Page 47 of Third Strike Smitten

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.”