Page 73 of Sidelined By Love

“Of course.”

He is handsome. That is true. And he has shoulders a mile wide that he doesn’t mind me leaning on. And he’s strong enough to carry me and all my messes. To the top of the Incline no less.

But he’s so much more than his physical attributes, so much more than most people will ever see.

He’s protective and patient. Thoughtful and kind. There are a hundred shelter dogs that can swear to that. And one sweet niece who can too. Grant is sure and steady and smart. He teases me and goads me and makes me laugh. Besides Caro, he’s the best friend I’ve ever had.

And I have never felt more cherished than when he’s holding me tight.

Flames lick at my cheeks at the mere memories—and a healthy dose of longing for another chance to be there.

“Well?”

I look up to meet her gaze. “What?”

“What else to do you know to be true?”

The words are right there, spilling out of my mouth and as freeing as promised. “I’m falling in love with Grant Reddington.”

“Took you long enough to get there.” Nan smacks her hands together. “Now, what are we going to do about it?”

Twenty-two

Grant

The wind blows smoke from the opposite edge of the field onto our sideline as Seattle runs out of their tunnel and onto the turf on Sunday afternoon. Thundering fans nearly drown out the music blaring through the stadium, and my ears are already ringing. I try to ignore it all, throwing a warm-up pass to Landry,one of the assistant QB coaches. My arm is stiff, and the ball hits about two feet from its target.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, as he tosses the ball to Ja’maar, who’s standing beside me.

Ja’maar doesn’t bother telling me it was a bad throw. His raised eyebrow is more than enough to communicate that if I throw passes like that to him all afternoon, he’ll be ticked.

He slams the ball against my number and releases it so fast that I nearly drop it.

Perfect.

The game hasn’t even started, and I’m acting like this the first time I’ve held a pigskin. Like I didn’t start sleeping with one in my bed when I was six.

I want to blame my butterfingers on jet lag or the hotel room last night or anything else. The trouble is that the flight was easy. We got an extra hour of sleep this morning thanks to the time zone change. And I had a luxurious hotel room all to myself. I couldn’t even hear Card snoring in the room next door.

Didn’t mean I actually slept.

But that wasn’t because we’re playing division rivals today. Or because the bed was unfamiliar. Or because I’m worried about Kenna.

My body feels like ground chuck roast because my brain has one soundtrack on repeat.

“This was all such a waste.”

I can’t stop hearing those words, seeing Zoe’s face, feeling that stab in the pit of my stomach.

Every minute that I’ve enjoyed. Every dream that she inspired. Every bitter memory that she’s wiped clean and replaced with joy.

And she thinks it was a waste.

Meanwhile, I’d give anything to relive it all. Because Zoe wasn’t a waste. What she invested in my niece wasn’t a waste.The laughter she brought into my home wasn’t a waste. Her wild hair and ridiculous costumes in the morning. Her gentle grin and sassy smile. The way she makes my life feel full.

Zoe is maybe the best thing to ever happen to me.

Just like Hank said, she’s the other strand that makes me stronger.

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