Page 202 of The Fine Line
“You’re perfect,” I shoot back without hesitation. “How could you expect anything less?”
She actually laughs—quiet, but there. And then she studies me for a moment longer, tilting her head, like she’s seeing straight through me.
“Forty-six percent,” she says.
I blink. “What?”
“Your faceoff win percentage,” she adds. “Last season.”
I stare, caught completely off guard. “How do you even know that?”
“I know a lot of things.”
She steps back, the corner of her mouth tugging into the barest hint of a smirk. “Improve it. Bump it up to a clean fifty percent. And maybe I’ll consider giving you a shot.”
I raise both brows, a disbelieving laugh slipping out. “Thatcould take all season. Maybe longer. You’re asking the impossible.”
“Well then,” she murmurs, her voice soft but sharp, “I guess you’ll just have to settle for seeing me in your dreams.”
I push my tongue into the side of my cheek. “Well, I guess I’ll see you there, Cub.”
And just like that—she turns and walks away, leaving me standing there like I’ve been knocked flat without even taking a hit.
And the thing is… I do.
I see her in damn near every dream after that. In flashes of color and light. In the sharp slice of her voice, the flicker of her eyes, the way she looked at me like I was nothing and everything all at once.
I see her in the way the air moves. In the light of the moon. In the smallest things that shouldn’t matter but somehow always do.
Even as the world tilts and shifts. Even as darkness tugs at the edges of my mind.
Even as the sounds fade, and I fall.
I see her.
fifty
RHETT
New York, NY, USA
I see her now.
I come to slowly.
The lights are too bright at first, the sounds too soft. It’s like I’m underwater. Disoriented. Dazed. Floating somewhere between dream and waking. I squeeze my eyes shut.
And when I open them again, I see her still—but something’s wrong. Her face is blotched with tears, cradled in her hands. She’s sitting right next to me. Just out of arm’s reach.
And for a moment, I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or dead or somewhere in between, but I just stare. Take her in. The fall of her hair, the curve of her shoulders. The way her fingers press against her temple like she’s holding herself together by sheer force of will.
She’s here.
I thought I lost her.
But she’s right here.
I try to say her name, but it comes out as a rasp. She looks up sharply, her breath catching.
