Page 55 of The Hard Hitter

I laugh at that. “Of course we are.”

“I somehow doubt it.”

I divvy up the pasta, and bread. “Want to eat in the living room, watch a movie?”

“I would love that.” We make our way to the living room, and I flick on the television. Some chick flick that she seems excited about comes on, and I place my plate on my lap and dig in.

“This is so good,” she says, her eyes wide, full of delight.

“Better than those microwave dinners you eat?”

“Yes, but they have way less calories.”

“Sam, you’re perfect just the way you are.” She gives me a small kiss on the cheek, and warmth settles in my chest, right around the vicinity of my heart. “What was that for?”

“No reason,” she says.

We both turn back to the TV and finish our meals. I shift on the sofa and pull her to me. We stay snuggled until the movie ends, and I carry her to my room. It’s still early enough for me to shoot a text off to Quinn to ask about Daisy, and see if she’s up for watching the game tomorrow. I do that as Sam makes her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. My gaze is latched onto her body as she walks away, and I can’t deny that it feels so right to have her here in my bed…my home.

Quinn texted back that they’re in, and that Daisy and Scotty are fast asleep, and that she noticed Daisy was doing so much better with her ‘s’ words. I smile at that.

Sam comes from the bathroom, dressed only in her bra and underwear. I gave her a toothbrush, but that’s the extent of her belongings here. “You’re going to have to start keeping clothes here,” I say to her.

She frowns.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about my father,” she answers, and while I don’t doubt that, I sense there is more going on with her. Could she be changing her mind on relationships?

If so, is she thinking we could make one work?

Is that even what I want?

Changing the subject, I say, “My buddies and their wives can make the BBQ, and Quinn is up for both the game and BBQ, and she said she noticed Daisy is much better with her words.”

That brings a smile to her face. “That makes me so happy.”

She settles into the bed, and I head toward the bathroom to take my turn. “Why speech therapy? What made you choose that field of study?”

I put toothpaste on my brush and run it under the water. I move back to the doorway to hear her answer, but her nose is crinkled and she’s plucking at an imaginary piece of lint on the sheet.

“Sam?”

“I… When I was younger, I had a stutter,” she says.

“Really. I wouldn’t have known.” I take a moment to think about that. When we first met, sometimes she would pause during speech, like she was trying to formulate her words. The more time we spent together, the less she did it.

She flattens the sheet over her thighs, and runs her palms along them to smooth them out. “It was bad, and I was embarrassed by it.”

I stop brushing. “I’m sorry.”

“I was teased, relentlessly, and I guess I just wanted to help other children avoid the pain that comes with being different.”

My heart wobbles slightly. This woman is seriously too good to be true. “I had no idea.” I walk back to the sink and finish brushing. She’s fixing her pillow when I get into bed. “Kids can be so cruel.”

“Adults, too.”

I take in the pained look in her eyes, and my body stiffens. “What happened?”

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