Page 66 of False Start

We couldn’t give up a solid month’s worth of visits with them to train. It was too much for their little hearts and feelings, and with the battle ahead, we needed a constant reminder of what we were fighting for.

We needed more of the kids, not less.

Well, shit.

I fired up my car, aimed the vents away from me until my little sedan heated up, what meager heat it chugged out, and rolled out of town.

Despite the sun and cloudless sky, the cool temperatures helped the towering pines along Route One cling to the blanket of snow draped over their limbs.

I didn’t need directions. Everyone, even a transplant like me, knew where to find Bishop Farm. Priest’s family had been a fixture in this town for generations. The once-dairy farm hadn’t seen cattle in decades, but now had expansive gardens that supplied local restaurants, helping hold on to their locally grown pride.And the transformation throughout the generations, through the decades, hung in old grainy photos in various local diners, shops, and even in Banked Track.

Those gardens languished for a short time after Stella Bishop died, but before long, Lilith moved to the farm, hired help, and in three years managed to get them flourishing once again.

I knew that story of the Bishops.

Hell, if I knew much else. Again, that whole difficulty pulling information from the tight-ass coach.The timing of the scandal didn’t help.

I’d just lost my mom.

I didn’t care about anything happening in Galloway Bay; I was too busy fighting to stay.

My skin prickled as I pulled up to Bishop Farm a half hour before the rest of the team.

What was it like to have this connection to a place? To people? To a town?

To have generations of family, traditions, and memories to cherish when life kicked you in the tits?

And once you had it, how the hell did you ever walk away?

The two-story white house came into view. Flanked by two chimneys trickling with tufts of smoke, it stretched toward a massive red barn with the added length of additions over the years, eventually ending at the newest section—a two-story two-car garage.

Heavy green window boxes covered in snow lay empty, but spilled colorful blooms from early spring until after Halloween.

The kind of house you only saw in idyllic Christmas cards.

The kind of place you wanted to get cozy, wrap up in a quilt, and watch the snowfall outside the quiet picture window for hours.

The kind of house I’d never had.

I gulped back an embarrassing wave of longing and tightened my hands on the wheel.

I’d planned to arrive with my team to bridge the gap between their hostile wariness and his reluctance. But after a kiss that was better than all the good sex I’ve ever had combined—including the sex with myself—I needed to see him alone.

We had some ground rules to establish.

My tires crunched and squeaked over the snow as I pulled up next to his truck. I caught a glimpse of his Massachusetts plates, a shiny, white reminder this was temporary.

This would all be over eventually, and I’d go back to my biggest worry of keeping Milton and Gerald from killing one another, the next derby season, and building Rylee’s confidence.

I should probably add building a few boundaries with Eve to that list too.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I eyed the open door to the barn on the hill.

“He’s up there already.”

I snapped around and found Lilith leaning out the screen door, the frame propped on her round belly. Her smile had been dialed to the required politeness, but the way she narrowed her eyes, her brows wrinkled as her gaze swept over me and suspicion stamped all over it.

“You’re Maisy,” she said. No question and not quite accusation. But salty.

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