Page 17

Chloe

I quickly scan the box, taking note of the chicken in some kind of gravy, salad with a creamy dressing, green beans, and potatoes.

Likely everything in the box has dairy in it in some form.

I would try the beans, but I’m sure they have butter in them.

I simply close the box and put it on my tray table with plans to offer it to Gunner when he finishes his.

I try to check on him out of the corner of my eye.

He doesn’t take kindly to being coddled; I know that about him.

He never has.

Thankfully, it’s not his dominant arm that has the injury, so he’s able to eat just fine.

I put my headphones in and start drafting the press release for Gunner’s injuries as well as for the team’s loss tonight.

I do a quick check on our socials, seeing what people are saying after the game.

It’s always painful, but I do it so the coaching staff and players don’t have to.

I'm hard at work when Gunner hands me something. I turn to him and take the box he’s handing me with a question in my eye. “Food you can eat.” I open it and see grilled chicken, rice, and corn. “None of it has wheat or dairy.”

“Thank you.” I feel his kindness deep in my soul. Even though he’s injured, he’s taking care of me. Not taking care of me , I correct my traitorous heart. I don’t know how he planned it out ahead of time, because it’s not like they can just reorder a meal in the air. I realize suddenly that I’m starving, and it takes me only a few minutes to eat everything in the box. Gunner takes my box and hands it to Rachel, our stewardess. “Thanks, Rachel.” I resist the urge to ask Gunner how he’s feeling and get back to work. The guys have started to recover somewhat from the loss of the game. I can hear a few of them playing a game now, probably cards at the card table about halfway back. I’ve played with them a few times over the years. Some of them are vicious, though, especially when they play for money. Dylan’s particularly ruthless; I never play with him anymore.

I work on my phone, adding some photos and video highlights of tonight’s game. I also respond to two requests for interviews with Gunner, regarding his injury. And then because I haven’t done it in at least a day or two, I check Jenny Prenderson’s socials. The woman is a complete psycho; no shock there. She’s just continued on with her nonsense, not caring that Gunner is supposedly engaged. I read the comments below her latest post as several people tell her that Gunner’s engaged now. She doesn’t respond to them. I wonder what it’s going to take to get her to back off. Hopefully Gunner’s engagement pictures will help. Of course, other than him actually marrying and having his own baby, I’m not sure a woman like this will stop. A weird feeling settles over me thinking about Gunner marrying and having a baby, mostly because I’m the woman closest to fulfilling that role right now. It’s all just pretend, I remind myself before my mind gets carried away. There’s a weight against my arm after a little bit. Gunner’s leaning back in his seat, asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief. Normally, the guys don’t sleep on a flight like this. It takes at least five or six hours for them to come down from a game, so a six hour flight isn’t enough time for them to relax and actually sleep. They’ll wait until they’re home in their own beds for that luxury. But Gunner’s pain pills are probably knocking him out. I continue working on my laptop, knowing I won’t sleep either until I get home. Gunner eventually shifts, so that his head is nearly on my shoulder. It can’t possibly be comfortable, but he’s too heavy for me to try to move. I work as best I can with my left arm unable to move. Aiden stops beside us in the aisle. “Want me to move him?”

I glance at Gunner, who’s out cold. “No, he’s fine. I mean unless you think we should move him, so he can be more comfortable.”

Aiden smirks. “Pretty sure that’s the most comfortable he’s ever been. Holler if you need me to pull him off you.”

He disappears, but his words stay with me. I don’t think Gunner’s friends know how he feels about me. Oh, Gunner is nice and respectful to me; I’ve never once had a problem with him in that regard. He’s really good at making sure his teammates are as well. But personally, the guy’s never looked my way. And believe me, I would know. After he turned me down, he’s done his very best to interact with me as little as possible over the last four years. I get it; I really do. I used to hope he would; now I’m resigned to the fact that I think I will always crush on this man. He’s too amazing a guy not too, but that’s all it will ever be.

The time passes somewhat quickly, and we prepare to land. I’m thankful to be home at a pretty good time, all things considered. It’s just past two in the morning, which is pretty early for an away game. Gunner wakes up, and I can tell he’s groggy and in pain. He doesn’t say much and lets everybody on board pass before he stands up. I follow him off the plane and search for his bag and mine. I snag mine and go for his, but he gets to it first. Before I can tell him not to lift it, Rico swings it out of his hand. “I got it.”

