Page 167 of Snap Shot

“Landon.” He cuts me off, saving me from outing myself and calmly puts space between us. “You're fucking out of line. Sit your ass down.”

I warm the bench the rest of the night and skip press to hit the showers.

Indi never comes back to her seat.

Me:Where'd you go? You okay?

Her car isn't at her apartment building. I wait for thirty minutes before getting shooed from the curb by a meter maid. I drive back to my place and pull in next to her Audi.

“Indi?” My footsteps thud through the penthouse. “Indi!” I sigh with relief at finding her curled up under the covers in my bed. In my jersey. Just how it should be. “Baby?” I climb in next to her.

She casts a pained look in my direction.

“Say something.”

“I didn't want to go home.”

“That's okay.” This can be your home, too. I want to be your home.

Her sorry eyes fall on my busted lip. “You're hurt.”

I wince when her fingertips meet the open cut and force a dry chuckle. “You should see the other guy.”

“Landon.” Indi tuts. “What did you do?”

“You didn't see?”

She sinks her teeth into a corner of her lip. “I couldn’t be in the same space as him.”

I've never seen Indi make herself so small, so timid. That fucking idiot crushed her sweet spirit by showing up.

“You didn’t miss anything. It was a shitty game. Mostly brawls.” I don't know if it's okay to touch her right now, but I'm dying to. “Can I hold you?”

“Please.” She arches her waist from the mattress to allow my arm to slip under. “Did you win?”

“By a penalty shot.”

“Ouch.”

“Doesn't matter.” I pull her to my chest. She slots against me, notching her bare legs between mine. “I couldn't let that prick talk shit about you.”

Indi hides in my neck. It melts away whatever remains of my anger.

“What'd he say?”

My lips rub against her hairline. “I'm not gonna repeat it.”

“Go ahead.” Her eyes shut and brows raise. “Can’t be worse than the truth.”

Chapter 42: You’re Not Sunshine, You’re a Dark, Full Rain Cloud

Indi

Landon feels like home.

He's a safe haven, comforting in an expected, familiar way that sates my anxious soul. Like the reassuring, cozy welcome of your own bed after long hours at work or many tiring days of travel, the much-needed, if not slightly forced, embrace from loved ones after time apart, or the clean snap of a perfectly tempered favorite brand of chocolate.

The hardened shell of my heart has been chipped away by his unceasing affection. And the more I surrender to the belief that what we're doing right now is temporary, the more he shows up for me. The more he proves himself as above and beyond any dusty notions of love I'd resigned for myself. I tell him the truth.

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