“This place is perfect, Cooke,” Saffie says with a mouth full of bread and cheese.
Turning to Cooke, I ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Let’s bring the things up, and then I’ll eat.”
“You’re not doing a thing. You’re going to go lie down. Saffie and I’ll bring things up. After that, I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Bossy,” he mumbles.
“Get used to it. You need to rest.”
“Aye.”
I lead him to his—no,ourbedroom and help him undress down to his boxers and tee. “Sleep,” I say, kissing his lips as he lies down on the bed. “I’ll check on you in a few minutes.”
“Aye, love.” And then he’s out, snoring softly.
“Poor baby,” I say softly as I move hair out of his eyes. I touch his face gently and gaze down at him. “So glad you’re here.”
“You know,” Saffie says form the door, “he wants to stay here.”
I smile. I know he wants to be here. “I know. Until—”
“No. He wants to stay here. With you. Forever.”
I step out of the room and shut the door behind me. Saffie’s got my interest piqued. “He does?”
“He does. I’ve never seen him like this before. Neither has Mum. You should know he’s had loads of girlfriends.”
“He has?” Who am I kidding? Look at him. Of course he has.
“He never talked about any of those birds. He tolerated them. But he won’t shut up about you. How you met. That it was fate or some shite.” She chuckles. “I love him, but he’s full of it.”
My face must show what I’m thinking, because Saffie says, “Wait. I didn’t mean it like that. He couldn’t have met a better girl, Quinn. I adore you. And when Mum comes to visit next month, she’ll feel the same way.”
His mom’s coming?
“All I mean is he’s never been like this before, so I know he means what he says. He doesn’t want to leave you again.”
“I don’t want that either. But what about the team?”
“Did you see the injury? The video?”
“No.” And I don’t want to. “I can’t.”
“He’s done. He can’t come back from that. He’ll be in that brace for seven or eight months. Then the real rehab will start.”
“Eight months? I knew it was months, just not quite so many.”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“I get that,” I say as I look out the window to check the view.
“No worries. He was always right savvy with his money. You won’t be broke.”
“Huh?” My head jerks up. “You think I care if he’s got money?” Hell, I still have the Visa gift card he gave me months ago. “Cooke and I, well, it’s never about money.”
“Bloody hell. I keep putting my foot in it. All I meant was he won’t have to worry about money if he can’t play anymore. He can do something else since he was so smart with it.”
