Page 72 of Penalty Shot

“Why are you really here?”

“I told you why.”

“Say it again.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere else.” That’s the truth, as simply as I can put it.

“Why, Randall?”

“Elise, please, I’m begging you. Let me take care of you.”

“How exactly do you plan to take care of me?” Her question is playful, as Elise tends to be when we’re circling each other. Yet there’s an edge to it. A hesitation that’s uncharacteristic.

“Let’s get the swelling down first,” I manage to say.

She glances at my pants and raises her brow.

“Let’s get the swelling down on your wrist,” I insist, ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room with its raised trunk. “And we’re not doing anything to make your injury worse, so stop looking at me like that.”

I’m stern, ignoring the likelihood that the lust I see on her face is ten times worse if I looked in the mirror.

“Last I checked, the wrist isn’t imperative for hooking up,” she states wryly.

Her description of the circumstances does not sit well.

“I’m not here tohook up, Elise. I really did want to see you. There was no expectation beyond that,” I say, shaking my head.

“Right,” she quips. “No need to be coy with me, Haughland.”

“Wait, you think I drove here to get laid?”

I’m so insulted, the blood from my cock rushes to my face. This is a new direction.

“Are you saying you don’t want to get laid?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean, that’s not the main reason. Goddamn, Elise, your wrist is not getting better. Sit the fuck down and rest. Please.”

A better man would handle this situation differently. Maybe not be such a bossy ogre or a pathetic puppy dog. How I manage to be the worst of both scenarios is truly pathetic.

“No. Not until we’re clear about…” She pauses.

Suddenly, nothing is more important that filling the pause with all the truths I’ve been denying myself.

“About the fact that the only reason I wasn’t here sooner is because of the goddamn Stanley Cup playoffs? That I wanted to crawl through my cell phone every single night so I could hold your hand or smell your hair. Maybe we ought to be clear about how seeing you get hurt today felt like someone swung a hammer into my chest.”

I should stop.

Now would be a good time to ease up.

Except, apparently, a little thing calleddignitygot left in Columbus this morning.

When I speak again, my vocal cords sound like they’re ground in glass.

“Or did you need me to be clear about how much I think about you when I shouldn’t. How much Iwantyou when I shouldn’t. Maybe I should admit that every time I see you it’s a little hard to breathe, but I expect it, Elise. Iexpectthe atmosphere to change around you because you’re so goddamn incredible. Being near you makes my skin feel tight because I’m bursting. Fucking bursting with how much you do to me.”

Elise is leaning against the kitchen counter. I brace my hands on each side of her body and bend down.

We’re not touching, but our gazes lock.