Page 62 of Accidentally Sliding Into A Second Chance

“What about this weekend? Don’t you have an away game?”

“Yes, but it’s a series of games and I’ll be gone for a few—”

“Perfect!” Ava squeaks, hands clapping in the background. “A few days of you and Cat alone is just what you need.”

“Doesn’t Duncan have a game?” My brows pull together. “How’s that going to work?”

“I’m coming home for the weekend.” She sing-songs the last word. “I’ll be here to watch the girls with him.”

“Speaking of the girls…did you hear about the poll to replace the Smokies’ mascot?” I say, changing the subject. I need to let Ava’s idea percolate a bit before I commit to a first ‘date’.

Ava’s laughter fills the car as we talk about Emmy and how the entire fanbase is in love with her.

I hit the blinker, look around, and pull back onto the highway, making my way home. For the first time in weeks, the guilt that’s been hanging around my neck is gone. A glow warms my heart, and happiness fills me. An ease I haven’t felt since before Fiona got sick.

The closer I get to home, the lighter I feel. And for the first time, in what feels like forever, I can’t wait to get home to my family.

Thehouseissettledfor the night, and Cat and I are sitting on the couch watching a rerun of ‘Everyone Loves Raymond’. The episode where the Barones come home from vacation and leave a piece of luggage on the landing, neither Ray nor Deb wanting to take responsibility for it.

It’s a nightly routine we’ve fallen into, staying up and watching TV together after Scarlett’s in bed. Tonight is the first night that a rock isn’t sitting at the bottom of my stomach.

Cat’s sitting a few feet away from me, a blanket covering her, holding a cup of tea with both hands as she laughs at Deb’s and Ray’s passive-aggressive struggle. The sound inches the grin I’m wearing higher.

Emmy, lying between us, takes that moment to start snoring, and we both chuckle. Cat glances down at the pup, then runs her hand over Emmy’s head, the sweetest smile lining her lips.When her gaze shifts to mine, my breath catches, and I notice her lips drift apart.

A surge of electricity fills the space between us. She turns her gaze back to her hand on the dog’s head, and I let my gaze leisurely run over her profile, my heart pounding like wild horses running across my chest.

“Cat?” I whisper, so soft I’m not even sure the word came out of my mouth, but then she pins me with her big blue eyes.

“Yes?” She chews on her bottom lip, hands repositioning around the cup.

I pull in a shaky breath before quietly asking. “Do you feel this too?” I ask, motioning a hand between us.

Her eyes flare, a hint of surprise in them. She waits so long to answer, I begin to wonder if maybe Iammisreading things.

The audience laughing on the television pulls my attention to the screen, and then I feel her hand on my arm. My heart stutters as I turn back to her.

A soft smile curves her mouth, and she nods. “I do.”

The cushion between us dips just as Emmy takes that exact moment to huff out a breath and stretch, pushing against the two of us. “Ouch,” I groan, as she uncomfortably shoves a paw in between a set of my rib bones.

“Are you okay?” Cat giggles, pulling the dog’s foot from my body. Her hand brushing against mine, sending chills down my spine.

“I’ll survive,” I tease, rubbing the part where one toe was particularly sticky. Her hand hangs in the air, focused on where I’m massaging. Her expression is unguarded, soft, and filled with a tenderness that has my blood humming.

I clear my throat. “Do you want to date me?”

Cat’s brows shoot up, and she covers her mouth, giggling. “What?” she squeaks.

“Well, that makes a man feel confident and secure,” I snort, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

“I’m sorry,” Cat chuckles, not making me feel any better. I shift in my seat and turn toward the TV when I feel her hand gripping my arm. “You know I laugh when I’m nervous.”

“Actually, I completely forgot you did that,” I grumble.

“You always did hate it,” she says, still snickering. The warmth from her hand sends tendrils of heat through my body. But I refuse to look at her. Yeah, I’m acting like a child, but I don’t care. Stomping my foot would feel good, too.

Cat stretches over Emmy, who’s sleeping like the dead, rests her hand on my chin, and gently tugs my face toward her. “David, look at me.”

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