Page 127 of Time Out

“Not like I could really celebrate the way I would have liked to.” With a couple margaritas and Belle and I staying out until two in the morning to see who sang after me.

Three months ago, that’s what we would have done. Had I been bold enough or trusting enough to take what she’d offered to help me.

The bed shifted and Davis rolled toward me, slipping his arm beneath my shirt until his hand settled on my stomach. My muscles ached as I shifted on the bed to grin up at him.

He was propped on his other arm, smiling down at me. “We’ll get through all of this.”

I dropped my hand to cover his, linked them together over my swollen abdomen. “Together.”

“Damn straight, sweetheart.”

His lips brushed mine, soft and gentle. I doubted either of us had the energy to take it further. Tonight had been a lot.

And the best—and worse—was still left to come, but Davis was right.

We’d conquer it all.

Together.

Chapter 39

Davis

This was it. The dream of a lifetime and I reached it at the age of twenty-three. How in the hell did I get here? How would anything beat this moment?

Super Bowl in Houston. We were playing Philadelphia. Any moment, our team would be announced and while we were crammed into the tunnel, bouncing on the balls of my feet, I tapped Cole on his shoulder.

“Remember that first game where I almost puked?”

“Remember what I told you?”

“Just like the high from high school.”

“Damn straight, kid. You gonna puke today?”

“I might.”

He chuckled and turned back to the tunnel opening. Smoke was billowing across the field. Philadelphia was taking it. We’d been considered the home team, and we’d go out second, but once we hit that field, home field meant nothing.

Next to me stood Dawson. Jaw tight and visible. Eyes steely and visible through the face mask of his helmet.

He’d been suspended for a game due to his behavior, but the guy he’d hurt didn’t press charges. It’d all been, in effect, one large accident between being pulled and pushed and slipping. Dawson had to pay a six-figure fine, and the coach had him on his shit list for bringing such a distraction to the team at this point in the season, but at least he was still on the team and not in jail.

Although at the moment, he didn’t seem like he cared much about the game ahead at all. Probably not the best time, but I couldn’t help myself.

“You all, right? Things with Crystal… she gone yet?”

“Do not fucking talk to me about this before the biggest game of our lives, kid.”

There was a time I would have backed down. I’d been fighting too hard and too long for Maggie, now it was my nature.

“What happened? After that night?”

“Fine, fuck it. Yes, Crystal’s fucking gone, and the GM says I need to settle the fuck down.”

“What?”

Rick Marchand was a big family guy. Part of why the players on his team respected him and Coach and all the players. We were a team from the top down. Always.

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