Page 157 of The Shot You Missed
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask Indie’s ex, even though I don’t really want to hear the answer. I regret asking the moment he turns his attention to her.
“Oh, please. You may have famous parents, and you’re cute enough, I guess, but do you really expect everyone to believe that a successful pro athlete would choose to be with someone like you?” Ryland’s cheeks are flushed an angry, splotchy red. “He probably has models throwing themselves at him after every game.”
“Oh yeah, he wants to die,” Mira says, her hands clenched into fists.
Indie’s face flames scarlet. She sucks in a sharp breath, blinking rapidly. I ball my hands into fists as I watch a devastating array of emotions play across her face. I can’t believe this fucker said that. And in front of a crowd of people with their phones out and recording.
She appears humiliated.
“You need to shut up,” I growl, pushing my way out of the booth so I can plant myself between Ryland and Indie. He doesn’t get to talk to her. To look at her. “Right now.” I glance back at Indie, taking in the tightness around her mouth and the sheen of her eyes, and rage fills me. “Don’t listen to him, sweetheart.”
“Come on, you know I’m right.” Ryland tries to look around me at Indie. “He may want you now, but he’ll get bored, Indigo. Athletes always do. But I won’t. We were good together, and I promise I’ll never take you for granted again.”
I take a step forward, forcing Ryland back, and once again block his view of Indie. My skin feels tight as my muscles bunch and coil, ready for a fight.
“That’senough. Don’t fucking talk to her,” I growl. “Don’t fuckinglookat her.”
Ryland blanches but straightens his shoulders and juts out his jaw. “Or what, asshole? You’ll hit me?” He scoffs. “Go ahead. Hit me. Throw your life away for a fat-ass, frigid bitch.”
My ears fill with static as my body fills with a white-hot rage. It starts in my chest but quickly radiates out until it’s consuming every cell. “What did you say?”
Indie’s ex scoffs. “You heard me. Do you really want to risk your career for someone that looks likeher?”
When Indie lets out a littlesqueakof distress behind me, I see red. “I’d riskeverythingfor her,” I growl.
Then I pull my arm back and let my fist fly.
fifty-two
INDIGO
No one has ever gotteninto a fight for me. Logically, I know violence is rarely the answer, but I’m also a red-blooded woman who also happens to write romance novels for a living, and I’m not too evolved to admit that watching Bash punch Ryland in the face really does it for me.
The crowd gasps as Ryland goes down in one hit, the smug look wiped clean off his face and replaced by blood and outrage.
“You fucking hit me!” my ex screams as he lifts a hand to his bleeding nose. “You probably broke my nose.”
“Your nose isn’t broken,” Sebastian growls, prowling toward Ryland and leaning over him menacingly. “But it will be if you don’t get your pathetic ass up and out of this bar. And leave Indie alone. You got me?”
Swoon.
“Is it wrong to say I’m kind of loving this?” Lola mutters.
“Nope,” Isla says.
“Definitely not,” Mira agrees.
Ryland pushes to his feet, knees knocking together, blood dripping down his face and onto his expensive shirt and favoritepair of jeans.Serves him right.He glares at Sebastian but wisely takes a step back. “You’re going to pay for this. I’m going to press charges, and then I’m gonna sue your ass.”
The hockey players around me let out displeased rumbles and get to their feet. As do I. They follow me out of the booth and form a semicircle around Bash and me when I take my place beside him and link our fingers.
“You’re not going to do any of that,” I tell my ex.
He scoffs, but it’s difficult to look unaffected when you’re bleeding out of your nose. “And why wouldn’t I?”
“Did my dad ask you to deliver the souvenirs for Lola and me in person?”
Ryland frowns. “What?”
