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Chapter 41
Violet
The morning sickness stuck around for a while. By Sunday, I was exhausted from all the vomiting and stayed in bed with Krush snuggled beside me while Remington got up for a run.
But by dinnertime, I was feeling better, and my stomach growled from emptiness. I’d only been attempting to keep fluids down, and so far that day I’d accomplished that small feat, but now I was starving.
Krush lifted his head when I climbed out of bed, but when I reached for my robe to cover my sleep shirt and panties, he huffed and lay back down. He loved to sleep, especially in our bed with me cuddled beside him, but apparently he wasn’t ready to end his nap yet.
I stroked his head and then went in search of Remington.
I heard the television on in the living room and walked in to find a football game playing on the huge flat screen that took up most of the far wall. Remington was sound asleep on the couch, an ice pack on his head and his pain medication bottle open on the coffee table in front of him along with a protein drink.
My heart clenched looking down at him like that. He’d been taking more and more of those damn pain pills lately, and every time I saw that bottle, I died a little inside. They reminded me that we were on borrowed time and I could lose my husband at any moment.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grabbed the folded blanket on the plush chair where I loved to read and covered Remington up. Tucking it around him, I bent and kissed him, but he didn’t even stir. Pulling the long-melted pack from his forehead, I started to leave to put it back in the freezer when something the game announcer said caught my attention.
“Thornton is playing the worst game of his rookie year tonight,” the man said, and I turned to see what he was talking about. He kept talking, showing a replay in the bottom corner of the screen, but I tuned out his words as I watched what was currently going on in the live game.
Tennessee’s defense was on the field, and the cameras seemed to be more focused on Luca than the offense, which was only twenty-two yards from scoring. When the quarterback got the ball, he threw it, his running back going straight past Luca with ease and catching the ball in the end zone.
But as the ball touched the guy’s hands, Luca hit him from behind. It was an ugly hit, and I watched as the other guy curled up like he was in agony once Luca got off him.
Gasping at what a dirty hit it was, I threw the melted ice pack at the screen. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-shouted. “Fuck, Luca. Fuck.”
I stood there watching the replay, and I groaned when the refs called a personal foul on Luca, while the announcers both wondered if he’d get fined.
“You idiot,” I muttered. “Are you trying to ruin your career? Huh?”
A commercial break started, but I didn’t move from where I was standing. I couldn’t even think about not watching as the game came back on and Luca’s offense took the field. They didn’t score a touchdown, but they did kick a field goal, which put the score at 17-14, with Tennessee in the lead. There was only enough time for the other team to try to score again, but as long as the defense held strong, Luca’s team would win.
But as I watched, I could tell Luca’s head wasn’t in the game. He wasn’t focused on keeping the offense back. No, he was more concerned about dishing out as much pain to whoever got in his way as possible.
As another guy went down, I groaned loudly, causing Remington to stir. Biting my lip, I glanced at him, making sure he was still sleeping before turning my gaze back on the TV. “No,” I hissed. “Stop it right now, Luca. You can’t keep acting like this.”
Of course, he didn’t hear me, and the other team scored with only five seconds left to go.
“You had this, you idiot. You had it, and you let them get through. Why, Luca?” Pissed at him, I started pacing in front of the screen, talking to myself as if the dumbass were sitting there and could hear me. “This is not how you play the game. You are supposed to be focused. What the hell is wrong with you? Ugh, we both know you’re better than this.”
“Violet?” Remington called out, sounding confused.
I inhaled deeply and turned to smile at him as he sat up on the couch. “Hey,” I greeted softly.
“Who are you talking to?” He glanced at the screen, his brows pulling together because the game was over and had gone straight to another round of commercials.
“Just myself,” I told him. “Didn’t you know you married an insane woman?”
His lips quirked up at that. “Insanely hot.”
I grabbed the remote and turned off the television before dropping down beside him and cuddling into him. “I’m hungry. Feel like eating?”
Remington’s eyes lit up. “You want to eat?” I nodded, and my stomach growled, reinforcing my answer and making him laugh. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it for you.”
“French fries and salted caramel sauce,” I said, licking my lips at the thought.
He made a face at the combination. “Is this a pregnancy craving kind of thing?”
“I want sweet and salty,” I said with a shrug. “And hot wings. I want some hot wings so badly right now. And strawberry jam with toast.”
