Free Love of the Game by Lori Wilde Page B

couldn’t unlock it.
    The hope chest sat unopened for several days after Breeanne bought it, until Suki came up with the idea of making skeleton key necklaces. Suki sold the necklaces in her online Etsy store to great success, and used up all the keys in the store. She’d put a sign in the window offering to buy skeleton keys for a dollar.
    The next day, a mysterious customer brought in a key that had fit the lock on the trunk’s fifth compartment.
    Taking the saying on the chest to heart, Breeanne had made a wish as she’d opened the compartment, asking for a boost in her writing career. Right after that, she’d gotten a call from the agent who’d snubbed her for over a year, telling her local sports hero Rowdy Blanton was looking for a ghostwriter from their area.
    Inside the compartment, Breeanne had found asmaller box with another cryptic saying etched into that lid, and when she opened the smaller box, Breeanne discovered a cheetah scarf that felt soft only to her and Rowdy. To everyone else, the scarf felt rough and scratchy.
    Breeanne took it as a sign that she and Rowdy were meant to be.
    Romantic, yes, but it didn’t really mean anything, at least not to Kasha’s way of thinking.
    But then Breeanne gave the trunk to Jodi after she and Rowdy married. Jodi found a skeleton key in an antique evening bag she’d borrowed from Timeless Treasures on the same night she met Jake while crashing a high-society wedding.
    The key had fit the fourth compartment in the trunk, and when Jodi opened it, she’d found an exotic perfume that only she and Jake could smell.
    Still, Kasha remained unconvinced that the trunk had special wish-granting powers. In her mind, it was self-fulfilling prophecy, and nothing more. How could it be more than the power of suggestion? Her sisters had wanted to fall in love, so their minds had invented a fantasy to match what they found.
    Kasha wasn’t interested in searching for a key. The last thing she wanted was a passionate relationship. If she ever did get married—not that she was even thinking along those lines—it would be a sane, sensible agreement. Not some wild, ardent union based on overwrought emotions.
    Breeanne put a hand on Kasha’s knee. “You can’t give up on love.”
    â€œI haven’t given up because I was never looking for it in the first place.”
    Breeanne clucked her tongue. “Love is the most wonderful thing in the world.”
    Kasha shifted in her seat, and wished she hadn’t gotten into this conversation. “Forget me. What’s got you down in the mouth?”
    â€œI saw the doctor today—”
    â€œIs it your heart?” Kasha’s pulse jumped, and she wrapped a hand around Breeanne’s thin forearm.
    â€œNo, no. I didn’t see my cardiologist.” Breeanne nibbled her bottom lip, and pushed a lock of long blond hair behind her ear.
    â€œWho?”
    A tear slipped down Breeanne’s cheek, then another, and another.
    What now? Kasha’s chest tightened. Felt helpless in the face of her sister’s tears. She dug around in her purse, found a tissue, pressed it into her sister’s hand. Awkwardly, she patted Breeanne’s shoulder. “There. There.”
    Breeanne swiped at her cheeks, but it didn’t staunch the flow of tears.
    Fear twined around Kasha’s throat. “What is it? You gotta tell me.”
    â€œRowdy and I went to see a fertility specialist . . .” Breeanne paused. Hiccupped. “And the tests came back.” She hitched in a breath, closed her eyes. “Because of my longstanding health issues, and the medications I was on for so many years, I most likely won’t ever be able to have children of my own.”
    â€œOh, Bree,” Kasha whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
    Breeanne pressed the tissue against her nose, her shoulders wobbling with the force of her grief.
    â€œHave you told Mom and