Page 49 of Pucking Curves

“Don’t like it much either, baby sister,” he says, squeezing me tight.

“Then stop breaking my heart!” I tip my head back, staring up at him with tears in my eyes. “This is so stupid, Micah. Why can’t you just be happy for us?”

“Because I’m an asshole,” he mutters, guilt stamped all over his face. “I’m sorry, Wren.”

“M-me too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, kid. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighs heavily. “I’m the one who hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, you did.” I sniffle. “I’m not that reckless little girl anymore. Why can’t you see that?”

“I do see it. But hockey is his life, Wren. I don’t want you settling for someone who puts you second. What you need has always come behind this damn game. It shouldn’t be like that for the rest of your life.”

“You don’t know him as well as you think you do if you think that,” I whisper. “I don’t come second to him, Micah. He cares about me in a way no one ever has. He l-loves me in a way no one else ever will. And I feel the same way about him. Why can’t that be enough for you?”

“You love him?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” Micah shoves a hand through his hair. “How the fuck did I miss this happening?”

“Because we didn’t want you to know,” I say quietly, swiping at my eyes. “We tried so hard to pretend we could ignore it because we didn’t want to hurt you. But that isn’t fair to either one of us. We deserve to be happy too, and that exists outside of your friendship with him. One way or another, we would have found our way to each other.”

Micah stares at me for a long moment and then sighs. “Give me time, Wren. Okay? Just…give me time to wrap my head around this shit.”

I nod dejectedly. That isn’t the answer I want. I want him back in my life. I want him to be happy for us. But…this is a start. It’s better than not speaking at all. It’s better than angry words and ignored calls and irrational demands.

“Love you, baby sister,” he murmurs, hugging me again.

“Love you too.” I squeeze him hard and then step back. “Good luck in Detroit.”

He jerks his chin in a nod and then jogs back to the bus. Just like Archer, he pauses at the bottom of the steps and glances back at me. But he doesn’t wave. He just pauses for a moment before jogging up the steps and disappearing onto the bus.

Tears spill down my cheeks.

Not even three seconds later, Archer leaps off the bus.

“Graves, what the fuck?” Coach growls.

“Just a second, Coach,” Archer says, not even sparing him a glance as he jogs across the pavement toward me. He takes one look at my face and then pulls me into his arms. “I’ve got you, baby.”

I bury my face in his shoulder, trying to get myself under control. Grateful that he’s here. That he knew I needed him. I think he’ll always know.

“I love you,” I whisper when I’ve finally got myself under control.

“I love you too.” He tips my head back, carefully drying my tears. “Are you okay now?”

“Yes,” I say with a nod. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? I’ll hold this bus up all day if that’s what I need to do, baby girl.” He cups my cheeks. “Whatever you need.”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, trying to keep from bursting into tears again. Because I know he’d do it. If I told him I wasn’t okay, he’d stand right here with me all day, flight be damned.

And that’s what gives me the confidence to smile at him. It’s what makes me so sure that, sooner or later, Micah will come around. He’ll see the same thing I do—that Archer is exactly the guy he would have chosen for me if he weren’t so damn stubborn.

“I’m okay,” I promise. “They were mostly happy tears.”

“They didn’t look happy, Wren.”

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