Page 33 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door (Love in Maple Falls #5)

CLéMENT

I am kissing Marcy Fontaine.

The girl I thought I could never win. The girl who, somewhere between the lasagna and the dawn, won me instead.

I am completely lost in her as the sun rises red in front of us.

Her lips are soft but certain, like she made the decision a moment before I did and has just been waiting for me to catch up. Her hands are light against my chest, and my heart is thudding so hard I expect her to pull away and ask if I’m okay.

But she doesn’t. She just kisses me back like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The morning air wraps around us, crisp and clean. I taste her breath, warm against mine, feel the way she leans into me. She’s letting me in.

Everything else—the house that still isn’t livable and might be pulled out from under me, the burden to perform on the ice, the call from France, the headache that’s been flaring too often—disappears.

In this moment, it’s just her.

Her and the first light of day catching on her cheekbone, the way her hair smells like cedar and sugar and something uniquely hers.

She is strong and kind, with a heart of velvet wrapped in steel. She told me things she’s never said aloud, and I listened, and I told her things I didn’t even know I remembered.

This kiss… it feels like what comes after the truth. Like we’ve both bared so much of ourselves, and now we’re meeting each other with no pretense.

But how can I fall in love when my foundation is cracking all around me?

A soft sound escapes her lips, and I pull her closer instinctively, my palm splayed against the small of her back.

I don’t want to rush this. I want to memorize it.

Etch it into my mind so that if the world falls apart tomorrow, I’ll still have this.

Her lips on mine, her warmth in my arms, the quiet miracle of being wanted by her.

We finally part, our foreheads brushing. She smiles, eyes still closed. And I realize something else:

I don’t want this to be the peak of us.

I want more. So much more.

Marcy leans against me, her back warm against my chest. The porch boards creak softly under our weight, and somewhere across the ranch, a rooster breaks the silence with a shrill crow.

Marcy sighs, the sound low and content. “That means Edgar’s awake,” she murmurs.

Right on cue, the soft thump of hooves and the unmistakable bleat of Maple Falls’ most dramatic goat echoes from behind the barn. I smile, resting my chin lightly against her temple.

“I should go before the rest of the ranch wakes up,” I whisper against my own wishes.

She turns slightly toward me, eyes sleepy and shining. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “I don’t want to, either.”

Just as I start to lean in for one last kiss, a flicker behind my eyes pulses—sharp and unwelcome. It’s small at first, like someone flicked on a light too fast. Then another pulse, heavier. Behind my right temple.

No. Not now.

I pull my head back, trying to clear it, trying to breathe through the faint dizziness rising in my chest. My stomach flips and not in the good, kissed-a-beautiful-woman way. It’s nausea, building low and slow. Sounds start to blend together.

Marcy shifts to face me, and I force a smile, tightening my hold on her for just a second longer.

“You should go inside,” I say gently, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Before Edgar finds us out.”

She laughs. “You sure you’re okay to drive? You look a bit?—”

“Of course,” I interrupt before I catch myself lying. “Even if I’m still a bit weak in the knees.”

She nods, that same tenderness still in her eyes.

But I can’t hold her gaze. The pressure is mounting, fast now. A steel vise behind my right eye. My body is shifting into defense mode. My vision has already started to blur at the edges.

I walk away as casually as I can, heart pounding. I make it to the bike, but I know I can’t ride like this. Not even to Weston’s, not safely.

I swing my leg over the seat, just to make it look like I’m going, then wheel it carefully down the drive, and head for the main road with only a quick wave. I need to find cover.

As I turn onto the main road, I see a thicket not far ahead. I push the bike behind it, my pulse throbbing in my ears now.

I sink to the ground, cradling my head in my hands as the migraine hits in full.

Lights explode behind my eyelids. My fingers dig into my scalp, elbows braced against my knees. I try not to make a sound and just stay hidden.

And so I sit, curled behind a bush like a wounded animal, breathing through the pain and telling myself this is just temporary.

It has to be.

This can’t be the end.