Page 74 of Falling Offsides

I totally forgot I got soaked in the rain while I was taking care of Courtney. The instant she opened the door, the only thing that mattered was her. Making her feel better. Seeing her smile again.

The last thing I want right now is for her to become sick because of me.

“Go shower, get warm and cozy,” I tell Court, lifting her off the counter as I take a step back and grab Samson from the kitchen island.

“Don’t go.” She tugs at the hem of my hoodie.

“Court…”

“Stay. We can watch a movie.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Princess.” I unzip my hoodie and shuck itoff one arm awkwardly before I place Samson on the floor and finish taking it off. “Coach will really murder me if I get you sick.”

“Okay.” Court nods, giving me a small smile before she turns and heads towards the bedroom hallway. With a quick glimpse over her shoulder, she says, “I’ll be right back.”

And I reply, “I’ll be right here.”

FIFTEEN

COURTNEY

The shower steamclings to my skin long after the water’s off and I’ve toweled myself dry. My heart is pin balling between my ribs with all kinds of apprehension as I sit on the closed toilet, towel wrapped around me, phone in hand. My gaze darts between Samson sprawled over my dirty clothes on the floor and the empty screen.

It takes all my willpower not to fall apart again. Mom and I don’t have the greatest relationship, but I hate it when we argue. Especially when it’s over Martin.

Swiping my phone open to our text exchange, I swallow down the briny blade cutting down the back of my throat. There’s nothing but the last text I sent her and the two green ticks that says she’s read it.

No text.

No call.

Because of course, once again, I’m the bad guy. For standing up to Martin. For feeling like she deserves better. For refusing to play nice with a man who throws words like knives and bottles like grenades.

A cold, wet nose nudges my ankle when I sit, staring at my phone for too long. As I lock my phone again, Samson’s awkwardly large paws hitch to my knees.

“You okay, buddy?” I ask for him to reply with a cheeky lick of my thigh before he pushes off and heads for the bathroom door. Tail wagging, tongue lolling out of his mouth in a goofy expression that lightens the weight in my chest.

“How does he do it, Sammy? How does your daddy know what I need all the time?”

Samson’s head cants to the side with his eyes going big and curious as he yaps back with the sweetest puppy drawl that has me pushing to my feet.

“Okay… I’m coming, I know you’re getting FOMO.”

The growing critter is pawing at the door when I open it and he tumbles backwards, the tail wagging the dog far too enthusiastically for him to balance himself.

The giggle that bursts from me peels the tension from my bones. The cool air from the bedroom shocks my lungs with a pleasant burn.

Auguste is right—I need this. The distraction. The company.

And just like that, I’m dreading the moment he leaves. When I’m alone in this huge ass apartment with nothing and no one to focus on. Just me and my family drama.

Making quick work of getting myself dressed, I put on my panties and an extra-large t-shirt that I’ve had for too long. It’s comfy and covers all my private parts as I open the bedroom door and pause at the spiced scent that envelops me.

Coconut and ginger. My mouth is already watering when I head to the living area to be met with the sight of Auguste at the stove.

Cooking.

Since my parents divorced, I haven’t seen a man cooking. Let alone a man cooking for me.

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