Page 24 of The Game Plan

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Her eyes widen; it’s fleeting, but I catch it. My girl is hungry, and she’s trying to be coy about it. Doesn’t she remember the time I watched her scarf down an entire large pizza? It was aftershe asked me to be with her as she smoked pot for the first time, but it still counts.

“Yeah, I could eat. Thanks.”

She follows me into the kitchen as the timer goes off. Slipping on a pair of oven mitts, I reach inside the oven and pull out the sheet tray. I cooked something simple, but decent—marinated chicken with roasted sweet potatoes and broccoli. Lean, full of protein. Not the kind of meal I usually make unless I’m mid-season and cutting weight, but I figured Sav could use a good home-cooked meal. Hopefully, the baby enjoys it too.

Filling our plates, we move into the living room. I sit next to the armrest to set my plate, while Savannah takes the place next to me, using her stomach to balance hers.

I chuckle, and her eyes find mine as she quirks an eyebrow in silent question. “You’ve got a built-in table.”

“Yeah.” She laughs, and god, do I love that sound. “It comes in pretty handy.”

Taking a bite, she groans around her fork. “This is so good.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” I grunt, smirking behind my fork.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“No worries.” I nudge her shoulder. “I’m the whole package, Peach. Beauty, brains, brawn, and…and…chef?”

“Are you asking?”

“No? No. I mean, I was trying to think if I could find a word that started with ‘b’ like the others, but chef is the best option.”

She laughs, and once again, my heart leaps at the sound. Sitting here with Savannah, seeing her relaxed and in my space that’s now her space, it’s everything I used to wish for.

“So, did you mean what you said?”

Turning my head, I look at her, trying to figure out what she means. “About what?”

“The remote is mine.”

I chuckle, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. “Of course. Do your worst.”

She smiles. It’s small, but it’s real, and I love seeing it stretch across her face.

Opening a streaming app, she scrolls through the TV show options before selectingCriminal Minds.

I groan. “Seriously, you’re gonna watch serial killers while living here?”

She scoffs. “It’s comforting.”

“Comforting?”

“Don’t judge me. I like the predictability of the bad guy always getting caught. Plus…” She shrugs. “I always hoped I’d have a Garcia and Morgan friendship. You know, someone who’s got your back no matter what, but makes you feel safe and seen.”

That hits me square in the chest. Absentmindedly, I rub the spot right above my heart.

Savannah either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care about my reaction as she leans forward to place her empty plate on the table. I reach for it and stack hers on top of mine before setting them aside.

She murmurs her thanks as I glance at her. “You think we had that?”

“I think…once, we did.” Her voice softens. “Until we didn’t.”

The opening scene fills the screen, and our conversation ends. As we watch the beginning of the show, I cringe at the opening. She chuckles softly as she wiggles deeper into the couch. I can’t help but hope she’s starting to feel at home.

“You watched this show alone? At night? Inthatapartment?”

She nods. “Most nights.”