Page 178 of Fighting Chance

want to talk about it?

KIERAN

I don’t think I’d be able to get the words out

Have you ever done something and immediately regretted it? Because I have. I’ve regretted what I said to Layla every day for the past three weeks.

I’ve regretted it on the days I come home and find her singing with Emmy in the kitchen, trying and failingnot to burn food. I’ve regretted it in the moments when she’s near and my fingers itch to touch her. I’ve regretted it when I lie awake and want to call her and tell her to come back, and most importantly, I regret it in the moments where I find her and Emmy curled up in the library room.

Because she belongs here.

At first, I was waiting. Every single charged moment of teasing, banter, and flirting, I would wait with baited breath that the tension would snap between us. That Layla would throw her arms around me and say that she thinks I’m good enough and that she cares for me, but that never happened.

Maybe I’m not good enough after all.

I haven’t slept since that night, and if I do, it’s plagued by dreams replaying the moment in the library over and over—Layla begging for me and my dumbass pulling back and saying no.

It was thatfuckingkiss.

I avoided kissing her because I knew it would be my ruining, but it felt so good. More than good, it was heaven on earth.

It was everything I ever dreamed about.

It was like cominghome.

I’ve never had a loving, stable, safe home before.

And the thought of finding my home, only to lose it…I wouldn’t be able to survive that type of loss. I wouldn’t be able to survive losingher.

Grayson’s stare is searing a hole in the side of my head.

I know he’s concerned, more than concerned—they all are. A throat clears from the table somewhere but I don’t care.

For some reason, the more I drink, the more I can’t take my eyes off my phone.

Is it weird that what I miss the most is Layla texting me chapters to read? And no, it’s not just about the sex scenes. She has no idea but I’d read the entire book every time. For fuck’s sake I read her favorite book and annotated it. I see her staring at the damn thing almost as much as I stare at her.

It showed me what she loved. She would light up from within, her cheeks glowing, her smile wide, when I talked about it with her. Every time I watched the shock flicker across her facewhen I’d mention something from one of the books was addicting.

I miss feeling close to her.

A balled-up paper napkin hits me square in the forehead. The glare I send Irving has his smile faltering.

“The fuck did you do that for?” I growl.

“You were zoning out.”

Johnson shakes his head. “Let the man be depressed, Irving.”

He looks genuinely hurt. “Why would we ever let him be sad? I don’t want him to be sad.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “I’m fine, Irving.”

“That’s a lie,” O’Connor mumbles around his beer bottle, his eyes never leaving the TV screen above our heads.

We found a bar to celebrate tonight’s win and yet for some reason, the celebrations are less rowdy than normal. I’m not sure if it’s Seattle, or maybe I really am bringing the mood down, but only half the team seems to be excited.

It’s a testament that Irving is sitting across from me and not in the bathroom stall with a puck bunny.