Page 370 of Faking the Goal

"You got shot because of me."

"It just a grazed, baby. The doctor said I'm fine."

"That's not the point!" Her voice cracks, and some of the anger falls away, exposing the fear underneath it. "What if it hadn't grazed you? What if it hit your chest? Your neck? What if it hit an artery or something and you—" She cuts herself off sharply, her lips pressing together as her eyes start to shine. "Did you even think about that before you jumped in front of me?"

I stare at her for a second, and something warm squeezes around my heart despite everything that happened tonight. She was held at gunpoint less than an hour ago. She had the man who terrorized her for months threatening to kill her, and somehow she's sitting here worried sick about a few stitches in my arm.

God, I fucking love this woman.

I reach up and cup her cheek, brushing my thumb beneath one of those furious, worried eyes.

"I wasn't thinking," I tell her.

Her head jerks toward me. "That does not make me feel better."

"I saw him point that gun at you, and my body just moved. There wasn't enough room in my head to think about where the bullet might hit me because every fucking thought I had was about getting you out of its way."

Her lips tremble.

"If something happened to you again..." My smile fades as I stroke my thumb across her cheek. "Fuck, Taylor, seeing you in that hospital bed nearly destroyed me. I never want to feel that helpless again. So when I saw that gun pointed at you tonight, I didn't care what happened to me. All I cared about was making sure he didn't get another chance to hurt you."

I hold her gaze, my chest tightening at the thought of how close I came to losing her.

"Because I can survive a bullet, Trouble. What I don't know how to survive is losing you." My thumb brushes beneath her eye. "You've become so much a part of me that I can't even imagine waking up in a world where you're not in it. So yeah, if getting between you and that bullet was the only way to keep you here with me, I'd make the same choice every fucking time."

She blinks. A tear escapes, tracks down to where my thumb rests on her cheek. I wipe it away.

"But what if—" she starts.

"There's no more what if." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "It's all over now. Charlie has been arrested, and he can't come after you anymore. You're safe." I lift my bandaged arm slightly and give her a crooked grin. "And this? This is nothing."

"It is not nothing."

"It's barely enough to make me look badass."

"You already have enough stupid hockey injuries to make you look badass."

"Good point."

"And stop smiling! I'm mad at you."

"I know." I hook my good arm around her waist and tug her closer. "You look adorable when you're furious."

"I am being serious."

"So am I."

The nurse secures the last piece of bandage, gives us a look that tells me she's been pretending not to listen to this entire argument, then gathers her supplies and walks away.

The second she's gone, I take advantage.

"Ken—"

I wrap both arms around Taylor's waist and pull her onto my lap.

A soft gasp escapes her. "Your arm!"

"My arm is fine."