This One Moment (Pushing Limits, #1)(4)

I sent my goalie a mental message that I would melt him in the fire pit in Hailey’s backyard if I lost. I didn’t want to see the movie I knew Hailey would pick. I was okay with chick flicks if they meant I’d get laid, but with Hailey, there would be no getting laid, no matter how much I might’ve wanted it.

Smiling, Hailey got into position. The air of confidence clung to her like the red-hot bikini she loved to wear. Realizing I would lose if I didn’t get my head back in the game, I focused on the plastic dudes on the foosball table.

“You want to go first?” Hailey asked.

I gestured at her. “Ladies first.”

“Okay. Three…two…one.” She pushed the small ball through the hole in the side of the table, aiming toward her row of players.

I twisted the handle, forcing my stiff-bodied players to kick the ball.

But Hailey was faster. She got one of her players into position, and it nailed the ball with its feet. The ball rushed past my players faster than I could move one to block the kick.

Hailey gained possession of the ball, and with the sharp clank of plastic hitting plastic, the ball flew toward my goal. I attempted to prevent her from scoring, but instead clipped the ball and scored on myself.

I hung my head in utter shame while Hailey laughed the warm, sweet sound that always made everything all right—even when the stakes were this high.

I retrieved the ball from the return hole at my end of the table and poked it through the game-play hole. For a few glorious moments I had ownership of it, until Hailey stole the ball away. Her players expertly maneuvered it back to my goal. This time I didn’t score on myself. I didn’t have to. Hailey hammered the ball past my goalie.

And for the first time since I’d come over to see how she was doing, Hailey grinned.

Which made losing to her worth it.





Chapter 3


Nolan


“What do you mean?” I barely got the words out, ice pushing through my body with each beat of my heart. Brandon couldn’t have been any clearer when he said Hailey was in a coma, but it didn’t stop me from hoping I’d misheard him.

“Sorry, dude. I don’t know all the details, other than she was attacked and it was bad.”

“What do you mean, attacked?” Somebody put their hands on my girl?

“That’s all I know. Right now her parents aren’t saying much, not even to Kayla. I only know ’cause Kayla called me.” Hailey’s parents would’ve called me if I had kept in contact after I left Northbridge. But I hadn’t kept in contact with anyone other than Brandon.

Not even with Hailey.

I dragged my fingers through my hair, pushing the messy strands out of my eyes. If I thought the energy in the hallway had been sucked dry before, that was nothing compared to now. Even the overhead lighting failed to buzz with life. “Is she going to…?” I couldn’t finish the sentence because I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to know the answer. Especially not when I still had to perform tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can get away after the show.” The elevator door pinged open, and I stepped inside the empty space.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” His tone was gentle yet heavy with doubt. He knew how much I’d rather avoid returning home. Too many memories existed there—and there was a lot more I couldn’t remember.

The police had tried to find out what happened the night my old man went apeshit, but I couldn’t remember. They called it dissociative amnesia. A fancy term for “too scared shitless to want to remember” was my guess.

“I have to, for Hailey.” Even if she’d hate me for stepping back into her life after I’d turned my back on her for so long.

I stalked out of the elevator, rejoining the world of the living. A burly man yelled last-minute instructions down the hallway to a roadie rushing in the opposite direction.

“I’ll call you once I know what time my flight’s landing.” I ended the call as a boisterous noise headed toward me. A newfound, if not temporary, energy rolled off my bandmates.

“Yo, dude,” Mason boomed, much like his beloved drums when he pounded on them. “Show time.”

Which meant I couldn’t book my flight home until after we were finished with the show, and once the interview with the reporter was over. Shit.

“So what did the old man want to see you about?” Mason asked.

“I’ll tell you later.” I wasn’t ready to be the bearer of f*cked-up news just yet. The least I could do, before I told them the truth, was let them think they were getting a long break, like we’d originally planned.

Jared handed me my guitar. With him, like with the rest of the band, fatigue peeked out from behind the glow of preperformance excitement, ready to crush us if we let it. Thank God tonight was the last show of the grueling touring schedule, which had lasted over a year. At the rate we’d been going, I didn’t think we could’ve lasted much longer before one of us collapsed from the strain of it all.

The roadies at the bottom of the metal stairs leading to the stage handed Jared and Kirk their instruments. I exchanged my guitar, which they would hold on to until I needed it, for my microphone.

In anticipation of our arrival, the arena lights darkened. I could almost taste the audience’s restlessness for the show to begin. A loud murmur of voices filled the air, inching me toward the zone I needed to be in for the performance to be a success. I hoped to hell I could flip over to autopilot and pull this shit off. I could do this set in my sleep. It was hard to shove from my damn head the image of Hailey lying broken and unconscious. But I had to do it for the band. They didn’t need me to screw up our last show.