Page 211 of Call the Shots
“Thank you,” he muttered. “Fucking thank you.”
“Be honest,” I whispered. “How much did that hurt?”
“Honestly? Hurt really fucking bad.”
“Thenwhy?”
“If we were having sex and you stabbed me—” He paused. “Conditional on…I was going to say if it was a life-threatening wound but if it was that bad, wouldn’t I want to go out on a high? Yeah, you could stab me, I’d probably keep going.”
“Men are so weird.”
“I’m being romantic, I wouldn’t let just anyone knife me. This is an ‘only you’ situation.”
Bear looked so serious when he said it too. I wanted to laugh but after everything that happened today, I kissed his chest and snuggled into him instead.
“Can I ask you something?” I whispered.
“Uh-huh. Always.”
“Do you want to be my date for my dad’s concession speech?”
“Awesome, got the invite—” He frowned. “Wait…concession…is that winning? I don’t think that’s winning.”
“This is a secret. My dad, who I love, has the exact same policies and politics as the incumbent?—"
“What’s an incumbent?”
“Current mayor. There’s no difference between them, no reason for a majority to actually vote for my dad. Every couple of years, my mom puts on a show because he wants to run but he never gets above twenty percent of the vote.”
“Holy shit.”
“My mom and I both know he won’t win. For a couple of years, it made me angry,” I admitted. “It’s like he’s shoveling money in a garbage disposal—especially since I don’t think my dad wants to be mayor, he only wants to be liked.”
“He could give that money away and make thirty best friends tomorrow.”
“He could fund actual politicians who want to change things for the better, build homeless shelters, create hundreds of scholarships, singlehandedly fund community pantries—” I shook my head. “I’ve tried talking to him, she’s tried talking to him…he promised this would be the last run if he doesn’t win.”
“Woah.”
“Mm-hmm. Want to come? If you give him a beer while he sits on the porch after the loss, you’ll become his favorite person.”
“Get close to my girlfriend’s dad? I’ll be there.”
“Bear?”
“Huh?”
I smiled. “You’re so cute.”
Bear Moreau—the six-foot-four defenseman who used to scowl through every social media video I took of him—dropped his eyes from my gaze. A flush crept up his neck that had nothing to do with the temperature of the bedroom.
CHAPTER 78
JUNE
NOW THIS IS UNHEALTHY
Upcoming finals meant staying awayfrom the team after hours. It was awful but it had to be done. At least Bear could be counted on for the highlights. In the middle of a study session with Willow, my phone rang.
