Page 64 of Shots Fired

I’m wearing my favorite gray button-down shirt and black dress pants, and I made sure to apply what I know is her favorite cologne—the spicy one Darcy inhales whenever she’s near me.

And I want her close to me all the fucking time. Twenty-four/seven.

When people start filtering out from the address for the chess club Darcy gave me last night, excitement thrums through me as I wait to catch a glimpse of the girl I haven’t seen in nearly a week.

Away series used to be one of my favorite times, but not anymore. Now I’m in the same camp as most of my teammates—wishing time away so I can get back to my girl in Brooklyn. I can’t get enough of her smile, bright clothes, and addictive personality. She bleeds into me like osmosis, and I soak every last drop of her up, hungry and desperate and never feeling fully satisfied.

Life before Darcy Thompson is a blur to me. I’ve got the images in my phone to prove I was alive back then, that my lungs were working and my heart was beating. Only I wasn’t really living; I was existing, waiting for Darcy to walk into my life and give me purpose aside from securing shutouts on the ice. That isn’t the kind of feeling you can let go of. Even if I wanted to forget about her, I’m not sure it would be possible. I feel grounded when I’m around her, locked in on whatever she’s saying, eager to know what she’s thinking and will say next.

Perhaps my initial fascination was sparked because she didn’t fall at my feet like other women had, and I saw it as a challenge. But whatever it was that drew me in, there’s no going back now.

On the flight home, I found myself researching sudoku so I could sit on the couch and play alongside her in the evenings. That’s how far removed I feel from my previous life, and I’m not mad about it at all. Not one bit.

Every time she swoons at my thigh tattoo, I get a hit that feeds my addiction to her. Not because she runs her soft palm over it each time we’re naked together, more because it reminds me that despite the ink serving as evidence of the passion I hold for hockey, nothing is as profound as the feelings I have for her. Darcy Thompson is the deepest tattoo I’ve ever gotten; she just can’t see it yet.

The ringtone I set for my mom spears through my daydream, and I hit Accept on the car steering wheel, automatically connecting the call to Bluetooth. It’s been a couple of weeks since I last spoke to her, which is the typical amount of time we go. However, with my parents’ divorce recently being finalized, I’ve been trying to check in a bit more often since she’s taken the split worse than Dad.

“Hey,” I say in my softest voice, eyes still pinned on the doors I expect Darcy to walk through at any second.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

I can tell she’s been upset. Mom and Dad freely admit that going their separate ways was the right thing, but I think the reality of what that looks like is finally hitting Mom, especially since Dad has already moved on with someone else.

My heart drops an inch in my chest. She’s a good mom and a kind person, and she deserves to live a happy life.

“I’m sorry I haven’t driven over more often to see you. Preseason has been crazy, and the regular season starts tomorrow, but?—”

“It’s fine, Archer. Honestly. You’re living your life, and I get it.” Mom blows a soft breath down the phone. “I should come and watch one of your afternoon games, and maybe we can go out for dinner afterward.”

I smile at that. I love spending time with Mom. “Yeah, why not? One of our first games is against the Scorpions.” I chuckle right as Darcy emerges, and my entire body trips out.

Fuck. How can someone make tight blue jeans, an oversize pink sweater, and a casual braid look so stunning?

“Would you be able to do that for me?”

“Hmm?” I reply to Mom, reentering the conversation.

She huffs out a soft laugh. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah,” I say right as a dude who has to be at least ten years older than Darcy steps up behind her. He must be another member of the chess club.

Rage builds when he sets a hand on her shoulder, and she spins around to face him.

“Want to talk about whatever’s going on?” Mom asks.

How is it that from two hours down the road and with no hint whatsoever, my mom just knows when something’s up?

I tear my eyes away from Darcy and stare out of the windshield. “It’s nothing.”

“Who is she?”

A single burst of laughter leaves me. “Should I even bother to ask how you guessed it had to do with a girl?”

Mom releases a long sigh. “Archer, sweetheart, I carried you for nine months and birthed you and your sister into this world. I know what my lovesick son sounds like, even if he’s never had a girlfriend before.” I hear her shift, probably her getting more comfortable. “Now, spill.”

On another laugh that eases the tightness in my chest, I shake my head. “Yeah, it’s a girl. Although I can’t talk about it right now, because I’m picking her up.”

“I see. Are you dating?” Her voice takes on a breezy tone, sounding like she’s excited on my behalf.