Page 19 of Damsel in Defense
I did some research on her last night.That sounds creepy, but I wanted to know more about this fascinating woman.I’m sure if I asked her, Victoria would tell me whatever I wanted to know…but I have a feeling it would be the condensed version.
She’s accomplished so much in a short span of time, yet you would never know that about her.For crying out loud, I called her a superstar last night, and she blushed.Blushed!
“Prepare yourself because I am going to get the largest size they have and then ride that caffeine high all morning.It will hopefully give me the push I need to start unpacking.”
“How long have you been in that apartment?”She doesn’t answer, only avoids my gaze.Which tells me everything.“Oh my God, Victoria,” I laugh, holding the door open for her.“That’s unacceptable.You know you can pay people to help you.”
“Eww.I don’t want strangers touching my things.And what if they steal something?No, I’d rather take my time and get to it when I get to it.”
“You’re going to be living in a cardboard box castle soon, aren’t you.”
She laughs with me as we step up to the counter to order our drinks.As we’re waiting, my phone vibrates in my pocket.Grabbing it and giving it a quick glance, I see a text from a number I’ve blocked.
Paying it no mind, I tap the message and delete it without looking.Then, the whole thing is out of sight, out of mind, as I pay for our treats.
Minutes later, we step back outside with our large coffees and cookies.They’re oatmeal, Victoria stated, so they’re practically breakfast food.I couldn’t disagree.
She’s mid-bite into her cookie when her smile falls.There’s no time for me to ask her what’s wrong before I see it.The camera lens flickering in the sunlight.
My eyes scan our surroundings.The dude is subtle, I’ll give him that.It’s just one photographer across the street, pretending to check his phone as another big-ass camera is around his neck.Son of a bitch.
I reach for Victoria’s hand.This is what we wanted, but it’s always unsettling to be followed and photographed.
I don’t say anything.Instead, I pull Victoria tighter into my side, and we start walking in the opposite direction of the paparazzi.
She gives me three squeezes.
Her eyes flick to mine, and I watch her body relax by degrees.“Sorry, I don’t know why, but that took me by surprise.”
“No need to apologize.I get it.I know this is the whole point we left the condo, but I still hate it.Honestly, it’s one part of playing hockey professionally that I hate.Everyone thinks they’re entitled to a piece of your private life.”
She’s wired like someone always waiting for the next hit, the next headline.No one taught her what it feels like to be protected without conditions.I’m going to break that cycle.I’m going to show her what it feels like to have someone show up when she needs them or to just be a body in the room, supporting her.
Our walk along the water is peaceful.There are a couple of fans who recognize either her or me, but no one bothers us.The sun is hot against my skin, and I tilt my head up to soak in all the sunshine I can.Canadian summers are short.I need to bask in these moments every opportunity I have.
The time before training camp starts is drawing closer.Then I’ll be stuck inside on the cold rink.Which I love, but I’m never going to say no to a little warmth and a spectacular tan.
Victoria takes a deep breath beside me, drawing my attention.Her hair is dancing all around her in the wind, but she doesn’t try to stop it.
“This was a good idea,” she says finally, taking a long sip of her drink.“Sorry I was weird earlier.”
“You weren’t weird.”
“You thought I was going to bolt.”She huffs a laugh.
“Iknewyou were going to bolt,” I say with a grin.“I just wasn’t going to let you.”
She nudges me with her elbow.“Persistent, huh?”
I shrug, leaning in to whisper in her ear.“You’re the first woman I’ve fake dated.Gotta get it right.”
She laughs at that, and we fall into easy conversation—talking about music, childhood antics, what the off-season is like for me, and how she’s adjusting to Toronto.
By the time we turn back, her fingers are laced with mine like we’ve done this a thousand times.
I don’t tell her that I’ve been faking this part too—pretending I’m not already invested.Because I am.
She’s different.She’s smart, and scrappy, and funnier than she lets people see.And yeah, maybe she’s a little guarded.But there’s something about her that makes me want to be the person who shows up,especiallywhen she expects no one will.
