Page 22 of Slapshot Bride

She has been quieter than she was this morning. I can tell the day has taken a toll on her.

I watch her silently for a moment, and then she lifts her eyes to meet mine.

“They’ve been calling. Also sent texts and they think we should discuss it as a family,” she finally admits.

I don’t need to ask. I know who she’s talking about.

She slides her phone across the cushion to me.

“Read this.”

I read it. It’s from her father. It reads like care but I can tell the man has no idea of the hell his daughter has been living with this man.

Even the phrasing of the text gives more away. He thinks she has just had an episode that needs managing. They’re all buying Preston’s lies without the benefit of the doubt.

My throat tightens. My eyes return to hers, and all I see there is the pain she’s trying to hide. The reality of being misjudged, while her oppressor is tagged the victim.

I hand the phone back.

“What do you think?” she asks calmly in a quiet voice.

It isn't really a question. It's closer to a request for evidence that someone else on this earth sees what she's seeing. I keep my voice even.

“What I think doesn’t matter, Riley. But if you really want to know, I’ll say you give it a few days to die down, and when you’re sure of a direction, you can have a calm call with him.”

She exhales. “If only it was that easy. He’s convinced Preston is right.”

“But you know he’s not. I know he’s not.” Her eyes flash to mine as though it has just mentally dawned on her that I believe her. “It may be small, but it’s enough for you to make the right decision and stick to it.”

She's quiet for a long time, and when she glances at the phone again, I think she’s reconsidering her decision of running away, but when she speaks, her voice is solid, and I know her decision is final.

“I won’t go back and I won't respond. At least, not now.”

She swallows. “I want him to sit with not knowing my location. I want him to think, for once, about what it feels like to be on the side of a conversation he doesn't get to control.”

“Okay, we can start from there.”

“It’s petty.” She finally smiles, and just like that, I’m smiling too.

Lord.

It’s like this woman’s emotions are somehow wired directly into mine.

When she’s scared, every instinct in me screams to protect her. To wrap my arms around her and put myself between her and whatever’s coming, just like I did in the boutique parking lot.

Fucking Preston Sinclair. If I ever see him, I’m putting my fist through his face.

But when she smiles?

Fuck.

She lights up from the inside, so bright and beautiful that all I can think about is keeping that smile right where it is. Making sure no one ever gets to take it from her again.

And then there are the other thoughts.

The ones that have absolutely nothing to do with protecting her and everything to do with how fucking gorgeous she is.

Those I shove aside. Again.