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I give him my best puppy-dog eyes and stick out my lower lip. After a moment, Elliot sighs. “Fine. But if I end up with a bruised coccyx, you’re waiting on me hand and foot until it heals.”

“Deal.” I’d happily play nurse for Elliot any day.

Over the next hour, I guide him around the lake at a snail’s pace, never letting go of his hand. He falls a few more times, but instead of throwing in the towel, he dusts himself off and tries again.

After tiringourselves out on the lake, Elliot and I head inside to warm up. I make us each a mug of hot chocolate, loaded with a mountain of mini marshmallows, while he grabs the soft fleece blanket from my bed.

We settle onto the couch in the living room, with the familiar sounds of a football game playing on the TV. It’s the Broncos versus the Saints. The Broncos won the coin toss and will get the ball first, much to my delight.

Elliot snuggles into my side, and I wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He fits perfectly against me, as if he was always meant to be there. I nuzzle my nose into his dark curls and inhale the sweet scent of his shampoo mixed with the wintery air still lingering on him.

“Warmer?” I ask, my lips brushing his temple.

Elliot hums contentedly. “Much. But that might be more from the human furnace I’m currently attached to than the hot chocolate or blanket.”

I grin into his hair. “You’re welcome.”

The Broncos-Saints gameis nearing the end of the second quarter, and I’m on the edge of my seat. Elliot has burrowed deeper into the blanket, his head resting against myarm. The Broncos are driving down the field, and with each play, my heart rate ticks up a notch.

“Come on, come on,” I mutter under my breath as the Broncos’ quarterback drops back and fakes a pass. He launches a rocket toward the end zone, and the receiver hauls it in with a diving catch. The stadium erupts on the screen, and I shoot up from the couch, nearly knocking Elliot to the floor.

“Yes! Touchdown!” I pump my fist in the air like an overexcited toddler who just won his first prize at a carnival.

Elliot yawns, stretching his tiny arms out to the side. “Does that mean they’re winning now? I haven’t been paying much attention. If it’s not Jackson, I don’t have it in me to care.”

Cute.“Yeah, they’ll be up by three going into halftime.” I’m practically bouncing as I watch the Broncos’ players celebrate in the end zone. “This is huge. They didn’t do so hot last season.”

Just then, one of the refs throws a yellow flag into the air. The crowd noise on the broadcast dips into a collective groan, and my stomach sinks.

“No. No way.” I stare at the screen in disbelief as the refs huddle together and speak into their microphones. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Elliot’s eyes flick from me to the TV and back again. “What’s going on?”

I run a hand through my hair, mussing it up even more than usual. “Looks like they’re calling offensive PI. If that’s true, it’ll wipe out the touchdown.”

The ref steps forward and makes an announcement. “Offensive pass interference. Number eighty-eight. Ten-yard penalty. Replay third down.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Are you freaking serious? That’s boo-hockey! These refs are blind.”

Elliot’s lips curl into an amused smile. “Wow, you’re really into this, huh?”

I plop back down on the couch with a huff, crossing my arms over my chest like a sulking child. “Of course I am. It’s football.”

“You do realize you’re a hockey player, right?” Elliot pokes me in the side, trying to tickle me through my thick sweater.

“I can like more than one sport,” I say defensively. But I soften when I see Elliot’s playful expression. “My dad and I used to watch every Broncos game together. It’s kind of our thing.”

Elliot nods slowly, taking that in. “That makes sense.” He pauses, then adds, “I like seeing this side of you.”

“What side?”

“The rabid sports fan side.” He shrugs out of the blanket and leans against me. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” I raise an eyebrow. “I’m yelling at the TV and pouting like a five-year-old who lost his favorite toy.”

Elliot tilts his head up to look at me, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. “Exactly.”

I smile down at him. Sharing such a cozy, domestic moment with Elliot in my childhood home feels unbelievably right. But as halftime begins and the marching band takes the field, the air in the room shifts, and Elliot tenses beside me.