Page 179 of Shots & Echoes

A smirk tugged at the corner of her busted mouth, her eyes blazing with something wild and unrepentant. Like she knew exactly what she’d just done to me.

Jesus Christ.

I was so fucking gone for this girl.

I didn’t wait.

Didn’t think.

I shoved past security, barely registering their protests, my pulse a deafening roar in my ears. The Team USA locker room loomed ahead, and I stormed through the doors like a man possessed. At this point, they must have decided to eject her from the game because she was no longer sitting in the box.

Players snapped their heads toward me—some whispering, others frozen in shock. I didn’t give a fuck.

She was there.

Sitting on the bench, fists bloodied, chest rising and falling like she was still in the middle of that fight. Her lip was split, bruises already blooming across her skin like war paint. And even like this—especially like this—she was the most breathtaking thing I’d ever seen.

Anger and pride crashed through me in equal measure, an unbearable mix of fuck yeah and what the hell were you thinking?

“What the fuck was that, Evans?”

My voice sliced through the room, a razor-sharp demand that left no room for bullshit. I crossed the space between us in a few strides, blocking out everything and everyone that wasn’t her.

She lifted her gaze to mine, something defiant and dangerous flickering behind those fire-lit eyes.

“I’m not going to let them talk about you like that.”

Her voice was steady, no hesitation, no regret. Like this was a decision—a battle she walked into willingly. And that only made it worse.

“You worked your whole life for this,” I ground out, chest tight with frustration. “And you throw it away over some chirping?”

She wiped the blood from her knuckles, slow and deliberate, like she didn’t give a shit that she was sitting here bruised and bleeding.

“I’m not throwing anything away,” she said, voice calm but unshakable. “I’m standing up for what’s right.”

And fuck—fuck—that was why I loved her. Why I was so far gone for her I couldn’t see straight.

I stepped in closer, so close that her breath tangled with mine, thick and electric in the charged air between us. My hands ached to grab her, to shake some sense into her, to kiss her until she understood what she meant to me.

But all I could do was look at her—this woman who would burn down the whole goddamn world for me—and feel the terrifying truth settle in my bones.

I would never be able to let her go.

She stood there—pissed, proud, fucking radiant.

That fire in her eyes burned brighter than the fluorescents buzzing overhead, a wildfire that refused to be snuffed out. But beneath it—beneath the bruises and defiance—I saw it. Relief. Barely there, but flickering like a candle in a storm.

Because I came. Because I was here.

“Someone taught me some things are worth fighting for.”

Her words sliced through me, clean and precise, a blade to the ribs. I went still, my breath catching in my throat as they sank deep.

That was it. That was everything.

Her.

I felt the walls I had spent years stacking around myself begin to crumble—brick by fucking brick. Walls built to keep people out, to keep me safe, to keep me from ever feeling the way I felt right now.

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