Page 47 of His Last Shot
Johnny: Ouch. I’ll pretend that didn’t hurt.
Me: I hate to ask. But can you pick me up and take me?
Johnny: I’ll be there. Text me your address.
Johnny: And explain again why I’ve never been to your house yet?
There aresomany reasons for that, Johnny. I chuckle as I text him my address.
Me: Thank you.
Johnny: No thanks necessary. Be there soon.
Nerves erupt in my gut as I take in what I’m wearing.Well, this won’t work.Just because there is a distance between us doesn’t mean I can’t bring it when I’m with him.
I race to my bedroom and replace my leggings with my favorite dark denim ripped jeans. Whipping off my Ohio State t-shirt onto my bed, I run to my closet and grab my favorite vintage Aerosmith t-shirt. The one that is V-necked and hugs my body like a second skin.
Heart pounding, I race to the mirror, turning side to side, checking every angle. I smile.Yep, this is the one.With only a few minutes left, I hurriedly apply a little more mascara and blush, then finish with a quick swipe of eyeshadow and lip gloss. Now I have to do something with my unwashed hair.
With no time to spare, I throw my hair into a super cute Pinterest-worthy high ponytail. One last once-over in the mirror, and I have to admit, I look decent. And kinda pretty.
I rub my sweaty palms over my jeans when the doorbell rings.
My nerves are shot as I grab my crossbody bag and throw it over my shoulder. Before I open the door, I inhale deeply to steady myself.
How this man affects me is unreal.
You’re only going to the doctor’s, Rachel. He’s basically your Lyft.
A hot Lyft driver, but whatever.
And who knows? We could get some dinner after. If he’s up for it because I need to apologize for everything. It’s a long shot, but worth a try.
With a wide smile, I swing the door open, and the balmy early June air smacks me in the face as my eyes immediately find him. Smiling and looking incredible, as usual.
And holding the hand of the cutest girl I have ever seen.
Not gonna lie. I’m mildly disappointed here.
From our texts, I assumed that he would have already dropped off Mallory at home before coming to get me. Wrongly assumed, because here she is. Holding her cousin’s hand, scared to death.
And now I feel terrible because I’m pretty sure I have messed up their routine.
My attention darts from him to Mallory. “Oh, hi.”
“Hey, Rachel. I didn’t have time to drop Mallory off. I hope that’s okay,” he says with a hint of remorse.
Dismissively, I wave my hand in the air. “No. No. It’s fine. I’m the one interrupting your day.”
A tight knot forms in my gut as I realize I should introduce myself to Mallory, so I extend my hand. Are you supposed to shake hands with kids? I have no clue. “Hey, Mallory. My name is Rachel.”
Her eyes immediately avert away from mine as if looking at me makes her uncomfortable. She takes a step closer to Johnny, not taking my hand, and instead grabs his. “Hi,” she replies, the greeting soft and sweet.
I lower my hand. “I hope it’s okay with you that Cousin Johnny helps me out.”
She looks up at Johnny with a wide, concerned expression. “I don’t have to go into the doctor’s, do I?”
He rubs a soft, tender hand down her head, his voice sweeter and calmer than I have ever heard it. “No. Of course not. Remember, we talked about this in the truck.”
