Page 91 of Faking the Pucking Shot

My heart sinks into my feet as my eyes lift to the small window that looks out at the brick wall of the building next door.

It’s pointless, though. Even if I could see outside, I wouldn’t see Everett. He’s not here. He’s outside the building I told him I lived in.

The second I walked away from him last night, and he stayed to ensure I got inside safely, I knew I’d fucked up. But it was too late to go back on it. The lie was out.

I didn’t think I was going to pull it off, but when I looked over my shoulder and found him looking down at his cell, I bolted around the corner and hid until I was confident that he’d driven away.

Not my finest moment.

I then called a rideshare and got myself home.

What I should have done was get my car so I could have driven to work today, but that would have involved me concentrating long enough to drive, and I had zero confidence I’d have been able to do that. So I went home and, well…didn’t get any rest.

My heart begins to race, and my hands shake.

What the hell am I meant to do now?

Do I ignore him, get a ride to work, and pretend I didn’t see?

My stomach twists. No, I can’t do that.

If this were days after our hospital visit, then maybe I could have. He was a jerk that day, and he deserved to be left waiting outside a building I no longer live in.

But he was different last night. He’d lost the attitude he’d turned up with at the hospital. He was more…vulnerable, I guess. More himself.

He was open and honest, and he allowed me to see just a little bit of the man he really is, not the player he allows the world to see.

I can’t leave the Everett from last night sitting and waiting for nothing.

“Goddamn it.”

My thumb hovers over the call button, and I close my eyes before I tap it and lift my cell to my ear.

The dialing tone hits me like a ton of bricks, and I take a step back as my nerves continue to build.

“Hello?” His deep rasp flows through me, instantly putting me a little more at ease.

“Um…hi …”