Page 113 of Hit Me With Your Best Shot

My dog sneezes.

I shake my head, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips. “No, I get it. You’re right. Cardigans are sexy.”

Never judge a girl wearing a cardigan.

Damn straight.

“Look, I know I’m not exactly a hockey WAG or a puck bunny, whatever they call them,” I say, my voice softer now. “And I know I’ll probably embarrass myself at least a dozen more times before this relationship is over, but…” I trail off, biting my lip as the thought forms. “He chose me, didn’t he?”

Gio barks.

By the time we circle back to my apartment, I feel a little lighter, a little less trapped in my own head. Gio prances happily inside, pleased with our stroll, and I can’t help but smile as I unclip his leash.

Within seconds he’s gone, off like a shot to grab a toy.

21

gio

My sister isn’t responding to her text messages.

Weird.

Usually, she’s glued to her phone, rapid-firing back sarcastic replies or random memes that don’t make sense half the time. Tonight though?

Radio silence.

I’ve called twice, too. Straight to voicemail.

The knot in my stomach tightens as I head down to her apartment. It’s probably nothing. Maybe she left her phone at work or went out with friends. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. She’s my sister. I know her better than anyone else, and this isn’t like her.

While I’m in the elevator, I shoot Austin another message.

Odd that she hasn’t gotten back to me, either?

Not that I expect her to be waiting by her cell, but still. We’re in that honeymoon phase and can’t get enough of each other…

After a long day of practice, my body is beat down and tired. My shoulders ache, my legs feel like lead, and all I want—theonlything I want—is to talk to one of the two leading ladies in my life. Is that so wrong?

A quick message. A phone call. Anything to remind me thatthe world isn’t just weights, drills, and endless team meetings. But no. I get nothing.

Not from my sister, not from Austin.

Fuck. Is this what pouting feels like?

I WANT ATTENTION. IS THAT SO WRONG?

The elevator dings, and I step out into the hallway. Her apartment is all the way at the end of the hall, and with every step I take, my mind spirals. Is she sick? Hurt? God, please don’t let this be one of those horror movie scenarios where I walk in and find her body on the— No.

She’s probably taking a nap. Or a shower.

She’s fine.

When I turn the corner to her apartment, I slow down.

Laughing.

I hear laughing…

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