Page 85 of Shots Fired

My heart breaks for her.

He really is a fucking piece of shit.

“In hindsight, maybe I should’ve gotten into sports and been drafted into the NHL, like you were. That sounds like a much better option.”

I know she doesn’t really believe that, although I can’t deny I’ve had a fucking good life.

It’s just better now.

“Your experience in college isn’t a reflection on you as a person, Darcy. Only the people who were around you. But now all that’s changed because you’re in the right place, surrounded by people who care about and love you.”

She just looks at me with eyes sparkling in the bright fall sunshine when a couple approaches the steps below us and takes a seat, turning their backs to face the same way as us.

I don’t think they recognize me, but I don’t want to chance it.

Keeping hold of her hands, I stand and guide her toward the monument.

“Where are we going?” she asks in a giddy tone.

I turn back to her, the usual cocky grin plastered across my face.

When we reach the back of the monument, I waste no time as I press her into the side. Darcy props a foot up against it as I lean over her frame, tipping her chin up with my finger.

In her flat black boots, she’s tiny beneath me.

“Do you feel better now?” I ask her, my voice breathy.

I see the way her chest rises and falls, but this time, it isn’t because she’s turned on. This time, it’s different. And I like the way the shift between us feels.

“Are we talking about my low blood pressure, headaches, hormones, or panic over you getting traded?”

“All of it.”

I cup the back of her head, and she spins my cap around so it’s facing backward.

Reaching onto her tiptoes, she brings her lips up to mine, and I can smell her sweet scent.

“My headache is gone, and my hormones are in check. The panic has also eased, thanks to you bringing me here …” She trails off.

I lower my lips until their barely touching hers. “And your low blood pressure?”

Her tongue pokes out, smoothing across her lip. “Actually, I’m now having the opposite problem. And thatisyour fault.”

My heart hammers in my chest. “How so, Darcy Doll?”

Finally, she presses her mouth to mine, still smiling. “Because it’s sky-fucking-high.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

DARCY

There are two elements to a hockey game I particularly love.

Number one: the warm-ups. If you haven’t watched the way the players stretch and flex, then I’m afraid you haven’t lived.

Number two: when the goalies cut up the fresh ice prior to a game. Especially when number thirty-three for the Blades does it.

And as I sit here, in the family box, ahead of today’s game against the Scorpions, it’s entirely possible I’m drooling.

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