Page 59 of Hot Shot
Burying my face in her hair, I take what feels like my first deep breath in hours. Inhaling her sweet scent. Even after sitting in a crowded arena surrounded by booze, sweat, and stadium food, she still smells like cakes and baked goods.
Happiness.
She relaxes into me. I like knowing I have the same effect on her. We stand that way for a few minutes before she carefully extracts herself from my arms.
“I was really worried about you, hot shot,” she whispers, taking my hand and leading me into my living room. “But you scored another goal! Fuck yeah.” She pumps her fist in the air, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Thank you.” I take a seat on the sofa and pull her down next to me. “I’m fine. I’ll probably be out for a couple of games but nothing serious.”
“I was afraid you’d blame me for you getting hurt.” Her voice is shaky and I swear I see tears in her eyes.
What the fuck? Blame her? Why the hell would I do that?
“Sweets.” I reach over to wrap my arm around her, trying to hide the grimace when I move my left shoulder.
“See that. Right there.” She rears back and gestures to my face.
“If we’re going to be together, you’re going to have to get used to me getting hurt. Coming home with bruises, cuts, and who knows what else. It’s going to happen, probably every season, at least once or twice. More if we make it to the finals.”
“I know.” She blows out a breath.
I tilt my head, furrowing my eyebrows. “Why would you think I’d blame you for my injury?”
“Because I was there. You were distracted. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Can you try to explain it to me? Please. I want to know what’s going on in your head.”
She drops her head to her hands and stays silent for so long that I think she’s fallen asleep.
Finally, she looks up at me and says, “Promise you won’t laugh or judge me.”
“Never, Madison.” I study her face, trying to figure out what she’s going to tell me, but she’s so hard to read tonight. Like she’s holding a part of herself back from me. I hate it.
“I told you part of the story about what happened between my best friend and me, but not all of it.” She pauses and I nod.
She takes a deep breath. “We grew up together. He’s the reason I moved to Nashville after I finished school. It’s where he was. I wanted to be close to my best friend. We spent the next five years being friends. I guess I thought it was never the right time for us to be together. He worked a lot.
“There were months where we didn’t see each other much, but we always texted. When we did spend time together, it was perfect, or it felt like it was. We both dated people but the guys I dated were never good enough for me, he made that abundantly clear. I thought that was his way of saying he was the only one good enough. Finally, earlier this year I confronted him about it. Told him how I felt. And he . . .”
She trails off, and as much as I want to punch this EJ jerk in the face for the way he treated her, I need to know the rest of the story.
I shift closer to her and reach for her hand, entwining our fingers. She stares down at our joined hands for a couple of seconds before continuing.
“He told me I had misread the signs. We got into a big fight about it. He stormed out of his apartment. That wouldn’t have been that bad in the long run. I guess.
“But the next day he got hurt on the job. Blamed me. Told me I’d distracted him with everything I’d said the night before. Said it was probably best we didn’t talk for a while because he needed to focus on himself, on his career.” Her voice trails off.
“Madison, I—“ She interrupts me with a small shake of head.
“I was devastated. After the dust settled, I realized it was for the best. He was right, we are better off as friends. He’s a partier, always had been, even with a grueling job. He needs to be around people to thrive. I’d rather be at home.” She shrugs.
“His career will always come first to him. I get it. He’s living his dream. Not long after, the cake shop I’d worked at closed. I didn’t know what to do next so I made the decision to move here, start over, and be closer to my aunt. I sold most of my belongings. Packed up. Came here.”
Fuck, that breaks my heart. Bastard.
I pull her into my arms, her back to my front. Wrapping my arms around her, I lean against the armrest of the sofa, Madison between my legs. I close my eyes, even though she can’t see me, and take a deep breath.
“I have a half brother.”
