Page 4 of Make Your Play

“The floral arrangements you made for the party are pretty awesome,” Carson says as he points to the mantle above the fireplace. “Nova said your business is doing really well.”

This time a real smile pulls on my lips and I nod. “It is. It was more of a pipe dream when I first started it and it has grown to proportions I never thought were possible.”

We settle into a comfortable, neutral conversation, talking about flowers and hockey. It’s extremely platonic and I welcome the comfort of talking to him. Carson has always been an easy person like that and his looks match his personality. I’ve never really looked at Carson in that way, but I’m not blind to how attractive he is.

Carson doesn’t notice me staring and I quickly pull my gaze from his face, glancing around the room. Nova is sitting on the floor with Posey, while Lincoln is standing with Caleb and Rowan. As my eyes continue through the living room, the air gets lodged in my throat as I meet a pair of stark, bright blue eyes watching me.

Nash stands by the doorway, leaning against the wall with his shoulder, as he lifts a glass of whiskey to his lips. Another one of the players, Hayes, is talking to him, but Nash doesn’t appear interested. Hell, it doesn’t even look like he’s paying any attention to Hayes.

No.

He’s just blatantly staring at me.

I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow, momentarily traveling from Carson and back to me. The space between my eyebrows creases the slightest as I study him. The muscle in his jaw tightens before he says something to Hayes. Carson taps on my shoulder, earning my attention again as he excuses himself from the couch and disappears into the kitchen.

I’m left sitting by myself in a room full of people moving about. When I look back toward the far wall, Nash isn’t there anymore. An exasperated, defeated sigh deflates my lungs. I need to get myself out of this damn funk. A possible pregnancycomplication is scary, but it isn’t a death sentence, so I can’t let the news from my doctor drag me down like this.

I was first diagnosed with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome—aka PoTS—when I was a teenager. As I got into my twenties, it was virtually nonexistent, but my symptoms came back after I got pregnant.

Everything was fine until I had an appointment earlier this week that had them concerned. I’ve been experiencing some increased swelling in my feet and ankles. The doctors have said it isn’t a concern, yet, but they’re talking about putting me on modified bed rest, all things considered.

The last thing they want is to have to deliver this baby early. I’m only thirty-three weeks, so ideally, we need more time before the baby comes. I’m already terrified of having a C-section, but it isn’t just about it being a major surgery…

The cost terrifies me.

Moving my feet from the couch, I set them down on the floor and lean forward to stand up when I see a pair of bright white sneakers step in front of me. Trailing my gaze along the dark washed jeans and gray sweater, I stop when I reach Nash’s face.

He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. My heart pounds erratically in my chest a dozen times before he moves to sit next to me. Nash remains silent and I slowly turn my body to the side to face him. The air leaves my lungs in a rush as I find his gaze fixed on me.

“Can I help you with something?” I question him as I lift an eyebrow.

Nash’s throat bobs as he swallows. He seems flustered or annoyed and lifts his hand to rake it through his tousled dark blond hair. “Is there something going on with you and Ford?”

“Carson?” I half scrunch my face. “No, absolutely not, all things considered.” I let out a soft laugh as I rub my hand over my stomach. My face relaxes as the realization dawns on me.The look on Nash’s face when he saw the two of us together… he was trying to assess whether there was anything going on between us. “Would it matter if there was?”

He works the muscle in his jaw, letting out a snort as he shakes his head. “Not at all. I was just curious.”

I want to slap the stupidity out of him, but I keep my hand in my lap, wrapped around my mug. “I’m pregnant and by myself, Nash. The last thing I’m looking to do is get involved with someone else.”

Something inundates Nash’s gaze, but it’s unreadable as he lifts an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

A harsh laugh escapes me and I shake my head. “No one wants to be with someone who’s pregnant with another guy’s kid. And honestly, dating is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“I don’t look at you any differently,” Nash tells me, his voice soft, warm, and gentle like an embrace.

My mouth and throat feel like I swallowed an entire spoonful of peanut butter. I’m at a loss for words, completely caught off guard. I want to question him, I want to ask him what he means, but instead I abruptly change the direction of the conversation.

“Well, other people do.” I force out a laugh as embarrassment and disappointment prick my skin. This wasn’t how my life was supposed to go.

Nash’s forehead creases between his eyebrows. “Who gives a shit what other people think?” He glances around the room, doing a quick surveillance of everyone. You’re coming for Christmas dinner, right?”

The reminder instantly warms my heart. It’s become a tradition over the years that the Simmonses host a big Christmas dinner, where all the strays come to eat. My family moved away a few years ago and I don’t always get the time to go visit them. Now, with the doctor telling me I need to take it easy, I’m really in no position to travel.

“Well, given the fact that I’m not allowed to go anywhere, I need someone to feed me.”

“Why can’t you travel?”

Lincoln suddenly appears in front of us. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” He looks at Nash. “Can you help me get Liam’s car out? They’re stuck in the snow out front.”

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