Page 150 of Playing the Pucking Game
Little P: No. Please, can you be quick?
Linc: Getting in the car right now. I’ll be ten minutes, tops.
I have no idea where Linc is right now, but something tells me that it’s farther than ten minutes away, seeing as there isn’t much around here. But I’m not going to argue. I need him too much for that.
Time seems to slow to a stop the second his messages cease.
I want to reply, but I know he’s driving.
So instead, I rest my cell in my lap and will my heart to stop hurting.
Every time I blink, even for a second, the image of them returns.
Where are they now?
Are they still up there?
Has he wondered where I am?
Silent tears continue as reality hits me over and over.
He gave me a key to that room. Did he…did he want me to find them?
I startle when my cell rings in my hands.
My first instinct is to reject it, but then I see the name.
Storm.
“Hello?” I rasp the second I press it to my ear.
“I’m here. Where are you?”
I swallow thickly.
“Can you see a row of bushes at the end of the lot, to the left of the hotel?”
“Uhh…” I squeeze my eyes closed, picturing him looking around. “Yeah.”
“I’m behind them.”
“I’m coming.”
A beat before the line dies, I swear I hear him running to me.
I push from the bench, attempt to dry my cheeks, and wipe inevitable stray makeup from my eyes before taking a couple of steps forward.
Hearing movement, I look up.
And there he is, running toward me with his standard backward cap, a hoodie, sweats, and a look on his face I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.
“Parker?” he pants, not slowing his pace at all.
“Linc,” I sob, emotion slamming into me all over again, although not as hard as he does a second later when he gathers me in his arms and holds me tight.
“It’s okay, little P. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
His words make me cry harder, louder.
