Page 79 of Tainted Love

A rush of heat floods her cheeks. “No, I don’t remember that at all,” she replies playfully.

“You’re messing with an injured man, you know that?”

“Well, if you’re going to play the injury card, you leave me no choice.” She takes a deep breath and sits on the end of the bed, facing me. “I, Sascha Bell, am deeply, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you, Michael Tazman.”

A surge of warmth and relief washed over me. “I love you too, Sash. Since you first held my hand and made me feel like I was home.”

Tears well up in her eyes as she leans forward and presses her forehead against mine. “So now what?” I whisper.

She reaches out and tangles her fingers with mine. “Now, you take a few weeks off to heal.”

My heart sinks at the mere thought. Missing hockey is like missing a piece of my soul. “But I’ll be here to nurse you back to health,” she reassures me with a flirty smile. I like the sound of that.

“I have a campaign to pitch,” she continues, her eyes sparkling with determination. “And we have a future to plan. Together.” The warmth in her voice and the sparkle in her eyes make me forget about my injury momentarily as I look forward to creating a future with her by my side.

“That future we’re creating together involves plenty of sex, right?” My words are laced with a playful smirk.

Sascha rolls her eyes in response, the playful glint in her eyes matching my own. “Yes, Taz. Our future will be filled with lots and lots of sex.”

THE END

Epilogue - "Love Song"

Taz - 1994. A Few Months Later

The air in Delzy and Ivy’s new apartment is charged with anticipation as we wait for Ivy to arrive at this surprise welcome home party Delzy planned. It seems like a bad idea to purposely try to scare someone who has a history of being ambushed and kidnapped. I expressed my concerns to the group, but they all brushed it off, confident that everything would go smoothly. If something goes wrong, it will be on her fiancée’s shoulders.

As we wait, I strike up a conversation with Natalie, Ivy’s younger sister. Her carefree attitude, typical of a teenager, is evident in her shrug as I ask her about the unfamiliar faces in the room.

“I think some of them are Corey’s friends from his new hockey team,” she says nonchalantly, completely immune to the amount of fame and muscle occupying the apartment.

I nod, taking in the various faces and trying to mentally match them to names I’ve heard before.

“So, how have you been, kid?” I ask, using my old nickname for Natalie.

Her genuine smile lights up as she replies, “I’m great.”

“Surviving Merrimack High School?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah. It’s lame, but whatever—“ Her words are cut off by a loud whisper scream from Delzy near the front door.

“EVERYONE GET DOWN! SHE’S HERE!” he urgently whispers.

Instantly, we all drop to the ground like we used to during earthquake drills in elementary school: stop, drop, and roll. No, that was if you were on fire. I’m getting my disaster drills confused.

We can hear Ivy trying to open the door, the handle shifting several times but not opening. After what feels like an eternity of kneeling amongst moving boxes on this floor, the noise stops, and Delzy cautiously opens the door.

Ivy stands in place, looking shocked. I half expect her to scream, punch him in the throat, and run away—a reaction that would honestly delight me. But she doesn’t. She smiles wildly, throws her arms around him, and gushes about such a wonderful surprise.

As she enters the room, her warm greeting echoes off the walls and fills the air. Delzy and Ivy immediately retreat to their own little love cocoon in the corner as people continue to mingle and celebrate.

Soon, the familiar sound of glasses clinking signals the end of our conversations. We turn to see Sascha standing tall and confident in the center of the apartment. All eyes are on her now, waiting for her announcement.

It’s go time.

“Listen up, everyone,” Sascha begins, her gaze narrowing on me before continuing her speech. “Many years ago, I made a bet with Taz and ended up losing a game of HORSE. The payment? A Marathon bar. Unfortunately, I could never pay him back due to unforeseen circumstances.”

Landry’s low voice murmurs beside me, “A candy bar is like 50 cents.”