Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Archer’s body shakes with laughter.
“What about your ex?” I ask as we make our way down the stairs. I don’t even remember us coming up the stairs! But I guess we did because we emerge into the living room, The entire back wall is glass, looking out over the backyard. It’s an oasis out there.
“We grew up together,” he says, carrying me into the kitchen. “I asked her to a dance when I was fifteen, and we were together for two years. I thought she cared about me. Turns out, she just saw me as her ticket out of town. I didn’t dump water on her, but I did break up with her.”
“You must have really loved her.”
“What makes you think that?” he asks, frowning as he settles me at the island.
“You’ve been celibate ever since her,” I say quietly.
“That wasn’t because I’ve been hung up on her, Wren.” He tips my chin back, forcing me to meet his gaze. I see the truth reflecting in his eyes. It steadies me in ways I didn’t realize I needed to be steady. “I was hurt when I found out that she was just using me, just like you were with that fucker. But I didn’t miss her. I never wondered where she was or what she was doing. It just didn’t fucking matter. I was with her because it was easy. Because it was nice having someone to share shit with. It was a routine like every other part of my life at the time. Once she was out of the picture, I realized that wasn’t what I wanted out of life. I didn’t want to be with someone just because it was better than being alone. Just because it was easy or a habit or comfortable. So when I drafted, I avoided all that shit. Using someone to get off didn’t appeal to me when I knew how it felt to be used.” He shrugs a shoulder. “I focused on the game and finding joy in other parts of my life instead.”
“And look at you now,” I whisper.
“Yeah.” His grin is soft, full of sweetness and sin. “Look at me now. Married to a goddess.”
I huff, but there’s no heat in the sound. I like the way he speaks to me like I matter to him. Like this marriage matters to him. But knowing that he chose me after sixteen years? That feels…big. Monumental. And I’m not entirely sure where to fit it.
For the last year, I thought I knew him. But I’m quickly realizing that what I knew didn’t even scratch the surface of this man. There are hidden depths and currents to him that are breathtaking. This marriage is supposed to be temporary, something we undo as soon as possible. And yet…less than twenty-four hours in, it already feels too big and too important to undo.
I don’t know where that leaves me. I don’t know where it leaves us. Part of me desperately wants to find out. But what happens then? What happens when I fall even deeper, and it all comes unraveled?
He won’t be some guy that I never have to see ever again. He’ll be the man who has every piece of my heart. The one I still see every damn time I go to one of Micah’s games. He won’t be mine anymore, but I’ll still feel like his.
I’m not sure I’m brave enough to face that.
“Give me a chance,” he whispers as if reading my worries on my face. “Let me show you what we can be together, little bird.”
But I don’t need him to show me. I already know. I already feel it. Isn’t that the terrifying part? Less than twenty-four hours in, and I’m already sinking beneath his waves. He’s the storm, and I like the way he rages a little too much already.
“Archer, I…”
“Please,” he says, the word soft. Pleading.
I don’t tell him no. I can’t. Not when I’m realizing that we want the same damn thing. I’m just the one afraid to reach for it.
“Okay,” I whisper, reaching anyway.
His answering smile is worth the leap.
Chapter Seven
Archer
“Coach is a demon,” River groans at practice early the next morning, falling onto the bench beside me. He drags his helmet off, reaching for his water bottle. “Fucking hell. I’m exhausted.”
“Tapia!” Coach shouts at Diego as a puck whizzes by him, slamming into the back of the net. “Get your head out of your ass. Don’t piss me off, kid!”
“He isn’t a demon. He’s Satan.” Jordan mutters, collapsing beside him. “Jesus Christ. Who pissed him off this morning?”
“That’d be Logan,” Nash says, kicking a wayward puck toward him across the box. “He’s always pissing Lariat off.”
“Fuck all of you. It’s not my fault.”
For once, he’s right. I glance over at River to see him staring blankly at the ice, his expression grim. He knows he’s the reason Coach is pissed. He’s fucking our publicist, Alice.