Page 50 of No Shot (The Toronto Tundra #2)

Penn

Cami texted me asking if I could check on Bri.

I honestly didn ’ t even know she had my number, so the fact that she felt the need to text me…

safe to say the worry set in pretty quick.

When my phone pinged, practice had just wrapped up, and I took off in a frenzy.

I left all my gear in the locker room, ran out of the arena, and drove like hell back to our apartment complex.

If Bri needs me, you know damn well, I ’ m going to be there. Cami ’ s message said she spoke to her a little while ago, but Bri was supposed to be at work this morning. For her to miss a shift, something must be seriously wrong.

I dial her number as the elevator rises floor by floor. It rings the entire time until flipping to voicemail. She normally answers on the second ring. I make it to her door and raise my fist to knock.

“ Soup?” I knock twice firmly and strain to listen. I hear… nothing.

I knock again. “ Bridgette?”

This time, I press my ear against the door. It could be the pounding in my head, but I swear there ’ s a faint sniffle coming from the inside her apartment.

Shit.

I change course, barging into my apartment and ripping open my junk drawer.

Come on. It ’ s got to be in here somewhere.

I pull the drawer off the tracks and lay it on the counter, filtering through the crap I have in there.

My hand grazes over the smooth plastic material of a card, and my eyes flick to it.

Finally.

I run out the door, back to Bri ’ s, and tap the card against her lock. Jack gave me a key for emergencies. I forgot I still had it, but this oddly feels like an emergency. Her lock flashes green, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“ Bridgette?” I hear the panic in my own voice and try to push it down. I scour the first floor of her apartment. “ Bri, are you home?” I dial her number once more time, my heart racing when I hear the faint ringtone coming from up the stairs.

I take the steps two at a time, making it to the landing. She ’ s here, lying in bed, curled up in the fetal position, cocooned in all of her blankets. I ’ m hit with a wave of pain. A dull ache that has my whole body feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds.

When she lifts her head just an inch, revealing her face to me, I see the tears pouring down and lose all joy. There ’ s a ripping in my chest, like a wound with a gaping hole that nothing could ever cover up.

I ’ m devastated.

Helpless.

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I run to my girl.

I kneel on the side of the bed, peeling the covers away from her face. My hands smooth down the sweat-soaked stray hairs around her forehead. She ’ s burning up.

Bri turns her head away from me, pushing further into the pillow, trying to move out of my reach.

She doesn ’ t look at me.

She doesn ’ t have to.

I can see the deep blue bags under her eyes and the bright red spots on either side of her cheeks radiating heat. She ’ s not doing well.

I push myself up, moving systematically to find anything to help.

I grab some water from the kitchen, head toward the bathroom, and run ice-cold water under a towel before ringing it out.

When I return, she ’ s buried her face deep under the blankets again.

I climb into bed next to her, carefully lifting the blanket off her.

She flinches when I tap the cool towel on her face, but I continue my work, carefully offering relief anywhere I can.

I wipe away the tears that roll down every now and then, before resting the towel on her neck and chest.

“ I ’ m okay,” she says. It ’ s shaky and groggy and the farthest thing from the truth.

The Soup I know would call me a stalker for barging into her apartment like this. She ’ d rip me to shreds over the fact that I ’ m wearing socks and sandals. She would tell me that I smell like sweat from practice.

But not this girl. The girl in front of me right now… this is the one she ’ s been dead-set on hiding. The one she tries her hardest not to let come to the surface. The one who actually truly, deeply needs me, even if she doesn ’ t want to let me help.

Her phone vibrates, a sudden whooshing sound cutting through the silence. Bri ’ s eyes snap open, wide and glassy. When she looks at me, there ’ s so much fear behind them it stops me cold.

I can ’ t move.

I can ’ t look away.

She lifts her head up a little more, leans over the bed and vomits into the garbage bag she had ready and waiting.

I help push her up into a seated position, pulling her hair back with one hand while my other rubs circles on her back. It ’ s agony seeing her like this. I don ’ t even know what ’ s going on. What triggered this? What—

Shit. How much of an idiot can I be?

She stops heaving, slowly trying to get control of her breath. “ Shh, it ’ s okay, Bri. Deep breaths.” She struggles to calm her erratic breathing, still lurched over the bed. “ We ’ re not going to worry about the results right now, okay?” I continue my rubbing.

“ P-please.”

“ What is it?” I ask urgently. “ What do you need?”

“ Go.” My chest tightens, like a heavy weight was dropped on it.

