Page 92 of Enticing the Enforcer
Her arms cross, defensive, diamonds flashing at her ears. “How do you explain that list as anything other than proof that I was just another name to screw your way through?”
Fuck. This isn’t going how I wanted, but I’m not ready to give up. I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded piece of notebook paper. The thing is battered, edges worn soft. I hold it up like evidence. “This. Yeah, it’s real. It’s stupid and shallow and exactly what you think it is. Freshman-year me thought it was clever to write down every girl I thought was hot, every girl I wanted to hook up with before graduation. Models, sorority girls, puck bunnies. You name it.”
“Classy,” she mutters, eyes sharp.
“I know.” My voice cracks. “But what you don’t know is this–your name? It’s at the top. And it’s the only one not crossed out.”
Her brows pull together, suspicion warring with confusion. “If you’re trying to impress me with something, I’m missing the point.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “The day I met you, you stopped being a name. You became real. Too real. And I couldn’t reduce you to a checkbox. Couldn’t risk losing what I felt for the sake of bragging rights.”
The silence that follows is heavier than the waves crashing against the shore. She looks at me, searching, like she wants to find a crack in the story.
“I left it on my desk that day, shoved between the pages of a history assignment,” I say, holding the page out. “And I never looked at it again. Because the list didn’t matter anymore. You did.”
Her throat works as she swallows, gaze darting from the paper to my face. “You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you to believe me.” The words come out harsher than I want, but fuck it. I’m going all in, because that’s what I want from her–all of it. I step forward and take her face in my hands. “I expect you to believe what you’ve seen when I look at you. When I’m with you. When I’minyou.” Her eyes widen. “I’m not perfect, Angel, but I swear to God, you were never just a name on a piece of paper.”
Her lips press together, trembling at the edges. For the first time tonight, she doesn’t look like steel. She looks like Ingrid–the woman who took a chance on me for no real goddamn reason other than curiosity.
And I realize I’m waiting for her to decide if she’s going to walk away or let me back in.
“I want to believe you,” she whispers finally, her voice raw. “But you don’t know what it’s like to always wonder if you’re just another conquest. Another headline for Madison to spin.” Her throat works as she swallows. “I’ve spent years being told my value is in what I can do for others, not in being loved. And then you–” she breaks off, shaking her head. “You were supposed to be different.”
I step closer, slow, like approaching a wild animal I don’t want to spook. “Iamdifferent.”
Her eyes flash, pained. “But then I found out about that list. And Madison…” Her jaw trembles, but she clenches it shut before tears can fall. “Madison knew. She let me think, she let mefallfor you, while keeping that in her back pocket, waiting for the moment it would hurt the most. And it worked. Because it hit the one fear I can’t shake.”
“Which is?” I press gently.
Her gaze lifts to mine, shimmering but fierce. “That no matter how strong I pretend to be, I’ll always just be someone’s prize. Someone’s win on the way to building themselves into something more.”
The words gut me. I want to crush the list in my fist, burn it, bury it, anything to erase the proof of who I was before her. But instead I hold her gaze steady.
“I’ve got trophies, Angel. They’re shiny and the victory feels amazing, but it’s fleeting. Once it’s over, there’s another game, another match, another championship on the horizon. You’re not a conquest or a prize. You’re the person that I want to come home to every single day. You’re the woman that makes life less about me and more about what I can be for you.”
Her breath catches, shoulders rigid, and for a moment I think she’s going to bolt back inside. But she doesn’t. She just stands there, letting me see the cracks in her armor.
It’s time I showed her the cracks in mine.
My chest is tight. “You think you’re the only one who’s scared here?” My voice is low, rough. “I’ve never cared about anyone like this. Not the girls before you, not my teammates, not even the game. I spent my whole life thinking that monogamy wasn’t something I wanted, and then you show up and turn that upside down. And that scares the shit out of me.” I shake my head, swallowing hard. “The thought of losing you fucked me up.”
Her eyes flicker, softening, but she doesn’t speak. She just studies me, like she’s trying to decide if she can trust what she sees. I lower my hand to her hip, anchoring her to me. “I don’t want to play games with you, Ingrid. I don’t want to chase headlines or elevate my image. I just wantyou. All of you.” I let out a breath, finally saying what I should’ve said weeks ago. “I love you.”
Her lips part, her breath uneven, and in the silence that follows, I feel like I’ve laid my entire soul bare at her feet.
It’s absolutely fucking terrifying.
For a second, the only sounds are the strains of the party from inside and the ocean crashing against the shore, steady and relentless. That and the thundering of my own pulse. I’ve said the words, put myself all the way out there, and it feels like standing on the edge of a cliff waiting to see if she’ll jump with me.
Her lips tremble. She blinks fast, like she’s fighting tears. “I love you, too.”
The words slam into me, knock the air straight out of my chest. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear them until now. I never even knew I needed them. Not until Ingrid walked into my life and walked right back out.
She exhales shakily, eyes shining. “That’s why it hurt so much. That’s why I was so angry. Because the thought of being nothing more than a name on your list–just another story–it would’ve destroyed me. You could destroy me.”
My fingers curl around her waist. “I’d rather destroy myself first.”
