Page 133 of Over the Line


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Such is the life of an artist.

Wrapping my heart up in a bow, presenting it to the world, and expecting everyone to stomp on it.

(And often crawling forward with boot marks on the aching organ after that happens).

Jocelyn glances at her watch. “Let’s make an appointment to sit down next week. We’ll figure out the best shots for prints and what size originals we want to carry. Sound good?”

I nod, barely resisting the urge to sayReally?again.

“Sounds good,” I manage instead, grabbing my things and standing up.

We exchange goodbyes, and then I’m walking out of the gallery, my phone buzzing even before I make it to my car. I tug it out of my purse, smile at the screen.

How many are they taking?

My smile grows at Lake’s text.

Complete confidence in me.

That settles deep, alongside the words on the patio at Ronnie’s, and how he holds my hand while we skate, and the cuddles he gives Steve, and the soup he left for me in the fridge before he headed out for the road game he’ll be playing in tonight.

I call him, and he picks up immediately.

And that settles deep too.

So does the conversation and the laughter I coax out of him, even though he’s confided in me that the Sierra’s locker room has been extremely tense of late.

Infighting.

Rumors flying about their coach being fired and the unsavory things the team’s owner has been up to.

And a series of losses.

So, hockey-wise, not the greatest.

The rest of it…us.Well, I have full access to his stash of Twix and become very familiar with all of the various uses of hisbranch, and it’s been—

Peaceful.

Easy.

Wonderful.

“You still with me, butterfly?” Lake asks softly.

“Yes,” I say immediately.

Because it’s been peaceful and easy and wonderful and Iwantto be with him.

So why is part of me inching toward the road?

I shove that feeling down, ignore it.

This is perfect.Lakeis perfect.

“…and I have tickets for you and Ella in your account. You’ll just need to scan them the day after tomorrow and…”

I dig my toes into the soles of my shoes hard enough that my bones protest.

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