Page 29 of Pucking Curves

“Who are you texting?” Micah asks, hopping over the board. “You’re smiling. It’s fucking weird.”

Shit. I power off the screen before he can see it. And then I hesitate. This is the part where I’m supposed to lie to him. I’m supposed to tell him it’s no one important or it’s nothing. But…I fucking can’t.

Not after what Wren told me about her almost dying when she was a kid. I understand him a whole lot better now. I get why he’s so fucking overprotective. He almost lost her, and he still blames himself. Hiding our relationship from him isn’t the way to solve the problem. I respect them both too fucking much to sneak around behind his back and cause more damage.

“Your sister,” I say, trying to keep my voice as casual as possible, fully aware that either he or she may kill me for this. But it has to be done. I’m not okay hiding her, and deep down, I know she isn’t okay with it either. Micah’s opinion matters to her, perhaps more than anyone else’s in the world.

“What the fuck?” He scowls at me, his expression dark. “You better be joking, you prick.”

“She texted to say she got pooped on at work.”

He stares at me for a long moment, the silence between us tense, broken only by the sound of sticks slamming against pucks on the ice. “What the fuck is going on between you and my sister?” he finally asks, his voice a soft growl. He’s pissed. Suspicious.

I married her while she was drunk in Vegas, and I don’t fucking regret it. I’m in love with her.

For a second, I think about telling him the whole truth, just spitting it out and letting the chips fall where they may. But…I can’t do that, either. Wren would never forgive me. Until she’s all in, ready to face him together, I can’t force it. If I try, I’m only going to force myself right out of her life. I can’t take that risk. I need time to convince her that telling him we got married is the right move.

But that doesn’t mean we have to hideus, either.

There’s a happy medium here, a fine line that may just be the only goddamn way forward for us. Or it may blow up in my face. I don’t know, but I won’t lie to him.

“I’m crazy about her,” I say quietly. It’s the understatement of all understatements. I fucking breathe for her. But he isn’t ready to hear that. One step at a time.

“Keep your goddamn hands off my sister, Archer. I’m not fucking around.”

“I get that you want to protect her, man. She deserves that. But she’s grown, Micah. She gets to decide for herself who she does or doesn’t want to be with.”

“Jesus Christ. You two are seeing each other?” He narrows his eyes on me. “Is that why you offered to take her gambling in Vegas? So you could sneak around behind my back?”

“No,” I say, choosing my words carefully…walking that thin line that keeps me on the side of truth without revealing too much. “I didn’t even know she was going to be there. And if you weren’t an overprotective asshole, she’d be a whole helluva lot more willing to tell you that she wants the same thing I do. She’s scared of upsetting you, man.”

“So it’s my fault you two are sneaking around?” he growls.

“We aren’t sneaking around!” I snap. “I’m telling you plainly that your sister is mine. And I’m hoping you won’t be a dick and make her feel guilty about it because your opinion still matters to her just as much as it did when she was laying in the hospital bed when she was ten.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

I grit my teeth, trying not to lose my patience with him. “Respectfully, it’s not your choice. It’s hers. I’ll be letting her make it, not you.”

He mutters a curse, snatching his water bottle from the bench to take a big drink. His eyes linger on me, full of anger. But there’s something else there too. Hesitation. “She told you about her accident?”

I jerk my chin in a nod.

“Did she tell you how it happened?”

“Yeah. She told me.”

“Motherfucker.” He tosses the bottle, looking like he wants to hit something. But I don’t think he’s pissed at me right now. He’s pissed at the past and the memory of almost losing his baby sister. He’s mad as hell that he wasn’t there to protect her…and he’s fucking worried that this will end the same way, with her hurt and him feeling helpless. But he should know me better than that by now. I’m not like River. I never have been. And in my whole goddamn life, I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

“She’s safe with me, man.”

He grunts wordlessly.

“You know she is.”

“Fine. Whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want, Archer.” He throws his hands up, staring at me like he wants to hit me. “She’s smart enough to tell your stupid ass no without me helping her along.”

“She isn’t going to say no.”

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