Page 64 of Penalty Shot

“Guys! Focus!”

“Fine. I guess there’s no harm telling you where she works since the theater for Imagination Ohio is public knowledge. She’s at the Plaza Theater. It’s in the middle of the Playhouse Square district.”

“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” I say with relief.

“Speak for yourself,” Gordon yaps before I cut off the call.

I’m surrounded by fields and farmhouses and the occasional highway travel center. If I slow down, I’ll be there by two in the afternoon. That’s enough time to come up with what I want to say, isn’t it?

Unfortunately, the answer to that question is glaringly clear a few hours later: nope.

I’ve never felt so clueless, parked across the street from the Plaza Theater.

My body is stiff as a board but standing up to stretch seems impossible right now. I’m paralyzed by lactic acid and indecision.

Maybe I should call Elise to ask if she wants me here at all. Or make up an excuse for rolling into town. Fuck, she’d see right through the lie.

If I’m sticking to the surprise approach, I should have brought a gift or something. I’m not even wearing anything decent,having grabbed the first comfortable clothes my sore body could slip into after that rushed shower.

So here I am, strolling into town empty-handed, wearing sweatpants like a lazy jackass.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of color emerge from a side alley. I’d recognize that orange t-shirt anywhere.

Elise is walking briskly, brown grocery bag against her chest and cell pressed to her ear. Despite the car’s distance, it’s obvious that she’s smiling.

Her face is so stunning, soexactlywhat I needed to see, it takes my breath away.

If I turn around and head home right now, the three-hour drive would have still been worth it. Seeing her happiness with my own eyes is all I want. All I’ll ever want.

After weeks of constantly thinking about this woman, that reckless realization is what switches the light bulb in my brain.

I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be with, talk to, laugh with, and make love to than Elise Chen.

Maybe I should take Gordon’s advice and keep it simple: tell her I like being with her as a friend and as…more.

She can define “more” any way she wants, as long as I’m the one she takes home. That is, if Elise ever decides to take anyone home to her poster-filled, flower-scented, drama-themed bedroom.

Or she could finally letmetake her home. I’m not picky.

No strings orallthe strings, I don’t even care.

I just want Elise Chen.

I need to tell her. I need to tell her today.Now.

I jump out of my car. The erratic movement grabs her attention. Our eyes snag and her shock turns to recognition. Her smile, as bright as the sun, warms me all over.

The hand holding her phone reaches up in the air like she’s about to wave at me.

But she doesn’t get a chance to wave.

Elise shrieks and crumples to the ground.

He bursts out of his sports car, a man on a mission. My initial shock is overtaken by confusion.

Is it possible to conjure someone if you miss them enough? Why is he here? Is he here for me? Is he wearing sexy gray sweatpants? Does he even see me?

The last question prompts me to wave. A cement edge catches my foot, big toe taking the brunt of the collision. I dare anyone to notice the uneven pavement when Randall Haughland appears across the street like a mirage.