Gunner frowns but doesn’t say anything. We walk over to the parking lot where all our cars are parked. I wonder if Gunner’s figured out yet that he isn’t going to be able to drive home, not with heavy painkillers in his system. I’m hoping he’ll just let me take him home in my car without putting up a fight. He starts walking toward his truck. “Coftman, you’re with me,” I tell him, hitting the issue head on. He turns to me, but before he can say anything, I tell him why. “You can’t drive with those painkillers in your system.”

“They’ve worn off by now.” His words are gruff, but I don’t take it personally.

“Well, you still can’t drive until you know what damage you’re dealing with; so, come on, Big C. You’re with me.” He stops. I think he’s going to argue, but he surprises me.

“Here.” He tosses me something with his good arm, and I catch it by reflex. “Can you drive my truck? I’m not going to be able to fit in your car with all this.” He motions to his arm, and I realize how tough it would be for him to get in and out of my car.

“You don’t mind me driving your truck?” I ask, just making sure.

“No.”

Rico opens the door and throws Gunner’s bag in the back. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Get some rest,” he says to Gunner. Gunner climbs into the passenger side and closes the door. Rico walks over to me. “Somebody will grab your car in the morning and drive it to Gunner’s.”

“Don't worry about it.”

“It’ll get done,” he says. “Thanks for driving him.”

“Yeah.” He starts to walk away. “Oh, but don’t drive it to Gunner’s. I’ll be at home.” It hits me that I’ll have to drive Gunner’s truck home and then won’t have a way to get it back to his house. “You know what? Never mind. Just drive it to Gunner’s. Thanks.”

“Yep.” Rico walks away.

I stare after him a moment. Guess I’m spending the night at Big C’s house. I wonder when the best time to tell him that is. Now or maybe after he’s in his bed asleep. In bed, asleep. That’s my vote. Maybe my car will get dropped off first thing in the morning, and I can slip out. He won’t even know I was there. Maybe. I open my door and throw my bag in the back and climb into his truck.

“The button’s on the side to move it up,” he says without looking at me.

“Thanks.” It takes me a second to find it, and then I move the chair forward so I can actually reach the pedals. His truck is so massive, it takes me a minute to work up the guts to drive it. I pull out of the parking space slowly and make my way through the parking lot at a snail’s pace. Gunner, to his credit, says nothing. Once we’re on the main road, my confidence grows. Thankfully, the drive to Gunner’s house isn’t too far. When we get there, I lean back, so the security guard can see Gunner. He waves us through, closing the gate behind us. The security doesn’t bother me. A lot of the guys live in gated communities; it helps to keep the crazies out. Well, most of them anyway.

I pull carefully into Gunner’s driveway and park, breathing a sigh of relief that we made it safely. He opens his door and picks up his bag and throws it over his good shoulder before I can say anything. After grabbing my bags, I hurry after him. He unlocks the front door and walks through ahead of me. Once I’m inside, he closes it and locks it behind me. He turns on a few lights as he goes. It’s not the first time I’ve been to his house. I’ve been here for a party or two over the years, but it hasn’t been very often. Even though Gunner’s the captain, he’s pretty private, relying more on guys like Rico and Sebastian to host. I’ve never been past the living room or kitchen, but Gunner moves quickly past those rooms and down a hallway. I don’t know whether to follow him or not. In the end, I opt to stay where I am. I toe off my shoes and drop my bags near the door. I’m hoping that he’ll just go to bed, and I can crash on the couch and then leave first thing in the morning when my car gets here. Not that it’s not morning now. But there’s at least a few more hours before sunrise. I make sure I have my phone and then grab my laptop and head over to his couch. I don’t hear anything from him, so hopefully he went right to bed. I open my laptop but don’t get very far.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startles me, but I recover quickly. “Working.”

“It’s nearly three in the morning,” he says with a scowl. “You can drive my truck to your house, or you can crash here.”

“Oh, thanks. Rico said they’d bring my car here in the morning. I’m not sure what time that will be, so I was just going to work until it gets here.”

He scowls at me. “You’re not working all night; you need sleep. Come on, I’ll show you the guest room.”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll just sit here and—”

“Come on, Chloe. I want to go to bed, and I can’t until you’re settled.”

“Just go to bed, Coftman. I’m fine.”

He strides down the hallway. “Let’s go, Liessman!”

I scowl at his back as I follow him. “Because you're injured and in pain, I’ll let you get away with being bossy. But just for tonight.”

He turns around, and I stop suddenly to avoid colliding with him. “You might find out that you like it when I boss you around in certain situations.”

I blink and stare up at him in shock. “Wow, those painkillers are really doing a number on you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m clearheaded, Liessman.”