Page 56 of Shoot Your Shot

“Stand up,” I command before stepping back and pulling my briefs and sweatpants on.

When she stands, I point toward her panties. “Give me your panties, Buttercup.”

For a moment, she frowns. But then she looks hopeful, like she’s thinking we might be headed for round two. When she peels them off, I hold my hand out, and she stares at my palm.

“What?” she whispers. “Why … do you—”

“Hand them over, or there won’t be orgasms of any kind until you make your decision.”

Quickly, she thrusts them into my hand, and I close my fingers around them.

“It’s like you poured water over them, baby,” I growl lowly. “That’s how fucking soaked they are.”

I hold them up for her to see once more before stuffing them into my pocket. “If you leave me again, at least this time, I’ll have these to come into instead of my hand.”

Her eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open.

I wink. “Go get ready for our walk, Buttercup. Time’s ticking.”

Unsteadily, she wobbles on shaky legs into the bathroom. I might not have fucked her or even touched her pussy, but that woman is fully fucking satisfied.

Nothing like it.

Ichuckle mutely at the sound of Paige huffing next to me, knowing if she catches me, she’ll probably give me a dirty look, which will actually be funny. We didn’t run for long, and even though she said it was because I shouldn’t overdo it, I know my wife enough to know the woman hates running more than she hates grocery shopping in an actual store—and that’s saying a lot. She might be in good shape. As a physical therapist, she has to be. It would look bad if not. But running isn’t a part of her routine, and that certainly hasn’t changed.

“Why would anyone sign themselves up to run a marathon?” she breathes out, her cheeks an adorable shade of bright red. “I mean, for real. Why would someone in their right mind put themselves through that?”

Her little legs are working hard to keep up with mine, so I slow down a bit.

“You hike,” I say before pausing. “At least, you used to. When we first moved to Maine and up until, you know …”

“Until we separated?” She raises a brow. “As much as the words suck to say, guess we should probably get used to saying them. And, yeah, well, what else is there to do here?” she half jokes. “I’m not into putting on some camouflage and killing animals, I don’t have the patience for fishing, and I don’tknit.” She shrugs. “Had to pick up something. Figured, why not hiking?”

“You have a point.” I nod in agreement. “Could have joined one of those women’s bowling leagues.”

“My mom was on that when I was a kid.” She smiles. “I have no idea why. The woman is not good at bowling. I’ve seen her.” She glances up at me. “I feel like that’s a thing moms used to do just to get out of the house and away from their kids.” She snorts. “Was your mom on a—” She stops mid-sentence, cringing. “I don’t even know what I was thinking, asking you that. I’m sorry, Kolt.”

Reaching down, she touches my hand sympathetically, but when she drops her hand, I catch it.

“It’s fine. Really. My childhood, as fucked up as it was, is in the past. While my mom might not have been able to do normal things, like join women’s bowling leagues, she’s doing good now. She’s taking some baking classes, and she seems to be okay.” I squeeze her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Buttercup.”

The air between us is suddenly thicker as she looks up at me through tear-soaked lashes, her lip trembling.

“Kolt, I’llalwaysworry about it,” she whispers. “Because I will always worry about you.”

“I know,” I manage to say, giving her a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to though, okay?”

“That isn’t true.” She sniffles, and I pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her body and holding her tight. Her body stiffens, and she looks down. “But there’s something else you should know. Something … big. Something that adds on to the pile of shit we’ve been dealt.”

“What do you mean?” I utter, scared for what she’s going to tell me.

She swallows hard before finally lifting her eyes back to mine. “I didn’t run away from you just because I was mad last night,Kolt.” As she says the words, there’s an unreadable sort of emotion on her face.

I know my wife better than I know anyone, but even I don’t know how to prepare for what is about to come from her pretty lips.

“So, why did you then?” I force myself to say, even though I’m fucking terrified of the answer.

“Remember when I first moved back in and you saw I had tampons, so you brought out the heating pad and Motrin for me because you figured I’d be in a lot of pain?”

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