Page 32 of Hot Shot
“Are you lost?”
“I think so. And for a while I was okay with that. Now, not so much.”
“And I’m going to be your partner in crime for this life hunt?”
Her question brings me up short. Turning, I study her expression. “You don’t want to help me find my new life?”
“What I want isn’t what matters, Bran. What do you want?”
“I want to do what you said. Live again. And I want to do it with you.”
“As your friend and possibly your coach.”
“Definitely my coach. And my friend. But I hope over time I can convince you to let me be more.”
“Bran.”
“I’m not asking or expecting that now. But I think I should make my intentions clear. I want on your team. I want in your life. And eventually, I want in your bed.”
“That’s a lot of want.”
“I haven’t let myself think about anything other than the hell my life was until you showed up with a bucket-wielding Oakley. Now, it’s all I can think about. I let someone else dictate who I was, who I should be, then rip it all away, and I didn’t have,couldn’t find, the courage to pull myself out of the dark pit I fell into.”
“And you’ve found that courage?”
“No. I’ve found the light.” I step closer, lift my free hand, and cradle her jaw. “You, Blake. You are my light. You always were. And for a long time, I refused to let you shine on me. I won’t be doing that ever again.”
Dropping my hand, I give hers a tug with my other and lead her outside, toward the detached garage.
“Shouldn’t we get changed? Grab our coats?” she asks, with a small chuckle. “Maybe I could put some shoes on over my socks?”
“What?” I glance back to see her socked feet. “Shit! Sorry. Yes. Let’s get coats and boots and whatever else we might need for a night on the town.”
“A night on the town? Sounds like I should bring my dancing shoes.”
“Do you want to go dancing? I don’t know if there’s—” Her laughter cuts me off. “Okay, that was a joke. Right?”
Blake nods, her laughter gone but her mouth is still stretched wide. “Yes, that was a joke.”
“Told you I was rusty.”
“Maybe a little.” She pulls on our joined hands. “C’mon, let’s get ready and lock up the house. We can spend the afternoon tooling around town in Gannon’s car then find somewhere to eat.”
The idea of exploring with Blake lights me up like nothing has in too long to remember. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For being you. For helping me. For not hating me.”
“I could never hate you.”
I hear her, believe she means it, but I’m not sure she’ll feel the same when she finds out I unwittingly stole something from her and her family.
Blake
Parry Sound is like a lot of towns—big or small—in Canada.
Hockey mad.
