Page 103 of The Shot You Missed
“All right, boys and girls, we’re one game closer to the Cup. We have another game tomorrow, so we better move our asses if we want to celebrate tonight.”
The room erupts in cheers, then everyone is moving. Toward the bar, toward the Cup, and toward a future that I’ve spent years imagining. And all of it with the boy I’ve always loved beside me.
thirty-five
SEBASTIAN
I’m notsure why I’m so nervous that my stomach feels funny, but I am.
“You look beautiful,” I tell Indie for the third time since picking her up for our dinner with my parents. She looks over at me and smiles, the apples of her cheeks the prettiest shade of pink, and my chest gives a heavy thump.
I nearly swallowed my tongue when Indie opened the door in a floral print dress with thin straps, a neckline that is just low enough to have me perpetually hard with the amount of cleavage it shows, and a flared skirt that would besoeasy to flip up for a little fun. Her hair is curled and loose around her face, and the gold shimmer on the inner corners of her eyes adds even more dimension to her hazel irises.
She’s stunning. And she’s mine.
With the playoffs in full swing, my schedule has been crazier than normal, so we haven’t spent as much time alone as I’d like. We lost our game yesterday, so we did end up spending a quiet night in at my place before falling asleep together, since no one was in the mood to go out to a bar and face the fans. But so muchof our time together has been over the phone or video chats, and because of that, it hasn’t completely sunk in that this is real. She’s here, she’s mine, and she and Lola have decided to extend their stay.
We’re taking some big steps in our relationship, but for whatever reason, going to dinner with my parents feels like a make-or-break event.
There’s no doubt my parents love Indie. They always have. Despite trying their best to hide it, I know they were almost as devastated as I was when she disappeared. But my parents don’t hold grudges, and after I explained the situation to them, I think they were more sad for Indie than anything else.
But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell her they’re happy we reconnected. She’ll have to experience it and feel it for herself in order to believe it.
“Seriously, Rosebud. I can’t keep my eyes off you.”
“Well, I hope you can. I’d rather we not get in a car accident.” She throws me a cheeky smile that has me chuckling.
“Don’t worry. I’d never do anything to put you at risk. I’ll always protect you.” No matter what comes, I’ll do my best.
I can’t control what assholes with zero empathy or sense of basic human decency write about Indie, but I can do my best to shield her and go to bat for her.
Indie clears her throat, fingers twisting in her lap while she stares at me with wide eyes. “I believe you.”
I swear to god, the sky opens up and a chorus of angels starts singing.
Reaching over, I intertwine our fingers to halt her nervous fidgeting. It takes a few moments, but soon her entire body softens. I love that I have that kind of effect on her. That I can be a safe place for this woman who’s had far too few of them.
Her shoulders stiffen again when we walk into the restaurant, so I rub circles over her hand with my thumb. A fewheads turn in our direction as the host leads us into the dining room and to the table where my parents are already seated. At least until they see us. Then they’re up and wrapping us both in hugs.
“You look lovely,” my mom murmurs to Indie, who blushes. “My son is a lucky man.”
Indie’s hazel eyes find me over my mom’s shoulder. “I’m the lucky one.”
“I’m so happy you two found each other again,” my dad whispers low enough that only I can hear. “Don’t let her get away again.”
“Never,” I assure him.
Once everyone has hugged, we take a seat. Indie and I sit across from my parents, and I can’t help myself. I pull her chair as close to mine as I can get it and wrap an arm around her back. There’s no such thing as close enough with Indigo Bloom. I have a decade of not touching her to make up for, and I don’t care who’s watching.
The conversation is easy. There are no awkward pauses, no heavy silence. My parents and the girl I’ve always loved laugh and chat like they haven’t missed a beat.
Indie smiles and congratulates my dad when he tells her about the success of the restaurant he is now co-owner of. He tells her he’s proud of her when she tells them about graduating college with honors. My mom entertains with stories about my younger brothers, Anthony and Isaiah, and about the chaos of the last family gathering with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins.
“So tell me, are you still writing?” My mom leans in, eyes on Indie. “Every time I go to a bookstore, I look for a book with your name on it.”
“Oh.” Indie’s face flushes and she shifts in her seat beside me. Her eyes flick quickly in my direction before returning to mymom. “Um, I am still writing, yes. But you won’t find anything with my name on it at the bookstore.”
My mom reaches over and pats Indie’s hand. “Maybe someday. And when you do, I’ll be the first in line at our local store to buy a copy.”
