Page 8 of Shoot Your Shot

The noble thing to do would be to bow out and let her go. I’m damaged and fucked up. I had known that already, but me sabotaging my marriage only confirmed it more.

I shift the truck into park and kill the engine before slowly pushing the door open. My body is tense, and my mind feels like I’m on the fucking Gravitron at the local fair. Her father is the reason why I made it to the NHL—he’d taken me out of my broken home with no opportunities and welcomed me into his home and brought me onto his team.

For weeks after she left, he called me. And I ignored every one of his calls.

How the hell am I going to look him in the eye?

Once I’m out of the truck, for a minute, my feet are planted on the ground, almost like there’s fucking quicksand under my shoes, keeping me stuck here. I rub my hands togethernervously, running my fingers over my wedding ring before forcing myself to walk toward the door.

I’m at the door when I hear laughter coming from inside. I’d know that laugh anywhere. It’s my wife’s. But the question is, who the fuck is making her laugh that hard? I always lived to do that—to bring that sweet sound out of her lips. I guess, selfishly, I assumed she hadn’t been laughing much these days since she’d left. I sure as fuck haven’t.

When I peer inside the window, my fists ball at my sides, and my jaw tightens.

“Motherfucker,” I hiss under my breath as I take in the sight of her talking to Dexter fucking Johnson. A guy who’s always been around as a family friend, but I never liked the way he looked at her a little too long.

My hand reaches for the door, but I stop myself, and for a moment, I just watch.

She laughs again, and her eyes squeeze together, crinkling at the sides the way I’ve always loved so much.

As much as it fucking hurts me to see—and even more to admit to myself—there’s no denying that she looks … happy.

Happier than she was with me right before she walked out the door.

For months before she left, she hadn’t laughed that hard. And that was all because every ounce of her was lost in trying for a baby. And in the end, it’s my fault she couldn’t have one. Even now, she probably thinks she was the problem when, all along, it was me.

Taking a few steps backward, I suck in a sharp breath, hoping it will help this burning sensation in my chest. I came here today to get her back. To tell her the truth about why I’d pushed her away, hoping and praying she’d come home with me after so we could figure everything out together.

I can’t continue to bring her down. Especially not when it looks like she’s doing perfectly fine now.

Taking off toward my truck, I climb in and slam the door. I turn the key, making it roar to life before quickly backing out of their driveway and tearing off down the road. Knowing damn well she’s better off without me.

She’s whole. I’m … fucking broken. I have been since I was a kid, and the only person who could ever make things better is clearly happier without me in her life.

I’m not a noble man. I fuck up everything I touch. I’m not doing that anymore. It’s time to let her go.

I roll my window down and drag my hand down my face, wiping tears away with my palm to clear my eyes. My mind wanders back to eleven years ago, and I wish so fucking badly I had a time machine to take me back. I don’t know what I’d do differently. I can’t say I regret her because I love her too much for that. But, fuck, I’ve never felt pain like this in my life.

“Come near her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” I pushed my arm harder into Brandon’s chest. I could see the fear in his eyes and feel his heart pounding nervously against my hand. I loved that I could fucking feel it. He should be scared. “You know what? Don’t even fucking look at her again.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Paige’s friends gathering around her as she cried.

A few minutes prior, I had seen Brandon lead her into the hallway. My gut told me to follow them. She might have come to homecoming with the guy, but he had given me weird vibes since the first time I’d met him. And when I went into the hallway and heard her yelling from a closet, I knew she was in trouble. And I was right because I’d found him trying to rip her dress off against her will.

I’d wanted to be her date more than anything. But how the hell would that have worked when her dad had moved me and my brother in as a charity case and I knew that was my only shot to ever be noticed on the ice enough to play college hockey? If Coach learned I wanted his baby girl, he’d surely send me right back to my shithole of a home on the other side of town.

Just when Brandon was gasping for air, I pulled my arm back, landing him in a crumpled-up pile at my feet before kicking him once. Not enough to send him to the hospital, but hard enough that he knew I wasn’t fucking around.

Taking a few strides toward Paige, I cupped her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

She nodded quickly, and her nostrils flared as she dragged in a shaky breath. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Good.” I released her face and looked back at Brandon to see him still on the floor. Grabbing her hand in mine, I tipped my chin up toward my brother. “Make sure that motherfucker doesn’t bother another single girl.” I pause. “You know what? On second thought, make sure he finds the fucking exit and leaves the premises.”

He nodded in understanding, telling me we were on the same page. “You know I will.”

Looking down at Paige, I pulled her against me. “Let’s go.”

I couldn’t really understand it myself, but I had this need inside of me to protect her at all costs. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to know her that well and yet … I just wanted to keep her safe. And even more … I wanted her to feel safe too.

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