Page 22 of Scored

“I tried.”

His smile dimmed as he nodded. “Pride is a bitch, especially when you’re young and unwilling to consider the other side of the situation. I wish I could tell you that if I’d known who your father was all those years ago, it wouldn’t have affected my feelings for you. I can’t. I fell in love with my Vee, not the daughter of the owner of the Coopers. And now, when we’re together, you’re still my Vee.”

Blinking away the tears prickling my eyes, I leaned into his touch. “That’s who I always wanted to be.”

He brushed his lips against mine. “Let’s make dinner and go to sleep. A few hours of sleep on the plane with snoring football players and a few hours here is catching up to me.” He turned toward the refrigerator. “I haven’t been grocery shopping in a few days. New plan. We can order from downstairs?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Nearly an hour later, I was changed out of the jeans and sweater I wore to Maker’s Mark and wearing pajama pants, soft socks, and an oversized Coopers sweatshirt. While a new round of light snow fell beyond the windows, inside was warm and cozy as a fire crackled in the fireplace.

Fin and I sat side by side at the breakfast bar. My delicious portobello and avocado sandwich was nearly consumed as was Fin’s smashburger, complete with a fried egg. The wine from our glasses and the food in our stomachs had me ready for sleep.

“Do you want to watch last night’s game?” Fin asked.

“How could that only have been twenty-four hours ago?”

He scoffed. “I’m glad it was only last night. That gives me six more days to heal.”

Turning my stool, my knees brushed against his legs. I shook my head. “I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Spoiler alert, I’m fine.”

“You can watch the game. I’m going to get ready for bed. I feel like I could sleep for days.” I remembered something. “Oh, I forgot to mention the flowers I received at work today.”

His smile faded. “Don’t tell me, they were from Clark?”

“No, weirder than that.”

“Hard to believe there’s anything weirder than Clark. Who sent you flowers?”

“Are you jealous?” I teased.

“Should I be?”

“It depends on how you feel about Pirates of the Caribbean.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Jack Sparrow.”

Fin pressed his lips together. “Is that supposed to be code for something, or did a fictional character send you flowers?”

“Amber roses. Very pretty until they freaked me out.”

Fin straightened his neck. “Why did they freak you out?”

“The card attached had my name on the outside. Inside the card read something like congratulations on a great season, and about me being in the spotlight now, handling fame. The kicker was the end where it said the truth will come out, and oh, Dad isn’t here to stop it.”

“Fuck, Vee. That sounds like a threat. You need to call the police. Was it signed Jack Sparrow?”

“There wasn’t a name on the card. Jen contacted the florist, a local one. They said the order came from a thing called a floral wire service. They got the order from FTD or one of those networks.”

“The buyer didn’t personally enter the florist?”

“No. The only information they would give Jen was the name on the order.”

“What about payment information?” Fin asked.