Page 43 of I Got You

Shane cuts me off. “It’s fine.”

I search his face. Is it fine? Before I can ask, Liv stumbles into the kitchen, still half asleep, her hair a mess and her bunny clutched to her chest. She makes a beeline for Shane and pushes her way up into his lap, curling into his large chest.

I almost burst out laughing at Shane, looking like a deer in headlights. “We Matthews aren’t morning people, well, besides Teddy. Though I’m not convinced he ever sleeps.” I watch as he leans back in the chair to help Liv get comfortable, then return to my morning tasks.

“Are you all snugglers?” The big man mumbles it under his breath, knowing I’ll hear him. Crap! He caught me. But then, I realize the giant shit is playing with me. He should know by now that I’ll definitely play this game. I whip around to look at him. He sits there with his phone in one hand and his other arm supporting Liv, as nonchalant as ever.

Because I am who I am and can’t help it, I lean over, resting my elbows on the island with my coffee between my hands. “I have a distinct feeling that you, Shane Carter, are a closet cuddler. It goes right along with that grizzly bear personality. All big, tough, and broody on the outside, sweet and gentle and snuggly on the inside.”

He groans, and a grin creeps across my face. I get to work pulling things from the fridge and cabinets to marinate chicken for dinner, knowing we’ll likely end up with Cole and Hank’s friends for dinner.

We made it through our first day and night as man and wife. Things are just getting started. I turn around to see Shane wrap one of his big arms around Liv to ensure she’s secure on his lap as he returns to his phone. I have no doubt the man I married will be full of surprises. I just hope only the good kind.

∞∞∞

I pull into the high school parking lot after a stop at Target and then drop Teddy off at the birthday party. Shane’s ‘It’s fine’ comment this morning about a ring has stuck with me. I’m not sure if it was the way he said it, like there was a slight hint of disappointment, or if I’m reading too much into it. Or maybe it’s just my guilt that I didn’t think to get him one in the first place.

I take a deep breath and push it out. I won’t be making this into something it’s not. Been there, done that, and walked away with a shattered heart. I have no intention of going there again, and I have a feeling it’d be really easy to fall for Shane. All that gruff swagger and mysteriousness. His calm, quiet confidence. The softness I know lies underneath it all. The man seriously seems to have no clue what we ladies see, and why does that have to make him all the more appealing?

I think about his big warm body and how good he smells. The way he looked at me in my towel. Stop. Just stop it. I have no doubt our lives are about to blow up after news hits the feed. I need to be focused on getting the kids through that and be on my game for the phone calls I know are coming, not daydreaming about my husband.

As I reach for my bag, the sunlight catches my ring. I stare at the beautiful ornate sapphire ring. I’m not sure how Shane picked it, but it’s absolutely gorgeous and completely perfect.

I, for one, am happy to wear it today as I gather my things and head out to the soccer field. Hank’s assistant coach hasn’t quite gotten the hint that I’m not interested after turning him down multiple times. He’s arrogant, has a bit of a slime ball aura about him, and has no interest in anything other than a good time.

Now, I don’t have to make excuses. Hopefully, a flash of the ring and he’ll move on. I grunt as I lift my large bag filled with drinks and snacks for Liv and Garrett and climb out of the car.

“Guys, grab your stuff.” I unbuckle Liv, and she hops down as Garrett comes around to our side, both dressed in blue jerseys that match mine. I look around for Shane’s truck and Cole’s car but see neither. I text both.

ME to COLE: Meet you in the bleachers. You better have your blue on. Hank’s all nerves, so get your butt here.

ME to SHANE: If you make it, look for us in the bleachers. We’ll be the long line of #5s.

I put my phone in my back pocket, starting toward the field as the players warm up. Before climbing up the bleacher stairs full of home team parents and friends, I stop to search for Hank, wanting to be sure he knows that we’re here. Even though he pretends to be indifferent, I know we help calm his nerves.

I spot him across the field stretching, feeling a sudden dose of my own nerves. Each time the kids, even Cole, take the field or have an event, my body prickles with excitement and pride. It was the same all those years ago with my dad.

Our dad instilled in us a drive to give our all for the things we love, and that doesn’t stop where the field lines end. Thinking of him and how much he’s missing makes my eyes sting with tears I force to retreat.

Hank looks in our direction, and I pump my fist in the air three times as my dad always did after a win. Then turn to show my jersey with our name and his number, which I know he’ll roll his eyes at but secretly love.

I turn to the kids. “Let’s find seats and get settled, then I’ll see what’s at the concession stand.”

We find an open row a few down from the top as Cole climbs toward us.

“Hey. Did Hank see our jerseys?” He plops down next to me.

“Yeah. I’m sure he rolled his eyes.” I notice some of the parents are tuning into our conversation. I’m used to not being loved in every setting, and it’s fine. Being the child of Tim Matthews doesn’t always make things easy or friendly, but I hate how these parents look down on Hank. He’s incredibly talented, and maybe part of its genes, but a lot more of it is his desire and drive. These people will never get that. They only see what they want to see, which just so happens to be the name on the back of his jersey.

“I’m going to check out the concession stand.” I stand, ignoring the stares and whispers. “You want anything?”

“We want popcorn.” Liv jumps up as Cole pulls her onto his lap, tickling her.

“Just a water,” Cole answers.

I zig-zag through people and make my way down the sideline, but before I get too far, I hear someone call my name. I turn to see Assistant Coach Get a Clue jogging over.

I keep inching my way closer to the end of the field where the concession stand is because, one, I don’t really want to talk to him, and, two, I don’t need to add fuel to the other parents’ fire.

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