Page 85 of Golden Goal

Kat looks up, her eyes flicking over me and she smiles. She pushes off the wall and stumbles closer to me. I take a half step back, noting that she’s wearing baggy joggers, tennis shoes, and a long sleeve shirt that’s seen better days. If I didn’t hate her so much, I would be worried something was wrong, because she never dresses like this. At least not in all the years I’ve known her.

“I’m offended you didn’t call to tell me you were in town. We could have gotten together before the game, for coffee or you know. . .” She shimmies her shoulders, and I force myself not to gag.

Is she serious?

“Why the hell would I want to tell you I was in town? Better yet, what makes you think I would want to see you?”

She steps closer to me and runs one of her nails down my chest. I flinch, pushing her hand away.

“Don’t be silly.” She bats her eyelashes at me.

“Silly? Silly? Listen Kat, I don’t know what’s up with you, but you ended things. Or do you not remember?”

She twirls a lock of hair between her fingers. “I changed my mind. We were so good together, Holt.”

“Don’t,” I grit out.

“How’s my daughter? Do you have any pictures of her?”

I furrow my brow, clenching my teeth.

Is this real? Am I fucking dreaming? This has to be a nightmare.

“My daughter is fine. She’s not yours. You gave up that right. Remember? When you showed up at my door with her.”

She’s silent, opening and closing her mouth a few times, before finally speaking. “What are you talking about? Gave up my rights to her? I would never.” She puts a hand on her chest like she’s offended.

“I have the paperwork that says you did. My lawyer does, too.”

“Oh, Holt.” She steps closer, running a hand down my arm. “I think you’re confused. We agreed she’d stay with you while I got through my busy season, and then we’d figure out where we were going to settle down so we could be a family.” She tilts her head. “Do you not remember? I know you have problems with your memory sometimes. Did you take a puck to the head recently? Are you concussed?”

I stare, unblinking, recalling the last time she said that to me.

“I’m home,” I yell as I walk into the apartment, tossing my keys onto the counter.

“Hey,” Kat says, coming out of our bedroom, dressed in a short black dress and a pair of silver high heels.

I frown.

“Ready already? We don’t have to leave for a few more hours.”

“I’m meeting Brooke for drinks.”

I blink a few times before clearing my throat. “Kat, we have the charity dinner tonight.”

She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me? You can’t expect me to drop everything to come to your team’s event at a moment’s notice.”

“I told you a few weeks ago. I wrote it on the calendar.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder toward the fridge.

“No, you didn’t.”

I did. I know I did. I glance at the dry-erase calendar, my eyes widening when I see today’s square is empty.

“Kat. I swear I did.”

She holds up her hands. “Maybe you thought you did, like with family skate night.” She shakes her head at me. “That’s the whole reason we got it, so you could write things down. We’ve talked about this, but maybe you forgot.” She gives me a once-over. “Have you taken any pucks to the helmet lately? Are you concussed?”

“Kat.” I seethe.