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“Hey Franny?” Rachel calls through the house. “You may want to come get your donuts.”
“Be right there,” Francine grumbles, “though I don’t know why they won’t just give them to you…”
“How long are you home?” Rachel pitches her voice low.
“I leave the day after tomorrow.”
“Then I will make myself scarce.” Rachel reaches for her jacket and car keys where they hang on a hook beside the front door. “You’re a good egg, Morrow. Just do me a favor and don’t tell Franny I said that.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, Winters. Thanks for being here for her.”
Rachel takes her leave and soon Francine appears in the front hallway, leaning on a set of crutches, Stevie on her heels.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of Francine standing in front of me wearing Union red over black leggings that hug her quads and lower body. My number adorns her sleeves and all coherent thought disappears from my mind.
“You’re wearing my jersey.”
“Sort of,” she offers a shy smile. “I bought it.”
“I would have given you one.” I cross the floor toward her, closing the distance between us. “I have plenty.”
“Yeah…but no amount of doing laundry gets the smell out. Sorry.”
“Fair enough.”
I drop the box of donuts on the front table and take my girl in my arms. She sags against me, wrapping her arms around my waist as her crutches clatter to the floor, startling an already excited Stevie who runs off and makes a quick circuit of the house.
“What are you doing here?” Francine asks, burying her face in my neck.
“Coach, and I suspect Alex had a hand as well, pulled some strings with management and got me sent home. We have tonight, and all day tomorrow before I’m due in Ottawa for the next game.”
“What kind of donuts did you bring me?”
“Wow. I see how I rank.”
“Blame it on the anesthesia. My brain is still scrambled. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Then I better get you back to the couch.”
Gently lifting her from the floor, I carry Francine back to the living room, carefully depositing her on the couch where it seems she’s made herself a nest of blankets and pillows for propping up her leg. After getting her situated on the couch, and leaving room for Stevie to join her, I retrieve the donuts, deciding not to waste time with plates and just take the whole box right to the living room.
“What are we watching?” I ask, sitting down next to Francine. She’s stretched out on the L-shaped end of my sectional, and I shift our bodies so that she’s leaning against me.
“Iwaswatching you self-destruct on the fourth line tonight.”
“Too soon, Franny.” I laugh, covering us both with the blanket. I nestle the donut box between us and watch as Francine’s fingers hover over the open box, dancing between the maple bar and the buttermilk glaze. “Want to share half of each?”
“Not really, no,” she answers with a laugh. “I just can’t decide what I’m in the mood for.”
“Want me to pick for you?”
“I do not.” This woman.
“Okay. How about I make us both some tea, and you can use that time to decide on a donut.”
“Also no.”
“Francine.”
