Page 19 of The Shot You Missed
“What are you doing here, Bash?” The words come out harsher than I mean them to, slicing through the thick air between us. In my defense, I wasn’t expecting to see him, let alone end up in his lap. Scrambling off him, I stand and put some much-needed distance between us.
Sebastian is slower to rise. Each muscle flexes and shifts as he stands, and soon I’m looking up at him in a way I never had to at seventeen.
How is it fair that he’s only grown taller, more muscular, and more handsome in the last ten years, and I’ve stayed the same short five-foot-five inches? The only growing I’ve done has beenin my tits, hips, thighs, and ass. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I angle my body so he won’t notice the weight I’ve put on.
Who am I kidding? Of course, he notices. I was always curvy, but my adult body is a bit more exaggerated than my teenage body was. And I spend my days writing, while he spends his working out.
I hate the thoughts running through my head and the way I curl in on myself. I’ve worked hard to love myself and my body. So what if I’m not tall and thin like my mom? So what if Hollywood relegates women with bodies like mine to character work and comedic relief? Hollywood isn’t real. I know that all too well. And I’m pretty. I’m also smart, talented, and creative. I’m more than the size of my jeans.
When he doesn’t immediately answer, I clear my throat and ask again. “Why are you here?”
“Just out for a jog.” He takes a small step toward me, a hand going to the back of his neck. His warm brown eyes take me in, strong jaw ticking as he traces my curves with his gaze.
I shiver, and it’s not from the chill of the wind. “Out for a jog. So you live around here?”
He shrugs. “Not far.”
I have no reason not to believe him. Lola said she ran into him and another player on the team at the grocery store nearby, but we’ve been here for over a month, and I’ve never seen him around. “And you just happened to be running past my house?”
“Is this your house?” he asks.
It’s not convincing, and I’m unsure how to feel about that. What game is he playing?
“I, uh, ran into your friend the other day. Did she tell you?”
“Uh-huh.”
He rubs the back of his neck and flinches. “Oh. Did she happen to give you my number?”
“She did.” I swallow hard. I’ve debated what to do with that number every single day. When I finally decided to open up my contact list and add it, seeing that it was the same number from all those years ago nearly knocked the wind from my lungs.
I never deleted his number, but I always assumed it had changed. Bash is famous in hockey circles, and I’ve had to change my number multiple times since I was eighteen because people leaked it. It would make sense that he’s had similar experiences.
“I never changed it,” he says softly, taking another half a step toward me. He’s close enough that I can smell the musk of his sweat and feel the radiating heat of his skin. “I had to be sure you could reach me if you needed me.”
Oh.
My heart flips, stutters, then picks up speed. He kept the same number for ten years in case I ever needed him? What the hell am I supposed to do with that information? It makes me ache, but it doesn’t change the fact that, ten years ago, he chose someone else.
So what was it? Guilt?
When I don’t say anything in response, Bash clears his throat. “You look good. Really good.” He lifts a hand to my face before thinking better of it and letting it drop back to his side. “I love the hair. It suits you, Rosebud.”
Rosebud. I wasn’t sure about the nickname at first. But after a few days of a fourteen-year-old Bash calling me that with an affectionate little smile, it didn’t feel like he was teasing me. No, it felt special. A secret endearment no one else had ever used.
It’s been ten years since I’ve heard the nickname, and it still launches a familiar flutter of butterflies to flight.
“Thanks.”
“Do you, um, do you have plans right now? I’d love to catch up. I could take you out to lunch or for a coffee?”
My knee-jerk reaction is to say no. To run away, barricade myself in the house, and demand Lola send him away. Because standing here with him now? It’s very clear that I was lying to myself about being desensitized to Sebastian Navarro. But he looks at me with such naked hope that the denial dies in my throat. “Not sure any place is going to let you in like that.” I motion to his bare chest. His very toned, very sexy, bare chest.
Do not start drooling, Indie.
Sebastian glances down at himself and chuckles. “I have a hoodie in my car.”
Okay. I had hoped that would give me an easy way out. “Don’t you have practice or something today?”
