Page 43 of The Shot You Missed
Indie’s eyes light up when she sees it. “Okay, that’s cute as hell. I can see why people like this one.”
“Why don’t we set up our picnic here?” Despite the Spoonbridge and Cherry sculpture being one of the most popular in the garden, it’s still early enough in the spring that the area doesn’t feel overrun. A few couples and individuals are scattered around, but we have plenty of space and privacy when I spread out our blanket.
We fall into an easy silence as we pull food from the bags. It’s not quite as comfortable as when we were teenagers, but it’s close. Hope bubbles up inside me. Hope that she still feels something for me. That whatever happened ten years ago hasn’t completely destroyed any possibility of making her mine. I let myself hope that I can overcome whatever objections she’ll inevitably lob my way.
We nibble bread and cheese and the tapenade I snagged from one of the stalls. She asks me about the guys; I ask her aboutLola. There are so many years I want to know about. Too many years without more than a handful of sensationalized, gossip-laden articles to go off of.
“Are your parents planning to make it to any of your playoff games?” Indie asks, her tone lighter than her expression would support. I can’t tell if it’s because she’s hoping to see my parents or avoid them.
My parents always loved Indie. They didn’t care that she was the daughter of movie stars. They were never starstruck by Robert and Vivian. When they met her for the first time, none of us had any idea who her parents were. They fell for her for the same reasons I did. Because she was sunshine and sweetness. There was something so effortlesslyrealabout her, and that only became more impressive once we found out how she grew up.
It never hurt that they could tell how much she meant to me. Both of my parents knew I planned to tell Indie how I felt that summer after senior year. They were absolutely certain she’d return my feelings. Hell, I’m pretty sure my mom had a folder with wedding inspiration hidden on her laptop hard drive for the day I eventually proposed.
They were almost as disappointed as I was when she disappeared that summer. Eventually, they stopped asking me about her, but I don’t think they’ve ever completely given up hope that we’d reconnect.
Which is why I can’t tell them about her sudden appearance in the Twin Cities until I know she’s not going to disappear again.
“Yeah, they’ll make it out to a game or two. I guess it depends how far we make it this season.”
“You’ll go all the way,” she says confidently. “You have one of the highest save percentages in the league, your first line has an impressive number of goals, and your whole team has ralliedunder Coach Fry’s leadership in a way you never did under Coach Cross.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline at her casual analysis, and there’s a warmth spreading through my chest. “You’ve really been following along, then, huh?”
Indie’s cheeks flush with heat, but she doesn’t deny it. She shrugs and quietly admits, “I’ve been following your career since college.”
Swallowing becomes difficult, and I stare at her, trying to understand. She disappeared from my life, but she’s been following my hockey career for the last ten years?
“Why?”
“You said you’ve always believed in me. Is it that hard to believe I felt the same?” She looks up at me through the fringe of her lashes, and I want to kiss her. I want to shake her. I want to demand that she tell me why the hell she ran and blocked my number without so much as a text.
“I…”
“I always knew you’d make it, Sebastian. When you grow up the way I did, you get a sixth sense for who’s going to make it and who’s not. There was never a doubt in my mind that you’d not only play in the NHL, but you’d be one of the best.”
Maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s a tight thread of tension in her tone. Pain, even. But she’s the one who walked away from me.
I open my mouth to call her on it, but she speaks first.
“Lola agrees with me. We think you’ll make it to the Cup. And I think you’ll win.”
The wind blows a strand of pink hair over her eyes, and I don’t stop myself from reaching out and brushing it off her forehead and tucking it behind her ear. The air I suck into my lungs is heavy. “Is that so?”
My fingers linger on her cheek, and gravity shifts, pulling our bodies closer together.
How many times did I tell myself to kiss her that last summer together when we were seventeen, but I was too much of a coward? Would things have been different if I’d taken the chance?
Indie’s hazel eyes drop to my lips. “Yes.”
“Yes?” What were we talking about?
The wind swirls around us conspiratorially. Like it knows how much I want to close the distance between us so I can finally discover what her lips taste like. It pushes against us, urging us closer, until I can feel the warm puff of her breath on my face.
“Sebastian…” Indie’s lashes flutter, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
My fingers flex on her cheek, and I press my palm to her face, reveling in the way she blinks rapidly a few times before her eyes close. Her lips part on the softest exhale, and I take that as permission to close the distance between us and finally, after all these years, kiss the woman I’ve been hopelessly in love with.
“Shit, watch out!” The shout startles my eyes open moments before something hits me in the back of the head.
