Page 195 of Like a Power Play
“Because I feel like an asshole!” I admit, tossing my hands up. “You had this job in your hands and had it ripped away from you. I don’t want to—Ican’tdo that to you. I feel terrible, Darcy. And I don’t want you to pretend like you’re okay with watching it happen if you aren’t.”
She stares at me, her arms tucked over her GU crewneck, red brows furrowed.
“I mean sure, it sucks. But it doesn’t suck any less to watch you take it. It would suck a thousand times more if youdidn’ttake it.” She sighs, her hand finding mine, grip tightening. Her eyes begin to gloss over, and she sniffs.
“Look at me. The only reason it sucks is because Ilost the lottery.And the truth is, if this call came from any other team in the Pacific Northwest, you’d have taken it without another thought. Don’t make yourself smaller to make me feel better. It doesn’t make me feel better. I want you tomove mountains.Break records. You can’t do that by giving up these opportunities.”
I swipe a tear from her cheek, letting it dissolve into my hand. “You’re crying,” I say softly, heart breaking at the sight of her.
“They’re happy tears.” She sniffles, offering a weak smile. But it doesn’t fool me.
“They’re notjusthappy tears,” I murmur, wiping another drop away. “And I’m not going to pretend they are.”
“They are, Peyton,” she insists, a watery laugh escaping her. “I’m so happy for you.”
I wrap my arms around her, needing her close. I breathe in her perfume, the warmth of her body pressing into mine.
“You can be happy for me and sad for you,” I say gently. “That’s allowed.”
Darcy’s teary eyes lift to meet mine, and this time, a stronger smile breaks through.
“I’m not letting you make this about me,” she says firmly, though more tears follow, tracing the soft lines of her heart-shaped face.
I kiss her forehead, then meet her gaze.
“It’s not. It’s aboutus. You and me. And yeah, I want to take it. But I’m not going to make that decision without factoring you in. You’re always a factor, Darcy.”
She leans in until her forehead rests against mine.
“You’re always a factor too,” she whispers. Her lips brush mine, then she pulls me into a kiss.
“You’re going to take it,” she whispers against my skin.
My hand finds her cheek, cupping it gently.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m going to take it.” I pause, then pull back just enough to flash her a teasing smile. “You know this means you’re a WAG, right?”
She blinks. “Wait, what?”
I shrug. “Rules are rules. You’re totally a WAG.”
She rolls her eyes. “Does the PWHL even have WAGs?”
I raise a brow, grinning. “I’m pretty sure the PWHLonlyhas WAGs.”
She stares at me for a beat, then we both burst out laughing.
Forty
Darcy
“Well if you’re ever desperate for cash, you could always turn your bedroom into a pawnshop,” Peyton says, tugging her sleeve over her hand to polish off a layer of dust from one of my trophies. Not to toot my own horn, but there’s a lot of them,
Thirty-seven to be exact.
They’re scattered around my room like beer cans at a country music festival except instead of polluting the environment and funding bigotry, they pollute my bedroom and fund my ego.
“You know they’re just gold-plated, right?” I respond, flicking a brow.
