Page 35 of Dump Tackle My Heart
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like one in a line. You’re not that. Never that to me, do you understand?” I ask, begging her to believe me.
“Alright, Hudson. I accept your apology, but no more declarations, okay? Let’s just be here in the present.”
“Okay, Sweetheart. Okay, for now,” I whisper and hold her close.
I look down at her, all sleepy and soft in my arms, and yeah—maybe I won’t fret too much. Maybe I’ll just be here in the moment with her, that is until I convince her our moment is going to last a lifetime.
That thought settles me and I kiss her temple softly.
The snow’s still falling.
The fire’s still crackling.
My girl is right here, where she belongs.
This is okay for now.
But in my bones, I know the truth.
I’ll make her see I mean it.
And when we go back to reality?
I’ll prove I’m her man.
I’m the only man for her.
I’ll show her.
One play at a time.
CHAPTER 11-DANIELA
Stay professional.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I crouch behind the tripod, adjusting the phone’s angle so it captures the whole kitchen.
Which currently looks like it lost a bet with a cooking show hosted by frat boys.
The turkey is cooking peacefully in the oven—the brine looks like it did its job, and the bird looked perfect this morning, thank God—but everything else?
A disaster.
Floureverywhere.
Like,snowstorm in Julylevels of flour.
There’s a weird scorch mark on the countertop, one of my socks is stuck to the cabinet door, and somehow—somehow—there’s stuffing mix on the ceiling.
And Tank?
Tank is shirtless again.
Wearing that stupidly adorable “Let’s Get Basted” apron.
And—God help me—he has “gobble gobble” printed on the waistband of his boxer briefs that are peeking out of the tops of his rugby shorts.
“Hudson, what are you doing?” I ask, struggling not to laugh as I hit record.
