yard with the custom-built playhouse in the back corner. “Suits you perfectly.”

He grunts, grinning at me. “Fuck off. Seriously though. Is it too much?”

“No. It’s perfect.”

“I think we’re going to put an offer on it tonight.”

“That’s quick. You’ve only been looking for three weeks.” I know, because that’s how long it’s been since Kiley told me she needed space. Three long, fucking weeks.

But I’m trying to respect her wishes, even though I feel like my insides are being shredded every time I see her, and she won’t meet my gaze, every time we’re in the same room together and I can’t touch her.

I know I fucked up. Coming at her like that, practically accusing her of all the things I’d always defended her to Kane about. It was shitty. Worse than shitty, it was cruel. I did the one thing I promised her I’d never do - I hurt her. And I’m not sure how the hell I’m supposed to make up for it. Especially when she won’t talk to me.

“How’s Kiley doing?” I ask.

Kane frowns. “Why don’t you ask her?”

I rub the back of my neck. “I fucked up... again. She’s not talking to me.”

“Then apologize.”

“I did. She said she wanted space, so that’s what I’m giving her.”

Kane lifts a brow at me and snorts.

“What?”

“Just from my experience, when a woman says she wants space, what she’s usually asking for is for you to fight for her.”

“That’s what I’ve done for the last two years.”

“Sure, you’ve watched out for her. I’ll give you that. But fighting for her is totally different.”

I scrub my hands over my face and mutter a curse under my breath. “She already thinks I’m a possessive, overbearing asshole. How the hell do I fight for her and not be those things.”

Kane slaps my shoulder and chuckles. “Trial and error, buddy.”

The back patio doors open, and the realtor walks out. I can see she’s star-struck when her gaze drifts between me and Kane, and when she gives me a flirty smile, I turn my back on her.

She clears her throat and addresses Kane, “Is your wife coming?”

“She’ll be here soon,” he tells her, then says to me, “You want my advice?”

“Maybe. Depends on the advice.”

He grunts. “Fight for her before it’s too late and she moves on.”

I narrow my eyes. “You know something I don’t.”

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