“Maybe I’m ready to move on. Maybe I’m tired of the secretive stuff, too. I want to be able to drop him over there for two weeks instead of hosting you here.”
Something in her tone warned her she was a rapidly fraying rope. “It’s not forever, Emma. Just hold on.”
“It’s not worth it.” Sounding as firm as he’d ever heard her, Emma’s voice took on that I know better because I’m older, wiser, and female tone. “You broke his heart this weekend, and I had to pay the price of watching it crumble. It’s not worth doing this over and over to him. If it comes out, we deal with it. If it doesn’t, then we’ve given Charlie time with both his parents, and without worry and secrets.”
Killian thought once more to the freckled body that had sprawled with him in the sheets a mere hour ago. “I . . . can’t. I love him, Emma. I love him and you know I love you for being a good mom. But I can’t. Not yet.”
She hung up without another word.
Chapter Twelve
Aileen spent the flight home ignoring Killian studiously. She spoke to a few other players, and even nodded in acknowledgement to him. He seemed hell-bent on doing the same, which was just fine with her. But she knew he watched her, followed her with his eyes. When Michael pulled her down to sit with him for a while—mostly to show her the newest game on his iPhone that had replaced his embarrassing Candy Crush addiction—she could see Killian scowl and look annoyed, though he tried to hide it by pretending to settle down for some sleep. When she got up to head back to her own seat in the media section just before take off, she risked brushing her hand over his shoulder and neck. She didn’t look back to see his reaction¸ but felt his stare all the way to her seat.
Part of her wondered if there was a scarlet Hoe stamped on her back. But since nobody mentioned it . . .
Back on firmer ground—both literal and metaphorical—she unlocked her studio apartment and headed in. With a brush of a kiss over the picture frame holding her family, she flopped into bed and groaned into the pillow. Her entire sleep schedule was thrown off whack now. And God knew, she needed sleep more than she needed to breathe. When her cell phone sounded with Bobby’s ringtone, she debated pushing it off the bed and onto the floor. But just her luck, it would break and she’d be forced to buy a new one since she was too broke to pay for the protection plan when she first got the thing for free with her upgrade. With reluctance, she answered.
“Hi, Bobby.”
“How goes the whale hunt?” he answered in lieu of greeting.
“Just call me Captain Ahab.” She rolled her eyes at the cheesy line. Bobby, however, had an appreciation for the cheesy, and he laughed.
“Got the footage from the weekend?”
“Yeah.” She’d spent half the night last night editing it in her hotel room. Too amped to sleep. Too close to running back down four flights of stairs and pounding on Killian’s door to have another round of amazeballs sex. “There are a few spots the tech guys will have to clean up. I couldn’t get it to completely isolate my voice, and it was so damn loud. But it was a fun one. Tailgating is never a hard assignment. Fun people.”
“Good, good,” he said distractedly. “Look, I need you to use what connections you have to worm your way in to another story.”
“I’m already using all my worm-skills right now with Killian,” she reminded him. Staring at the ceiling, she stretched her back. Airline seats were murder on the muscles. At least the flight back had been a smooth one. “I’m not really in a position to take on anything too involved.”
“Uh-huh.” The tone said I don’t care loud and clear. “Anyway, you’re gonna use whatever girlie skills you’ve got to get an in with Coach Jordan’s daughter.”
She sat up straight, sore muscles forgotten. “You scheduled an interview for me with Cassie Wainwright? Seriously?”
He made a disbelieving sound. “Don’t be stupid. They’re not giving any interviews right now. Not Jordan, not Owens, not Wainwright. They’re a tight-lipped ship. And since nobody can find Stephen Harrison, it’s pretty much a non-starter. But you . . .” He sounded positively gleeful. “You’ve got tits on your side.”
She stared down at her chest. “Not really.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he repeated. “You’re friendly with the guys, they like you. They see you as their little sister.”
All but one . . . There was nothing sisterly about the way Killian had treated her the night before.
“She’ll have seen you around. You’re about as non-threatening as possible. So use it. Take her out for a few cocktails. Play the ‘men suck’ card. Compare your most recent breakups. Paint her nails. Whatever. Girl shit. Get the story.”