Prologue
Colt
I crouch and unscrew the little black cap, press the tip of the ballpoint pen against the valve.
Air hisses out in a rush.
The tire slowly goes flat.
Is this a crime? Probably.
Is this the first time I’ve done this? Nope.
Kylie Connors is probably wondering why in the fuck she gets so many flat tires. And I’m the answer. Because every time she ends up with a flat—and this will be the fifth—I’m there to fix it for her.
Because it’s the only time she’ll acknowledge my presence.
Not when she tags along to team events. Not when we come across each other in the halls of the practice rink or the Sierra’s home arena. Not after games or before practice or if we happen to run into each other in town.
It’s only when she’s trapped on the side of the dark, quiet road that she’ll talk to me.
Look at me.
And what she gives me during those short moments…it’s fucking beautiful. She’s funny and smart and?—
Intoxicating.
Irresistible.
Still, I’ve tried. To give her space, to let her come to me if and when she decides. To not push even though every part of me demands it.
I know what she went through, know it still haunts her.
So, I waited.
I just…can’t any longer.
Because if she’s the line I can’t cross, I’m already on the wrong side.
I pull the tip of the pen out, survey my handiwork—low enough she shouldn’t immediately notice, but enough air gone that she won’t make it far.
Perfect. I screw on the cap, slink away to my car, and climb in.
Then I sit and wait for her to walk out of the arena.
To climb into her own car, start up the engine.
And when she drives out of the lot…
I follow.
Because I’m done waiting for Kylie Connors to come to me.
Tonight, everything changes.
One
Kylie