“ No, I ’ m not leaving,” I reply firmly. I climb off the bed, taking the still-cool towel with me, removing the garbage from her grasp and setting it to the side. I slowly start cleaning her up, taking my time to be extra gentle. She turns her body away from me again, hiding her face from my view.

“ Stop hiding from me.”

“ I ’ m gross right now.”

“ You ’ re not gross.” I move my hand to bring her face back toward me.

“ I am.” She closes her eyes, like if she can ’ t see me, I can ’ t see her. “ I don ’ t want you seeing me like this.”

She tries to pull away again, and my frustration gets the better of me. I don ’ t want to see her like this, broken and tired, but I don ’ t give a damn what she looks like. How can she not realize? She has my whole fucking heart.

“ I don ’ t care about that, Bridgette, I love you.”

Her deep blue eyes open wide. “ No.” It ’ s a mix of shock and disbelief.

“ Yes, I do.”

She clamps her mouth shut, eyes closing again, shaking off my words and moving back from me. I plant my hands firmly on her waist, not letting her move out of this moment.

“ I ’ ve known for a while. I know that beautiful, overthinking brain of yours wasn ’ t ready to hear it quite yet, but I don ’ t care anymore. You need to know.”

Her head continues to shake, but she opens her mouth like she ’ s about to oppose.

“ Stop. We ’ re not going to talk about it today, okay? You need to focus on resting, not fighting me or trying to convince me you ’ re unlovable.” I know I have her pegged perfectly by the look she gives me. I can read her pretty well now, and I know how she operates.

“ But—”

I hold up my hand to stop her. “ I promise we can have a debate about this tomorrow, okay? So, plan your argument if you want, but just know, nothing you say or do is going to make me change my mind.”

Her disbelieving eyes study my face. I ’ m dead serious. She has no witty comeback, no clever retort, that ’ s how I know my girl is tired.

“ Come on, let ’ s get you in the shower and then time for a nap.”

***

“ Penn?” A soft voice calls me out of my peaceful sleep. Slowly, I start to connect the dots to where I am. I slept over at Bri ’ s, cuddled up next to her all night long. I slowly blink away the grogginess and turn toward the voice I heard.

I have to hold back a chuckle when I spot her. She ’ s sitting cross-legged beside me, looking a million times better than she did yesterday. Her hair is brushed, pushed back with a headband, and she ’ s in a silk PJ set that I didn ’ t put her in last night. Oh, my girl is back.

I make a point to stretch out my body, letting the last yawn out of my system before I face my determined girl.

“ Morning, my love.” That gets me a beautiful little glare, and I smile. I push myself up, sitting to face her, ready for whatever she ’ s about to throw at me.

She looks so serious. So determined. Her eyebrows are pulled together like they always do when she ’ s highly focused. I lean forward and plant a quick kiss on her nose. It catches her off guard, and like the feisty chipmunk she is, she narrows her eyes at me and crosses her arms.

“ Sorry, couldn ’ t resist.”

“ You can ’ t love me.”

“ I can, and I do. Next?”

She seems not at all pleased with my response. “ I ’ m bossy.”

“ Damn right you are, and guess what, Soup? It turns me on.”

“ I ’ m rigid too. I freak out and everything has to be done my way and—”

“ You ’ re not rigid. You like structure, and that ’ s okay. You thrive on predictability.”

“ Exactly!” Her voice picks up because she thinks she ’ s finally got me. “ And—”

I cut her off. “ I can ’ t promise predictability.

Neither can you. Our life might not be stable, our careers, and where we end up, they could be changing constantly.

But you and I? Our love will be our constant.

It ’ ll be something you can always predict, something you can always count on. That, I can promise you.”

She ’ s losing the competitive spark as the seconds pass. I see it retreating back, making space for a look I can ’ t truly pinpoint. “ I ’ m not easy to love, Penn. I think it ’ s lust you feel, I ’ m a mess. No one wants this.”

“ Oh, don ’ t get me wrong, there ’ s definitely enough lust to go around, that ’ s for sure.”

“ I ’ m serious.”

“ I am too. I know neither of us expected this, but I also know you are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Her lower lip starts to quiver as she stares at me. “ Are you sure?”

I don ’ t mean to laugh, I really don ’ t. It ’ s just such a Soup thing to say. My sweet, brave girl—so unsure right now. So disbelieving of how I could have fallen so hard for her. As if she ’ s not everything I never knew I needed in my life.

“ There ’ s not a doubt in my mind, and I promise to never stop loving you.”

She leans forward, like she ’ s surrendering her fight, tired of opposing me on this. I mimic her gesture, moving slowly until I sear her lips with a kiss.

It ’ s a deal.

An oath.

A promise I ’ ll keep forever.