Page 50 of His Last Shot
I know what he wants. And he has been so patient with me. So kind. So perfect. So Johnny.
His right hand instinctively leaves the steering wheel and moves across the console, his fingers crawling against the cool leather. My hand creeps to meet his. The moment our fingertips touch, there’s a sense of undeniable connection, our skin grazing, our eyes searching.
Every time he looks at me, I’m weightless, as if I’m floating. The way he finds me from across the bar while cleaning sends shivers of ecstasy along my spine. And how his eyes meet mine before he takes a shot on tournament nights fulfills me. Or the way he always searches for me when the bar is wall-to-wall bodies gives me purpose. And the way he’s pinning me with a stare right now. Like to him, no one else matters. I’m the only woman in his whole orbit.
HONK!
We both jump and jerk our hands back. The sudden, jarring blare of a car horn behind us breaks the spell.
“Johnny, the light is green,” Mallory chimes in from the back seat.
He shifts in his seat and refocuses on the road as he rolls the truck forward. “Thanks, Mal Pal.”
I smooth my ponytail down, attempting to clear my head of the lingering effects of too much Johnny, his touch still clinging to me like a second skin.
How does this man have such a powerful hold over me? The question stirs up a mixture of confusion, fascination, and curiosity.
I turn back around to address Mallory, hoping she will help ground me back to reality. “Mal Pal, huh? Is that your nickname?”
“Yep!” she exclaims proudly. “My Daddy calls me that. And so does Cousin Johnny, but only them, so you can call me Mallory.”
Of course, he’s the only one with an adorable nickname for her. So much for the redirection.
“I like you,” she says matter-of-factly. “Can you and Johnny get married?”
I giggle.
Johnny groans.
Well, I was right. The doctor delivered some pretty crappy news. My blood work is a mess, and now he wants to prescribe a steroid to help with my inflammation.
Fantastic.
Something inside gnaws at me. There has to be better care out there, right? My brother keeps urging me to check out the Cleveland Clinic, so maybe it’s time.
All of this weighs heavily on my mind as Johnny pulls into his cousin’s driveway and kills the engine. I scoop the last of my ice cream into my spoon and shove it into my mouth, the coolness helping with my nerves. Because also, once Mallory is gone, it’s only going to be me and Johnny.
Alone in his truck.
Which is causing way more anxiety than my health.
Mallory jumps out, ice cream cone in hand, without a second to spare.
“Mallory, wait!” Johnny hollers as he bolts out of the truck, and she stops halfway up the walk to meet him. With a gentle hold, he places his hand on her shoulder and squats to get to her eye level. He’s talking to her in a calm, soothing voice, a low murmur that barely carries as she glances my way, her tongue swiping across the sweet, cold treat.
She nods in agreement as Johnny rises, and she takes his hand, heading in my direction, her mouth still working on the cone.
He opens my door, and I have no idea what is about to happen. “Go ahead, Mal Pal.”
“I forgot to say bye to you, Rachel. I’m sorry.” She makes eye contact with me. Surprise flashes across Johnny’s face. “I hope your doctor appointment went well,” she says with a small, shy smile.
God, she is adorable.
My heart melts, and I can’t help but smile back. I may be halfway in love with Johnny, but I’ve already fallen in love with Mallory. “It was nice to meet you today, Mallory. I hope I see you again soon.”
Johnny whips to me, his smile almost painful in its eagerness at the mention of me seeing his family again. There was something underlying in my words.
Hope.
