Page 50 of Courtside

David.

Don’t you dare.

* * *

Sage answered the door as soon as he knocked.

Her nose was even redder than it had been earlier, matching her cheeks. Blonde hair stuck out from where it was piled on top of her head, and she was bundled up in a massive hoodie that almost reached her knees. Her mouth was pulled down into a frown as she glared at him.

“What are you doing here,” she asked, obviously trying hard — and failing — to look like someone who was completely fine.

David held up the bag. “I brought soup.” Then he held Daisy up with his other hand. “And cuddles.”

Sage’s face softened as she looked at the small dog. “Come here,” she said, reaching both hands out toward him.

For a moment, David thought she meant him.Did she want a hug?

He loved hugs. Big hug guy. He’d love to give her a —

Daisy. Right. Of course she was talking about Daisy.

He held out his wriggling dog. Sage gathered Daisy against her chest, quietly cooing as the golden pup lathered her face in kisses.

“How are you feeling?”

Sage shrugged. “It could be worse.”

Rolling his eyes, David looked past her into her apartment. “Can I come in?”

Again she shrugged, more occupied with snuggling his dog than listening to him. He couldn’t blame her. Daisy was an exceptional cuddler. But she stepped aside in a silent invitation before turning and shuffling back inside.

Sage went right to the couch, curling up in one corner and pulling what looked like a handmade quilt up and over her long legs. Daisy settled in on her lap, and David felt overwhelmed with gratitude for the comfort his little dog could provide to Sage.

If he couldn’t, at least Daisy could.

“So you brought soup.”

David nodded, pulling out the can of Campbell’s chicken noodle. “Pot?” he asked as he walked into her kitchen.

“To the left of the oven,” she called, her voice hoarse and rasping.

He rifled through a few drawers before he found the can opener, and in no time at all the soup was warming on the stove. His eyes caught on the copper kettle that sat on the stovetop.

“What kind of tea do you want?” he asked, going straight to the drawer where he remembered her retrieving her tea from when she’d made them breakfast.

“Chamomile?” She sounded surprised.

David quickly found the teabag, drawing on his memories of fixing his mom a cup of tea after dinner when he was growing up as he added a spoonful of honey from the jar he’d found in a cabinet. By the time the tea was steeping the soup was bubbling. It only took him a moment to track down a bowl, and then he was carrying the soup and tea out into the living room.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw Sage, who, bundled in the hoodie and quilt, looked like a turtle barely peeking its head out of a shell.

Adorable. Absolutelygoddamnadorable.

She watched him with a glare that looked like it was more for show than her seriously being annoyed that he was bringing her soup and tea.

“Eat,” he said, setting down the bowl and mug on the low wooden table that sat in front of the couch.

He hesitated, suddenly aware of the fact that he’d barged into her home.Should he leave? Shit, he should probably leave…

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