“Okay! You can have some!”
“It’s late, kiddo, and if we eat too much sugar, we won’t be able to sleep. You can have one piece tonight, but we have to brush our teeth really well.”
After I inspect the candy to make sure no psycho tampered with them, we both enjoy some chocolate.
Abby sets down a tray of hot apple cider. There are two big mugs, and one small one. Hazel can’t have a huge drink before bed or she’ll have an accident.
“Thank you,” I say as I reach for my mug. “Smells delicious.”
The beaming smile she gives me fills my chest with something I can’t describe. I haven’t wanted to please a woman since Gemma. Being with Abby twists me up in knots and soothes my soul at the same time.
This thing with my roommate was supposed to be fun and easy, not complicated.
But when I see the affection shining in her eyes, I know we’re hell and gone from uncomplicated. Especially when she sits on the couch next to me and my daughter crawls into her lap.
Because Hazel loves Abby.
Abby gently unpins the wool cap on Hazel’s head. She compliments her on how well she trick-or-treated. On how polite she was by saying please and thank you to our neighbors. On how proud of her we are that she’s such a big girl.
Fuck, I think I love Abby too.
Dread, thick and suffocating, chokes me, and I scrub my face with my palm.
The last woman I loved died a horribly tragic death.
And it was all my fault.
How the hell can I get into another relationship when I’m not sure how I’ll protect Abby?
An alarm goes off on my phone. It says, Set two alarms for tomorrow morning.
I have a game I need to mentally prepare for. I can’t sit here all night losing my shit over this thing with Abby. I have to focus, or I can kiss the NFL, my daughter’s future, and my father’s retirement goodbye.
Leaning my head back, I stare up at the ceiling. I know how to survive. I’ve done it before. I just have to shove all of this emotional shit down until the only thing that rises to the surface is the game.
The team therapist is right. I need to focus on football.
32
ABIGAIL
Staring at the clock isn’t going to make Nick come to my room.
Frustrated, I sit up in bed.
Damn him for getting my hopes up. Why did he ask me not to change out of this stupid costume if he wasn’t planning to come see me?
After I set my glasses on the bedside table, I pull on the ties that hold up this dress and yank it over my head, but it gets caught on my boobs, so I spend another five minutes trying to wrestle it off.
By the time I’m done, I’m too tired to get off the rest. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’m dumb for spending money on this lingerie, but it’s so pretty, I couldn’t resist. It’s a matching bra and panty set in white lace with matching garters and thigh-high stockings. I’ve never worn garters before, but Paige thought this looked super sexy, so I bought it.
I guess she’s right about doing stuff for myself. She’s always saying I shouldn’t dress up for a man, but because it makes me feel good.
But that doesn’t minimize my irritation at getting stood up.
I shrug on a robe, tie it in the front, and shuffle out to the kitchen. I was so excited to see Nick tonight that I forgot my glass of water, and now I’m parched.
After I fill my glass and take a few sips, I freeze when I hear the click of a door down the hallway behind me.
