Page 60 of The Perfect Snipe

“Choc’late.” My voice is barely recognizable as my throat begins to tighten, my tongue feeling like a lead weight in my mouth.

“Then why did you eat the cupcakes? You know red velvet is made with cocoa, right?”

“I thithn't know. I thon't bake!” Tears well up in my eyes, hot and stinging, as my chest constricts, each breath becoming more labored. Not sure if it’s also from the allergic reaction or panic because now I know I’m having an allergic reaction that’s getting worse by the second.

Leo jumps to his feet so fast the chair topples over, crashing to the floor. “We need to get you to the hospital. Now.”

Everything becomes a blur after that. Even when I grab my bag, fumbling for some Benadryl. Not that it matters because swallowing is damn near impossible. Leo's strong arms guide me to his car, his voice a constant reassurance in my ear.

The car lurches into motion, tires squealing against asphalt. The world outside becomes a dizzying smear of colors, streetlights and buildings blending into an incomprehensible mess as he runs red lights without hesitation.

Breathing feels like trying to suck air through a straw, each inhalation shallow and frantic. The pressure in my chest intensifies, and a pitiful whimper escapes my swollen lips as tears stream down my face, blurring my vision.

I’ve never been in this situation before. I have no idea what to do. I didn’t even know I’d react like this. I only know about the allergy because when I had chocolate as a kid I broke out in a rash. But this... this is something else entirely.

“It's okay, Cat. You're going to be okay,” He reaches across the center console, his large hand engulfing mine, and squeezes. “We’re almost there. I’ve got you. Okay? I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

He takes a hard right, and as we screech to a halt in front of the emergency room, only one thought manages to break through the panic—I really hope I get the chance to go on that date.

Chapter 25

Leo

The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the silence of Cat's hospital room. I lean forward in the uncomfortable chair, my elbows digging into my knees as I watch the rise and fall of her chest. The harsh fluorescent lights cast a sickly pallor over her skin, making her look more fragile than I've ever seen her.

It's wrong.

Cat's not fragile. She's a force of nature, all fire and sass and strength.

Her usually animated face is still, her features relaxed in a drug-induced sleep. The swelling in her lips has gone down, but the memory of her gasping for breath, her eyes wide with panic, is seared into my brain.

My heart clenches painfully in my chest, a physical ache that I can't shake off. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose her. The fear that gripped me was unlike anything I've felt since Wendy died. Something I never expected to feel again.

Fuck.

This thing with Cat . . . it’s not just attraction or fondness. Nope. It’s full-on, heart-stopping, terrifying love.

I love Catharina Alonso.

A fresh wave of panic crashes through me, my palms clammy again. Loving someone means opening myself up to loss, to abandonment. It means being vulnerable in a way I haven't allowed myself to be in years.

Not since Wendy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, the vibration startling in the quiet room. I unlock the screen and read the text.

Mom:I'm in the waiting room with the kids. How is she?

Me:Recovering. Be right out.

Luckily, Nora had been at home when Cat had the allergic reaction. Stella had called her as I got Cat to the car. Taking the kids along wasn’t an option; I didn’t want them to be so close if Cat didn’t make it.

But Nora was going to want to be there for her best friend, so once Cat was in the care of the medical staff, I reached out to my mother. And Wyatt took care of talking to Coach Kinnear because like hell was I leaving Cat alone to go to practice.

I stand, my joints popping in protest after hours of sitting. I stretch, trying to work out the kinks in my back, and take a deep breath before stepping out into the hallway. I wish Nora was still here. She left about an hour ago, and I could really use her calm, rational presence right about now. But, fuck, dealing with my mother right now . . . I’d rather someone else run interference. Actually, wouldn’t mind if Garrison Lund showed up.

My teammate looks like an enforcer for the mob. Acts like it too, on the ice at least. Not sure what he does off it. Another teammate I hardly know much about.

As I round the corner, I spot my family immediately. Stella is curled up in a chair, her head resting on Mason's shoulder. My son's arm is wrapped protectively around his sister, his face uncharacteristically serious. My mother paces back and forth, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

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