Page 134 of Hot Shot

His fist cuts through the air, and my body reacts so fast, it’s operating outside of my control. I lean out of the way, and when I rise, my fist arches in a hook, connecting with his jaw as he rebounds from his failed punch.

Ohhhh No. Oh, fuck. Did not mean to do that.

Goddamn did it feel good, though.

The bones in my right hand scream, knuckles skinned, I notice when I reach out to catch him by the front of his stupid fleece vest. He’s reeling, staggering backward making a noise between a wail and a moan. He falls flat on his ass, half sitting, fully shocked. The other coaches rush to him, but he’s already shouting all kinds of shit at me, wiping blood from his busted lip. When they get him on his feet, he shakes them off and spits out a gob of blood. He sneers, his teeth pink and bloody.

“I’m fucking pressing charges, you piece of shit.”

I don’t say anything, but I put my hands down and pin him with a look I have a feeling is scathing because he can’t hold my gaze. I’d smile if I wasn’t worried about the repercussions of what I did. Doesn’t matter if he swung first or if I didn’t mean to hit him or if he deserved it.

This asshole doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to let shit go.

I wonder how far he’ll go to punish me?

CHAPTER 49

POURED OUT

CASS

We stayed home from the tournament Sunday.

Wilder was already scheduled to work, but we decided after all the drama that Cricket and I should hang back too. A weather system moving in our direction hit in the afternoon, raining out all the evening games. Cricket and I spent the gloomy day watching movies and eating our Sonic, and by the end of the day, I had a feeling that tots, limeades, andPrincess Diarieshad at least quieted Saturday’s upset.

Thankfully, Cricket didn’t see Wilder hit Avery’s dad—her back was turned—but I did. It happened so fast, too fast to even process. Suddenly, the guy was on the ground and Wilder was backing up with his hands in front of him. The whole thing was a mess. Patty and Paul took Cricket and me home before the police showed up, and when Wilder finally came home a couple hours after, he looked like hell.

Cricket was shaken up and confused. I was overwhelmed. Wilder was exhausted, avoiding arrest thanks to the many witnesses who made sure the police knew Avery’s dad took thefirst swing. But the whole ordeal was long and intense and scary for the kids. We’re not entirely sure the rec league will want him to keep coaching.

I’m also not sure what kind of retaliation we’ll experience, but I hope it’s minimal, for all our sakes.

School Monday is quieter than I expected, potentially because Cricket is glued to me all day. She sat next to me at recess and I didn’t encourage her otherwise, not today, with Avery circling the playground like a hawk. At lunch, she asked to eat in the library with Molly, and I agreed. In class, she’s safe enough. And at the end of the day when the bell rings, I only leave Cricket to take the kids down to their respective dismissal lines.

I hate that it’s come to this, that there’s nothing I can do. There’s no way to protect her like I want to.

All I want is for her to be okay. But I have no idea how.

When I get back to the quiet classroom, Wilder is standing next to the cubbies, helping her into her jacket.

The second he looks at me, I feel a thousand pounds lighter, a smile easing onto my face.

Within a second, my face is buried in his chest, breathing up the scent of him like a freak and preening like a fat, happy cat in his arms.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me. “Hey.”

“Hi. How was your day?”

“Better now that I’m here with my girls.”

The pitter patter of my heart flushes my cheeks. How can one person affect my happiness and comfort so completely? How was I so dumb as to ever let this go?

I’ll never makethatparticular mistake again.

“C’mon, Daddy.” Cricket tugs at his hand. “We’re gonna be late!”

When I let Wilder go, it’s to smooth her hair. “You’re awfully excited for therapy today.”

She shrugs. “Miss Shannon said I get to pick from the prize bucket, and I saw a little pink finger monster I really, really want.” She sticks her index finger in the air and hooks it, saying on a giggle, “He has crazy teeth. Like me!” The exaggerated grin displays so many teeth, I can count her molars.

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