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“I want to talk about something besides football right now. How’d Gen’s vet appointment go?”
“Oh, I didn’t tell you. She’s fine. I mean, I knew she was, but I’m glad we went back. We tried switching her food and she started eating again right away, so the vet thinks she became sensitized to something in the old formula. Or maybe they changed their ingredients.”
“That happens?”
“Sometimes.” Abby shrugged. “I’ve also been working with Dylan on not feeding her extras or scraps, so I think that might be helping, as well.”
Scott shook his head. “Sorry, I should have put a stop to it when it started.”
“Don’t worry. I should have, too, but they both enjoyed it so much.”
“Still, good news. I’m glad she’s okay. Are you going to bring her to the game?”
Abby shook her head. “She’s a therapy dog, not a service dog. There are places where I can toe the line, like the coffee shop, because they’re dog-friendly, but I have to be careful. Trying to get her into a place like the stadium could hurt working service dog teams.”
Scott cocked his head. “Wait, they’re not the same?”
“Not at all. Service dogs provide tasks for their handlers, like guide work, diabetic or seizure alert, or retrieving dropped items. Therapy dogs are trained to help other people, not their own handler. I have no reason to take a therapy dog to the game. I mean, except maybe to comfort the Seahawks when they lose to you.” She grinned.
“Yeah, they’ll need all the therapy they can get by the time we’re done with them.”
But when Scott dropped Dylan off at her place on Saturday afternoon, all business, Abby accepted his perfunctory instructions and logged Kelly’s number into her cell phone in case something came up. Already getting his head into the game, she wished him luck with a quick kiss on the cheek.
She hadn’t known most teams kept their players in a hotel the night before a game, even if it’s at home. Something about team bonding, getting a good night’s sleep, and having breakfast together for morale, Scott had explained, then rolled his eyes. “Unless your roommate snores. Or is up all night on his phone. Or the hall noise is too loud. Or a million other things that could all be solved by letting me sleep at home in my own bed.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow after the game, right?”
“Yep. Kelly will make sure you get to the ready room. I’ll meet you there.”
“And then we’ll go celebrate.” She didn’t want to jinx it, especially given they’d already lost the first two games of the season, but Abby also understood this wasn’t the time for being a strict realist—or worse—a cynic.
“Then we’ll go celebrate.” Scott kissed her one more time, shorter than she would have liked, but understandable.
“Love you,” she reminded him as he turned to leave, but he had already begun his pre-game shift into player mode, and she didn’t think he’d heard her.
She thought she’d planned plenty of time for them to arrive at the stadium, park, and get to their seats, but she was little more than an amateur when it came to game day. The coin had already been tossed by the time Dylan, tired of waiting for her as she squinted up at the signs over each tunnel, grabbed her hand and wove her through the crowds and right to their seats.
A woman with warm, ochre skin and a halo of long, tightly curled, dark hair waited for them, looking more beautiful and stylish than anyone at a football game had any right to. She wore a jersey with the number 11 and WATKINS printed across the shoulder blades. Over the W, looping script in glittering silver declared, MRS.
Dylan slid into the row first, high-fiving a few people above and below them along the way, then flopping into the seat next to the woman.
Abby followed behind him, smile pasted on her face, fingers shaking. She lifted her chin, trying to ignore the curious glances being shot her way.
Rising, the woman chivvied Dylan over another spot, and, grinning, pulled Abby past him into the seat beside hers.
“You must be Abby. I’m Kelly.”
Enfolded into a hug before she could even think to resist, surprise warmed her cheeks at the welcome from a complete stranger.
“I’m so happy tofinallymeet you.”
“Uh, thanks?” Abby sank into her seat. Only then did she realize the stares had followed her, a few heads even craning from below, studying Kelly’s welcome.
Kelly, noticing, smirked. “Ignore them. They aren’t sure whether you’re the new nanny, the girlfriend, or another football... follower.” Her tone of voice made it clearfollowermeant something else.
Abby blanched.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re with me, and I’ll take care of you.” With that, Kelly shot a dark glance at those still sneaking looks at them. Abby’s breath stuttered in relief as most eyes turned guiltily toward the field.