Page 30 of Golden Goal

As I’m closing my front door, there’s another crack of lightning, and Rebecca jumps, banging into me. I spin around, my hands gripping her hips to steady her. She sags against me.

“Holt?” Hadley calls.

Rebecca moves back, and I let her go even though all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and hold her. Comfort her.

But I can’t.

She’s my physical therapist. I’ve got my hands full with Hazel, and even if I didn’t, I’m not in the market for anything. Nope, I’ve sworn off relationships.

“Sorry,” Rebecca mutters.

“Don’t apologize,” I whisper, shining my flashlight down the hallway and beckoning her to follow me further into the apartment.

My steps falter when we make it into the living room, and I’m greeted by candles I didn’t know I owned lit around the room. I turn to Hadley, and she shrugs, mouthing Kat. I internally groan. If this was any other situation, I’d make her blow them out and throw them away, but right now, I’m thankful for the extra light so I don’t have to keep using my phone as a flashlight.

“Hi. You must be Rebecca,” Hadley says as another crash of thunder sounds and Rebecca jumps again.

Chapter thirteen

Rebecca

Fucking storms. I hate them. Well, the thunder and the lightning. Rain is fine. Even hail doesn’t bother me. But thunder and lightning? No thank you.

“Hi. Hadley, right?” I take a seat on the couch, greeting Holt’s sister, who is perched on the edge of one of the high-backed chairs to the left of the couch.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. Although not the best situation,” she says.

“Agreed.”

Holt pulls out his phone, studying it for a few seconds before glancing up. “According to the radar it should be almost over.”

As the words come out of his mouth, his daughter starts crying. He goes to stand up, but Hadley jumps to her feet.

“I got her,” Hadley says, hurrying out of the room.

I lean back against the cushions, closing my eyes. The couch shifts, and I feel a blanket being laid over me.

“Thank you.” I pull the blanket up to my chin.

“No problem,” Holt mutters. “What do you do in your free time?”

I open my eyes. “Huh?” I ask, furrowing my brow.

“I was trying to make conversation. You know, pass the time.”

“Oh.” I pull my arms out from under the blanket, contemplating his question. “Not a lot, if I’m being honest. My favorite thing to do is a puzzle while listening to an audiobook. When the weather’s nice, I spend as much time outside as possible. What about you?”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “In what little free time I have, I’ve started playing video games. Well, I’ve always been a gamer, but I usually played Madden NHL.” He pauses, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes me. Why am I not surprised that the hockey player also loves to play hockey video games? “But I got hooked on a new game this summer called Nightfall. It’s fun to get lost in, and escape reality for a while.”

“I’m not much of a gamer myself. I’ve tried, and I always end up frustrated when I can’t remember what button does what, but I understand the appeal.” He lets out a half chuckle, half snort, and I shoot a glare his way. “If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread.” He pats his flat stomach. “I can put away a lot of spaghetti.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“What about you?”

“Soup.”