Page 24 of Shot on Goal at a Second Chance
“Becks, who is it?” Concern laces her voice, knocking me back to my senses.
“It’s Zach.”
“Ohhhh, does he have flowers and a ring?”
I blurt out a laugh. “Not likely.”
“Or very likely.” Her voice comes across as a hesitant whisper.
But her serious tone stops me from opening the door. “What do you mean?”
“Sis… Zach came back not long after he left.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. You weren’t home, but I was. He showed up at our door with a bouquet and a ring. Dad wouldn’t even let him in the door.”
I cover my mouth with my fingers, struggling not to cry. “I don’t understand.”
“Dad told him you were better off without him.”
“Why would Dad do that?” I knew then my father never approved of Zach, but to do that and not tell me? To not let me make my own decision? If he were still alive, he’d definitely be getting a phone call from me tonight.
“He wanted to protect you. He thought you’d give up your dream to follow Zach.” She sighs. “Sorry to dump that on you now, but you needed to know.”
Zach knocks again. What am I going to say to him now that I know? Does it even matter after all these years? The past can’t be undone, but at least now I know that Zach didn’t just toss me aside.
“You better get that before he leaves. Again.”
“Kayla?” I take adeep breath.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for telling me.”
“Sure thing. Now, open the door and let your future in.”
CHAPTER 12
Zach
Would I call showing up at Rebecca’s door impulsive? Definitely.
Showing up with a bottle of champagneandher favorite dessert? That might qualify as a full-blown moment of temporary insanity. At least, I hope custard-filled donuts are still her favorite. After I made sure she got home safely, I went on a mission to find them.
The lights were still on at the local bakery—apparently, the owner was teaching a late-night baking class. I knocked. Turns out they were learning the art of donut-making, and the owner had custard chilling in the fridge. Talk about fate.
By the time I walked out, the entire group was cheering for me.
No pressure or anything. Just a room full of strangers invested in my love life—our love life. I may have to steer Rebecca clear of Bake My Day so we don’t end up on the menu as the dessert special.
Now, standing in front of her door, my heart’s pounding harder than the deciding game in a playoff series. I’ve knocked twice, and I think I heard voices after the second one.
What if she’s not alone? The thought of her with someone else?—
I’m saved from going any further by the sound of the doorknob turning. The door cracks open, and there she is.
She’s wearing one of those soft lounging sets—matching top and shorts in a pale, buttery fabric that probably feels as soft as a cloud. Her hair’s up, her feet are bare, and she looks like home and heartbreak all at once.
