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Her response appears a minute later.

CALLIE: I dated into the family for YEARS. I earned that recipe.

I laugh.

Me: I’ll work on her at Thanksgiving.

Callie: My hero. Have the best night!

The front door opens. I look up to see Bishop walking in carrying his bag, hair still slightly damp from his postgame shower looking mouthwatering in his dark suit.

His eyes find me. Then drop to the jersey.

He stops.

“You’re still wearing it.”

I glance down.

“Should I not be?”

“Didn’t say that.” He closes the door and drops his bag.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” He eyes me suspiciously.

“Not saying things.”

His gaze moves over me once more. “Trust me, Becks. That’s probably for the best.”

The last week flashes through my mind. His voice warning me through my phone.

Careful, Becks.

We’ll see how brave you are when I get home.

I’ve been significantly less brave since he actually came home.

I tuck my legs beneath me. “Tough loss.”

His expression sours as he moves across the room. “Don’t.”

“You had an assist.”

“We lost.” He makes a pained face.

“Captain complex.”

He points at me. “I liked you better from six hundred miles away.”

“No, you didn’t.”

His eyes hold mine. “No. I didn’t.”

The single word sends warmth straight through me. He turns toward the kitchen. “Come here.”

“Bossy.”