Page 31 of Pucks and Books

I nod. “Or it could be Mikayla to the second power.”

Even saying the words, I know that Louisa isn’t even a tiny bit like Mikayla. For one, she’s not a cunt.

Cruz shrugs, holding my gaze. “Listen, I know what she did, but how are you supposed to find a woman to live this life with if you don’t give anyone more than your dick?”

He isn’t wrong, but giving more means giving my heart. I’ve locked that sucker down. But one night with Louisa, and the case I have it in is cracking a bit.

More reason to run.

“And now, our captain, Ciaran Carter.”

With a heaviness in my soul, I walk up to accept my jersey with the C on it. I should be excited. I should be stoked—proud, even—but I just feel empty.

CHAPTER 19

Ciaran

The C on my jersey should really stand for Coward.

I sit in my truck across from Dirty Pages. I don’t usually go in through the front, so I’ve never had the chance to take in the breathtaking view of the front of the shop. The windows that run from floor to ceiling are open today, the golden curtains tied back to let the sun in. Mums in all the fall colors cover every free space, along the walkway, below the windows. In the town of Christmas, Louisa’s store looks more like a shop belonging in the show Wednesday. Everyone else is red, green, and white, but Louisa’s shop is made of black brick.

It’s stunning. It’s her. And I’m dying inside.

On the large black door is the sign for the store, which is a stack of books with a feather duster dusting the top of them. It’s a great play on both the name of the shop and what Louisa sells. It’s genius, really, and I wish I could tie her up and run feathers all over her body until she’s a trembling mess and her lips can’t form anything but my name.

But that won’t be happening.

I swallow as I spin my phone in its holder. It’s probably not the best thing to do to my phone, but I’m anxious. I know I should go in, be honest with her, but I can’t. I know if I do, I’ll have her under that desk and gone will be my sense of self-preservation. I’ll give her all of me, and fuck what happens.

I’ll have her.

I bite my lip when I see her moving through the shop. She’s stacking books, and I assume it’s all the preorders for Tuesday. She’s wearing a pair of tight leggings and a lacy cropped shirt that I notice covers her top completely. I didn’t notice until now that she hides the scars that I want to know everything about. That I want revenge for.

I want to protect her. I want to make sure no one ever hurts her again, but knowing she could break me keeps me from doing so. It’s pathetic. I know I’m a coward. But all I know is how to run. It’s all I’ve ever done. I let my head fall back, squeezing my eyes shut to try to clear my mind, but it isn’t working.

I don’t want to do this.

I want to go in there. I want to gather her in my arms and ask how she slept. I want to admit that I didn’t sleep at all. That I’m struggling because I want her—God, I want her—but I’ve been hurt so badly, and I don’t ever want to feel that pain again. Throwing this wall up, though, is going to hurt her. Which will hurt me. So really, I’m fucked no matter what I do. Though, the pain now will only be a sting compared to the heartbreak that would ruin us later.

I lift my head to watch her a bit more, and I clench my hands because I want to grab her so badly. I could help her with the books. I could hold her as we both read and maybe reenact what has us curious. I could let myself be with her.

I know I can’t wait much longer.

I reach for my phone and reluctantly dial her number. I watch as she puts a pen in her mouth, setting down the papers she holds, and then she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. I watch as her eyes light up, a wide grin spreading across her beautiful face before taking the pen out of her mouth. She gives a little wiggle, and my heart swells in my chest.

Then promptly shatters.

“Hey, you.”

I hesitate, my lungs not even working as my heart begs me not to do this. “Hey, Lou.”

I can’t take my eyes off her as she dances in a circle, her joy at my call gutting me deeply. I’m such a fucking coward. “I have to say, I’m excited to hear from you.”

I close my eyes, letting my head fall to the steering wheel. I slam my head into it, over and over, as I speak. “Sorry I didn’t call last night. My roommate’s car was a whole thing, and then I got back late.”

“No worries. You’re calling now.”

Not with the intention I know we both want is what I want to say, but I don’t. “Yeah, listen. I need to be honest with you.”

---