Page 51 of Betrothal or Breakaway

“True! More bread for us,” I say with a shrug.

Nella turns her head and begins rooting around for a nipple. She whimpers as she searches. My chest tightens, I wish I could nurse her. I miss those sweet moments.

Ford’s mom chuckles. “Oh, dear, someone’s hungry. Do you want me to bring a bottle up here so you can feed her? Or I can feed her, whatever you’d like. I do love the snuggles.”

I smile and allow Sally to take Nella since my incision is feeling sore.

Sally gently pulls her out of my arms and moves off the bed, smiling once more before she heads downstairs with Nella in hand.

Farrah lingers behind. “Any snack requests while we watch the game tonight?” she asks.

I bite my bottom lip. “Actually, I always eat popcorn while watching his games. I swear it’s good luck.”

She grins. “Popcorn it is.”

It’s almost midnight when Ford slips into our room. I can hear the opening of a drawer and then his footsteps padding to the bathroom. I’m sure he showered in the changing room after the game, but he’s likely still in his game day suit.

The bathroom door opens and then more footsteps, until he pulls back the covers. The bed dips with the weight of his body, and a sigh escapes him. Not a content one, a frustrated one.

“Sorry about the loss,” I whisper, not wanting to startle him.

He seems unsurprised I’m awake. “Something’s off, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. This is our third loss in a row.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. Losses are expected, every team has them. But three in a row is bad for morale. Especially for a team captain.

The bed dips again, and he’s rolled over on his side to face me. “I feel like I’m failing the guys, like I should know how to fix the issue. Our chemistry is all wrong, but I don’t know what to do.”

Reaching out, I lay a hand on his arm. “You’re the captain for a reason. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. Maybe the coach has some ideas?”

Ford brings a hand up and rests it on top of mine. His hand is large and warm and comforting. I want to roll closer to him, let him pull me into his big arms—the way he did in the hospital.

“Yeah, I’m hoping to sit down with Coach Young soon and troubleshoot this. We should have time to discuss it during our flight to California.”

His thumb gently moves up and down across the back of my hand, sending a tingle down my spine. “Anyway, how are you? Sorry I was gone all day—and that I have to leave again tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about me. Your mom and sister are spoiling me to death…and Nella too.” I smile into the darkness. “I’ve missed Nella the last few days, but I’m still sore, so it’s been a godsend having them here.”

He hums. “My mom is a little obsessed with her. Understandably so. How’s your wrist?”

“I’m just sore where my incision is, but as long as I’m careful it’s not too bad.”

“Glad you’re feeling better. I hated seeing you so tired and not like yourself. I need my spunky best friend.” His thumb continues its path along the back of my hand, and I shiver at the warmth of the caress.

“You cold?” he asks.

I’m not. I’m plenty warm, especially with his nearness. But it’s okay to lie sometimes, right? “A little.”

Ford, ever the caretaker, scoots all the way over until his body meets mine. He scoots close enough that my body is pressed against his, then he ever so gently wraps an arm around my waist. It’s not a provocative touch, but caring and tender. Everything I’d expect from Ford Remington.

And it’s just what I need to fall fast asleep and never want to get out of this bed.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

FORD

On the flight from Virginia to Anaheim, California, I try to sit near Coach Young. The Eagles charter a small plane, just large enough to hold our players and the people who work closely with us. Coaches, general manager, Jeff the equipment manager, etc.

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