10. Isla #2
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. “I’m done for the day. Shep’s cooking dinner tonight. He and Seb want to meet you. That okay? Hop will be there too.”
I smile lovingly at the nicknames he has for his brothers. “Of course, whatever you need.”
Holy shit!
Dinner with the Haynes brothers?
Yes please!
“We can talk on the way.” He squeezes my hand. “I just...I need to get out of here.”
“Lead the way,” I tell him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze back, noting the way his hand is trembling slightly in mine.
As we walk through the stadium, I’m acutely aware of the eyes on us.
Players, coaches, staff—they’re all watching the Lagers’ starting pitcher with his mystery redhead.
We stop in the locker room just long enough for Killian to change out of his cleats and grab his wallet and keys.
And when we reach a long hallway stretching toward some bigger offices, I notice a few people at the far end dressed in suits.
Having no idea who they are or what they’re here for, I instinctively tug on Killian’s arm, which gets him to turn toward me.
“Hey…” I don’t know what pushes me to do it.
Maybe it’s the sheer panic I felt from him or the fact I don’t want anyone to think we’re not okay…
that Killian isn’t okay. I give him a soft, reassuring smile and cup his stubbled cheek in my hand. “Kiss me again. Right here.”
Or maybe I just liked the kiss the first time and kind of want to do it again. Can’t blame a girl for trying.
Either way, Killian heeds my instruction and parts my lips with his kiss, and holy fucking shit, his tongue just touched mine.
His lips are soft but the scrape of his stubble drags heat all the way up my face and into my hairline.
The brush of his tongue is fast and hungry, almost clumsy, like he’s been holding back for too long and now that the door is open he can’t quite decide what to do with himself.
His free hand finds the small of my back and presses me into him, all tight muscles and shaky exhales against my body.
And now here I am in a stadium hallway in front of God and suit-wearing executives wondering what kind of a lover Killian Haynes might be, given the way he kisses like the world is ending.
I mean, I’m not really wondering.
Because none of this is real anyway.
I’m just doing this to make a good scene in front of important decision-makers.
But if it were real…fuck.
A girl could become addicted to Killian Haynes’s mouth real fast.
We finally break apart and the first thing I notice is that Killian’s eyes are darker than usual in the bright hallway lighting.
“Jesus,” he groans, his forehead dropping to mine again. “That was...”
“Yeah,” I agree, because I can’t form a more coherent thought.
He pulls back slightly, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture that feels more intimate than the kiss itself. “We should probably...”
“Go,” I finish for him, still dazed. “Right. Can you take me home before we go to Shepherd’s? I’d like to change first.”
Killian nods, “Yeah. Me too. You don’t mind being with me?” The vulnerability in his expression guts me.
“What? No.” I tell him, shaking my head. “Not at all. We can leave my car in the lot. It’ll be safe here.”
He nods and then his hand finds mine again. “Thank you, Isla.”
“Of course.”
We continue down the hallway, the stares of the suited men following our every move.
When we reach them, Killian gives a curt nod and a professional smile as he simply says, “Gentlemen.” He lifts our combined hands and kisses the back of mine before guiding me around the corner and down the stairs to the parking garage.
When we reach the parking lot, he leads me to Diane and opens the passenger door for me.
“Thanks.”
Once he’s behind the wheel, Killian grips the steering wheel with both hands, his knuckles turning white. “FUCK!” He shouts, scaring me a little. For a long moment, he just sits there, staring straight ahead.
After giving him a minute of silence, I place my hand gently on his forearm. “Talk to me, Killian.”
He takes a deep breath, then another before he finally says, “I overheard someone from the front office talking about a possible trade today.”
“What? Who?”
His voice rough. “I heard them say something about ‘restructuring the team’ and someone said my name.”
“That can’t be right,” I say, even though my heart is currently falling into my stomach. “Did you hear the full conversation?”
“No. I didn’t want to stick around but I heard enough of it.” His jaw tightens.
I turn in my seat to face him more fully. “Killian. Look at me.”
He does, but I wasn’t prepared for the rawness in his hazel eyes. “You don’t know the full context of what you heard,” I say carefully. “I’m sure front offices talk about restructuring all the time. It’s a business. It doesn’t always mean what it sounds like.”
