Page 80 of Second Chance Faceoff

She pressed her lips together.

I took a small step forward.

“Look, I don’t have all the answers either.” I reached out—slow, steady—and caught her hand.

“But I know one thing—I want you. I want you to be a part of my life. I don’t care if that means flights back and forth, calls at weird hours, or figuring it out as we go. I just need to know if you’re willing to try. Because I’m all in.”

Riley swallowed hard. Her eyes met mine, and her voice came quietly. "Okay."

I blinked. "Okay? Okay what?"

She gave a shaky breath, lips lifting just slightly. “Okay… I don’t know how. I can’t promise I won’t freak out sometimes. But I want to try. To figure it out. With you.”

I closed the gap between us, cupping her face in both hands—steady, sure, like I needed her to feel how certain I was. And kissed her.

Her breath hitched as our mouths met, her hand tightening around mine like she needed something to hold onto. She kissed me back, fierce and unguarded, like she was done holding back.

The world dropped away. No flights, no teams, no headlines. Just the two of us..

My hands slipped down from her face. I gathered her to me.

Her hand slid up my chest. Her fingers twisting into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging just slightly—just enough to send a bolt of heat straight down my spine.

My grip tightened and my left hand glided slowly down, tracing the length of her spine, settling at the small of her back—pressing her closer like I needed her to know there wasn’t a single part of me holding back now.

She didn’t hesitate. Her other hand threaded through my hair.

It was messy. Breathless. Real. And for once, nothing about it felt temporary.

When I finally pulled away, our foreheads rested together.

“You have no idea,” I whispered, “how much I was hoping you’d say that."

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

Chapter twenty-three

Riley: Treats and Texts

Asoft, silvery haze slipped through the narrow windows of the office. Outside, the frost still clung to the corners of the rescue’s sign, and the low hum of the space heater filled the otherwise quiet room.

The rescue was still empty, the dogs not yet stirred from their early-morning calm. It was the kind of quiet that usually soothed me.

I sat at my desk, fingers wrapped around a chipped mug of coffee, letting the faint heat sink into my chilled hands. The folders in front of me—intake reports, grant applications, volunteer schedules—blurred into a single wall of clutter. My eyes weren’t on the screen in front of me. They weren’t on anything, really.

My mind drifted to last night. To the way his arms had wrapped around me. For a brief time, I wasn't thinking about his flight, the distance, the uncertainty.

I was enough.

He was holding me. That was enough.

I could still feel the warmth of his hand at the small of my back.

My phone lit up beside me with a soft buzz. A text.

I didn’t move right away. Just stared at the screen, heart ticking up. I already knew who it might be.

I know Janice is still out. I stashed some treats that Janice sneaks the boys in the back when you aren’t looking.

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