Page 107 of Second Chance Player

“You would come here? To me?” he asks, his tone filled with unmistaken surprise but also laced with hope.

“Yes.”

“That’d be real nice,” Dad answers immediately. “You should come for a late lunch. I can whip something up for you,” he says, sounding excited. I was right.

“Thanks, Dad,” I say. “Can you text me your address?”

“Sure, Son.” I hear his voice crack. Something inside me cracks too. It feels a whole lot like a wound that never healed over.

“See you soon,” I say to my dad.

I checked into a hotel here in the city. I’m getting ready to leave when my phone rings, and Skylar’s name lights my screen.

Shit.

“Hi, baby,” I say.

“Don’t hi baby me,” she snaps. “Why aren’t you on the ice?”

“That’s an interesting question.” I sigh.

“Don’t play games with me, Liam Bozeman. Tell me what’s going on right now,” she insists.

I blow out a breath and look up at the ceiling. Oh boy. I was hoping to confess the situation after the fact.

“Skylar, relax,” I soothe.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you say anything?” I hear the anxiety rising in her tone.

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt. You know how Flynn said we might need to take matters into our own hands?”

“Yes,” she says quietly.

“The plan involved me,” I admit. “I’m in Chicago. Carter is playing here tonight.”

“Liam, I don’t want you doing anything stupid. I don’t need you getting into any trouble,” she pleads. “Not for my sake.”

“Baby, I love you.”

She sighs. “I love you too, which is why I don’t need you getting involved with Carter. He is not okay in the head, Liam.”

She is so completely adorable and amazing.

“Baby, I need you to trust me because I don’t want to talk on the phone about these things. I’ll be back in the city in a couple of days. I don’t want you to worry. I’ll call you later tonight, but I just need you to take a deep breath and relax. I got you, Skylar.”

“You got me?” she asks, and her voice cracks.

“I got you, baby, but I need to hear you trust me.”

“I trust you,” she says, and I hear the tears in her voice.

“You and Crew go watch the game and root for my boys. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“You better,” she insists.

“I should go now,” I say.

“Be careful. I love you,” she responds.

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