Page 87 of Shots Fired

Me: No.

Thigh Boy: That’s bullshit, and you know it.

Me: How are you even texting me back? My original message was for when you finished the game.

Thigh Boy: I’m hiding in the bathroom. Saw my phone light up with your name.

Me: Go and play hockey. Another shutout, please.

Thigh Boy: If I make it, will you stay in my bed tonight?

Me: I’ll think about it.

Thigh Boy: I’ll DoorDash Taco Bell for you.

Me: Deal.

Thigh Boy: One day, you’ll love me as much as cheesy bean burritos.

Me: You’re incorrigible.

Thigh Boy: Yep. Stay pretty, A, x.

Thirty minutes later—with the Blades already a goal ahead, thanks to a slapshot from my brother—I make my excuses and head for the bathroom.

When I reach the toilets, the door swings away from me just as I go to push through, and I narrowly miss falling straight on my face. I stumble into the room, laughing the entire time—half from embarrassment and the other because I must look ridiculous.

A hand wraps around my arm, saving me from catapulting across the room.

The woman—and I assume the person keeping me upright—laughs along with me. “This is the kind of thing that could only happen to me. At least I’m not alone.”

When I finally get ahold of myself, I spin around and come face-to-face with Archer’s mum.

She hitches her handbag further up her shoulder, warmth radiating from her. “You’re Felicity’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Darcy,” I confirm, feeling a little nervous, knowing I’m meeting my baby’s future grandma, and in a few hours, she’ll know all about it.

She clicks her fingers. “That’s right! Felicity mentioned your name. I’ve met her a couple of times at games, but never you. I’m Julia, Archer Moore’s mom.” The smile still hasn’t left her face. “I presume from your very strong British accent that you live in the UK.”

Julia steps all the way back into the restroom, releasing the door, and it shuts behind her.

“Oh, sorry!” She shakes her head, motioning to the toilet stalls. “I bet you’re busting to pee, and here I am, going on.” She rolls her eyes at herself.

“I’m good,” I reply. “Actually just taking a breather away from the arena noise.”

She nods her head, chuckling again. “I think we might be kindred spirits—both a little clumsy and loud noise not being our thing.”

Julia’s eyes fall down the length of my body. I’m wearing a dress, tights, and knee-high boots since I’m heading out with Mum straight after this.

“I don’t normally get this dressed up for games,” I clarify, feeling my cheeks heat a touch.

She shakes her head, but it isn’t judgmental. “I was actually thinking how beautiful you are.” Her voice is full of awe, and my face flushes redder.

She hesitates for a brief moment, eyes narrowing slightly. I can’t work out what she’s thinking, but the wheels are definitely turning in her brain.

“Thank you,” I reply. “I recently made the permanent move to New York. I was living in Oxford up until early this year.”

She nods softly, fiddling with the leather strap on her shoulder. “This might be a really random question, but have you met my son, Archer?”