Page 32 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“Fine,” she finally concedes, opening my camera, turning to her left, and capturing a softer image of herself.

“Happy?” I ask, already knowing that I’ll love it.

“I mean, I don’t look like I’m about to murder someone, so I guess it’s better than the previous one.”

“You looked hot,” I say before I can stop myself.

“I looked terrifying,” she argues.

“A woman who knows what she wants and gets it is always hot, in my opinion.”

She saves her image to her contact without responding to my comment before finally pulling up the app we really need.

Her thumb flies across my screen as she types her address in, and I try not to get carried away with myself at learning where she lives.

I try to picture what her home looks like, how it’s decorated, the kind of furniture she surrounds herself with, but just like all the times before, I can’t quite get a grasp on what she’d choose. I’m sure many would assume she’d live in a minimalist apartment with bold colors and harsh lines. Maybe she does. But something tells me that at home, she’s a softer version of the woman we all know and love. I like the idea that she has a million cute cushions and furry throws on her couch, along with an array of candles, and flowers.

“There,” she says, reaching out and putting my cell in the stand attached to the air vent.

“Let’s get you home then.”

“Yeah,” she muses as I put the car into drive and navigate us out of the parking lot.

The radio plays as we drive, but I don’t register anything that’s said or the songs that play. I’m too busy freaking out over the fact that Hailee Caldwell is sitting next to me, the sweet floral scent of her perfume filling the air and masking the damp smell I can’t get rid of.

“Didn’t you promise me a High School Musical playlist?” she eventually says, breaking the silence.

I chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I was distracted.”

“Glad you’re focused on driving.”

“I don’t remember the last two intersections we passed,” I confess. “I’m not distracted by driving.”

“Oh,” she breathes.

“This morning⁠—”

“Don’t,” Hailee begs, lowering her head.

“I just…I know you want me to forget about it. But…I don’t think that’s going to be possible. Yesterday, last night, this morning. Fuck, Hailee,” I mutter, dragging my hand down my face. “It’s like you knew what I needed when I didn’t even know myself. I need you to know how much I appreciate everything you did. I know you didn’t have to. I know I’m just the annoying rookie and that you had plenty of other things to be doing, but⁠—”

“Don’t do that,” she warns, cutting me off. “Don’t make out like what you’re going through is less important than anything else. And you’re not annoying, Hayden.”

I can’t help but smile.

“I’m not?”

“Well, okay, you have your moments. But not enough to stop me from being there if you need me.”

“And what if I need you again?”

She cuts me a look. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable this morning. I didn’t mean to…you know.”

Liar.

“It’s my fault for falling asleep."