Page 423 of Ruthless Court
“I know.”
“He’s trying.”
“I know.”
“And if I bring you…”
Kane sits beside me.
The mattress dips.
“If you bring me, what?”
I look at him.
“You’d be the present under the tree.”
His mouth twitches.
“Excellent wrapping required.”
“Kane.”
“Sorry.”
I pull one knee closer.
“He wouldn't see me.”
That removes every trace of humor.
I keep going.
“He’d see you.”
“The basketball player.”
“Not just any basketball player.”
I gesture at him.
“You.”
“Devastating.”
“The Kane Haverhill.”
He waits.
“The point guard he watches on television. The future first-round pick. The guy whose film he’d probably have pulled up before we finished appetizers.”
Kane’s jaw shifts.
I hate saying it.
“It wouldn’t be about me coming home anymore.”
His voice is quiet.
