Page 52 of Courtside

A part of him wanted to stay. Sage’s apartment was homey and warm in a way that he hadn’t figured out how to create in his own space yet, and he could easily picture himself leaning his head back against the couch and taking a nap. With how much he’d been working, he needed it.

But he’d run out of excuses to put off the stats and the game tape that waited for him. He had a job to do, and damn if he wasn’t going to figure out what was wrong with his team.

Or with him. The problem could very well be him.

CHAPTER15

KALE YEAH!

SAGE

By the time Monday rolled around, Sage was back to feeling normal. A few days of rest, sleep, and what felt like hundreds of mugs of tea delivered by a sheepishly smiling David seemed to have cured her. The snuggles with Daisy hadn’t hurt at all either.

When she’d woken up in the middle of the night on Saturday with David’s dog still curled up on her lap, she’d half expected to find the man somewhere in her apartment. But a quick glance at her phone revealed the text he’d left her — of course, with abbreviated words, because apparently being articulate was a lost art. The dog seemed happy enough, and so Sage had scooped Daisy up and taken her into her bedroom, where they both fell back to sleep almost immediately.

If she’d been disappointed that David hadn’t stayed, she blamed it on the fever.

In the morning, she texted David about picking up Daisy. Of course, that meant he came back over armed once again with canned soup, only this time he also brought a carton of chicken bone broth. “I got an organic one,” he’d mumbled as grabbed the pan from where he’d set it to dry the night before. “Seemed like something you’d be into.”

He’d looked so big in her kitchen, his long arm reaching for spices while the other stirred the broth on the stove. His wide body took up space in a way that almost made her feel small. Safe, even.

And he’d just stuck around.

No matter how many times she’d suggested he leave, or mentioned that he probably had better things to do with his time than watch her nap or cough or blow her nose for the millionth time, David stayed.

When he wasn’t actively doing something — making her tea or heating up another pot of broth — he sat in the opposite corner of her couch, one leg folded on the cushion while the other stretched out in front of him, with a book in his hand. He pulled out those fuckingdeliciousglasses when he read, and Sage couldn’t find it in herself to complain about his presence.

She hated the fact that she needed help, but there was something about David that didn’t leave her feeling unsettled in the wake of his kindness. In the short time that she’d known him, she’d seen little glimpses of a man who directed his attention and efforts into caring for others. She’d seen the way he’d insisted on making sure she was home safe on multiple occasions, like the thought of something happening to her under his watch was unbearable. The way he’d practically moved himself into her apartment over the weekend, insisting on doing everything for her.

She’d drawn the line when he’d tried to vacuum the carpets.

Maybe it was because she’d been so sick, but it had been easier than she’d expected to just sink into the warmth of being taken care of. Her roommates used to give her shit, saying that if her car went off the road into the river, Sage was more likely to take up residence with the frogs than call to ask for help.

* * *

After the third night that week of David showing up at her apartment with takeout, Sage put her foot down.

“David,” she said, looking down at the pizza box he’d placed on her counter. Daisy had already made herself comfortable on the large pillow that had unofficially become her dog bed. “If you want to hang out, then at least let me cook.” She held a hand up when David opened his mouth to respond. “I’m better now, and if I eat any more pizza I’m going to get sick all over again.”

David’s shoulders sagged as he rubbed one of his big hands over his face. He still looked weighed down by exhaustion; she could see it in the purple smudged under his eyes and the deepened frown lines around his mouth. “Honestly, Lefty,” he said, his voice rough and matching the lack of energy in the rest of his body. “I’ll probably cry if you cook something right now. I’ve been surviving on frozen dinners and take out, so something homemade sounds like the greatest thing in the whole goddamn world.”

Sage couldn’t help but smile as she looked in the fridge. “How does spaghetti sound?”

David groaned — a low, rumbling sound that sent a rush of heat down her spine. “Sounds incredible.”

It only took a minute to gather the ingredients from the fridge and put a pot of water on to boil. Sage fell easily into the rhythm of moving through her kitchen, smashing the broad side of her knife down on the cloves of garlic to make peeling them easier.

“Can I help?”

Sage glanced up, her fingers continuing to tackle the brittle skin that covered the garlic cloves. “Nope,” she said. “Get something to drink, sit down, and tell me about your day.”

David scowled at her, but rounded the counter to look in the fridge. “You have a bunch of weird stuff in here.”

She snorted a laugh, scraping the now chopped garlic up with her knife and tossing it in with the ground beef that was browning in a skillet. “It’s just sparkling water and kombucha,” she said, moving on to chop the white onion.

“What’s kombucha?”

“Think a tangy, fruity tea.”

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