“Isla.” My name in his mouth comes out flat and tired, like he’s too exhausted to argue but also too exhausted to agree. “I know this organization. I know how they move. When they start talking about restructuring in the same breath as a player’s name, it means something.”
I don’t push back again because I can hear in his voice that he’s not catastrophizing and he’s not spiraling. This is different. This is the quiet, certain dread of someone who’s been in this world long enough to recognize the writing on the wall.
“Okay,” I say softly. “So, what’s the plan? What did Bishop say?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t tell Bishop.”
“What? Why not? He’s your brother.”
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell him,” he explains. “They can fuck with me all they want but the moment they fuck with my brother’s game, I’ll flip my shit on the whole organization.”
“Killian.”
“I can’t do it, Isla,” his voice cracks. “I can’t tell my brothers I might get traded at the end of the season. It’s my worst nightmare. My biggest fear. I knew this was a possibility but how am I supposed to break the news to my family?”
“Okay, so you don’t yet. Let’s not panic too soon. You have the whole rest of the season to show them who Killian Haynes really is. We just level up the plan a little.”
He blinks, like he expected me to simply tell him he’s fucked. “What?”
“The plan,” I repeat, squeezing his arm. “We’re in this together, right? So, what’s our next move?”
Something shifts in his expression. The panic doesn’t completely disappear, but it softens around the edges, like maybe having someone in his corner makes it slightly more bearable.
“I don’t know,” he admits, his voice rough. “I just...I need them to see that I’m committed. To the team, to Portland. That I’m not just some...”
“Loose cannon?” I supply, remembering our conversation at the hotel bar.
“Yeah.” His laugh is hollow. “That.”
I nod, thinking quickly. “So, we double down. More public appearances. More couple-y stuff. Make it impossible for them to ignore how settled you are.”
“You’d do that?” He looks at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Even though this whole thing is supposed to be temporary?”
The question hits me somewhere unexpected. I stare at him, his question hanging between us like a challenge.
Temporary.
The word echoes in my mind, reminding me of exactly what this arrangement is supposed to be.
“Of course I would,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it? We help each other out.”
“Yeah, but…” He lifts his ball cap and pushes his hand through his hair. “It just feels like you’d be doing a lot more for me than I’d be doing for you. It doesn’t seem fair, is all.”
I shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m offering and what I’m getting out of the deal. It’s more than enough.”
Killian’s eyes search mine for a moment, and I wonder if he can see right through me. “Right,” he finally says, turning the key in the ignition. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.” I try my best to give him a sincere smile. “We’re in this together. So, take me home so I can change. We have a family dinner to get to.”
The drive to my apartment is quiet, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. I keep stealing glances at Killian, watching the way his jaw works as he processes whatever’s going through his mind. When we pull up to my building, he puts the car in park but doesn’t turn off the engine.
“I’ll wait here,” he says, his voice rough. “Take your time.”
I hesitate, my hand on the door handle. “You could come up if you want. It’s not much, but...it’s better than sitting out here alone with your thoughts.”
Something passes between us that I can’t quite name. “Yeah,” he says, cutting the engine. “Okay. Just for a minute.”
We ride the elevator up in silence and when we reach my floor, I lead him down the hallway, acutely aware of his presence behind me. The apartment I share with Tara isn’t much—a small two-bedroom with a view of the parking lot—but it’s ours, and we’ve made it comfortable.
“Make yourself at home,” I say, gesturing to the couch as I head toward my bedroom. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I close the door behind me and lean against it, taking a deep breath. I press my fingers to my mouth, still feeling the ghost of Killian’s touch.
“Get it together,” I whisper to myself. “It was just a kiss. It meant nothing.”
I choose a soft blue shirt and pair of dark jeans, something comfortable enough for dinner with his family but still put together.
I brush out my hair and pull half of it back and then take one last look in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are brighter than usual.
I look...strangely happy and that realization sends an unfamiliar flutter through my chest.
When I emerge from my bedroom, Killian is standing by the window, looking out at the parking lot, his posture relaxed somewhat. “Ready?” I ask, grabbing my purse and keys from the hook by the door.