Page 102 of Promise Me This
No matter what the cost.
A puck rockets toward me and I square my shoulders, dropping into position on instinct. The shot slams into my pads, the impact rattling up my legs, sharp enough to sting.
Good.
I welcome it. I want something I can absorb. Something I can stop.
Because there are too many things I can’t control.
Today, we’re still standing.
But tomorrow?
That remains a question mark.
43
Kia
A pit the size of Rhode Island settles at the bottom of my belly. Any moment, I’m going to be sick, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pregnancy.
I’m curled up on the couch with my knees tucked to my chest, arms banded around my legs, as if it’s possible to hold myself together through sheer willpower. The fabric of the throw blanket scratches faintly against my cheek where I’ve pressed my face into it. I breathe slowly, trying to convince my body that panic isn’t necessary.
It’s just a conversation.
Just words that happen to be with my brother.
Except the conversation is so much more. Once I say it out loud, the secret stops being mine and it becomes something that exists out in the open.
My mouth turns cottony at the thought.
From down the hall, Elody’s giggles drift through the penthouse. She’s probably lining up her stuffed animals for a tea party or having a conversation with Penny about whether dessert should come before dinner. The sound of her laughter feels like a reminder of everything that’s fragile and worth protecting.
There’s the familiar pad of footsteps before Laiken appears in the living room. He’s wearing a fitted Henley and dark-wash jeans that look ridiculously good on him. His hair is still damp from his earlier shower.
He looks so damn handsome.
More than that, he looks like a man who’s already decided how this situation is going to play out and isn’t wasting energy on it. I just want to soak up his certainty and believe it really can be that easy.
As soon as his gaze lands on me, his expression softens. It’s like he can see my panic and unease before I even say a word. It’s amazing to find a person who’s so in tune with your thoughts and feelings. As much as I love it, I’m still getting used to his ability to read me.
After crossing the room, he settles beside me on the couch before wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in until my forehead can rest against his chest.
“Are you all right?” he asks quietly.
“Yup,” I say, wishing it were the truth. “Totally fine.”
His chest is solid beneath my cheek, his heartbeat slow and steady. The tension in my shoulders gradually eases.
He presses his lips to the top of my head. “Are you lying to me, Kitten? Because you look like you’re bracing for the other shoe to drop.”
A weak huff of laughter escapes from me. “Maybe I am.”
His arm tightens. Instead of feeling trapped, I feel connected to him. I shift closer without thinking, letting myself sink into his strength. I’ve never known a man who felt this unmovable. Like no matter how hard the ground shakes, he’ll remain standing.
“It’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ll be here the entire time.”
It takes effort to swallow past the emotion rising in my throat. “I know. And I appreciate it.” More than he could possibly realize. More than I’m capable of putting into words.
