Page 55 of Pucking Rebound

“Look at me.”

When she finally does, I see the hurt written all over her face. “I think you need to look at this from a different perspective because had you not caught him with Nicole yesterday, you wouldn’t have been moving out of your apartment at the same time as the mailman arrived. It was serendipitous timing.”

“That’s true. I stopped him from taking everything.” Speaking more firmly now, she sounds more like the Lola I know.

“You caught him.” I bop the end of her nose.

“I did.” She nods with an air of confidence.

“You’re in control now, Lola. You’re not a joke, you’re a badass.” And when she’s on form, she’s a force of nature and I’m going to help her see how fierce and bold she is again.

“I am. Was?” She questions her status.

“You are. And you’ve kicked Wade’s ass into shape.”

“I have.”

“This is just a blip and I’ll be there to help you get over it.”

“By having lots of sex with me?” she asks while her beautiful, tired from crying, glossy eyes, that are perkier than before, sparkle with desire.

“That’s the plan,” I confirm with a laugh.

“I like that plan.”

As do I.

“You’re safe with me, Lola. I would never do anything to hurt you. I hope you know that.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Jordan Benjamin Miller.”

I raise my eyebrow at her knowing my middle name.

She confesses, “I got your middle name from Wikipedia. Studied every player’s stats before I started working for the Eagles.”

“Ah.” Nothing is sacred anymore.

“We’re the same age,” she says.

“Twenty-four and still figuring it out as we go.”

“Still young enough to be bold and brave and do whatever the hell we want.” Her chest widens as if confidence is filling her up. She’ll bounce back from the Graham thing. I know she will.

I look around, my gaze landing on the painting I started and finished in record time this afternoon. This is what I want to do when I retire. Painting for the rest of my life sounds… peaceful.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask. My studio is messy, smells chemically, and could do with a clear out.

“I took myself on a guided tour.”

“Was this the last stop on the tour?”

“It was the best part.” Yawning she stretches her hands above her head. “You paint?”

“I do,” I confirm with a nod.

“You painted every canvas in your house, didn’t you?”

I love that she figured that out. “Yeah,” I confirm.

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