Twisted Collide: The new sports romance in the Redville Saints series
Twisted Collide: Chapter 48

It’s been a long and draining week since I found the DNA test. When I said yes to coming over today, I felt fine. Now, standing at his front door, I feel like I’m dying.

I’m exhausted and to make matters worse, it’s that time of the month.

We’re supposed to be fun and casual, and now I’m rolling up feeling like shit. My stomach is cramping, and I’m miserable. It feels like I’m coming down with a cold or flu.

I should cancel.

If I turn around now and head back to my car, maybe I can text him from the car and let him know.

Right as I’m about to scurry back to my car, the front door opens.

“Planning on knocking? Or were you just going to stand there all day?”

“I mean, it’s nice over here.” I pretend to look around and examine his front door. “Nice shade. Spacious. No one to interrupt me as I do some soul-searching.”

He suppresses a smile. “The inside is even better. Come, I’ll even make you hot chocolate.”

Dane reaches out and pulls me into his arms and picks me up.

“What are you doing?”

“Making the choice for you.” He carries me into the house. His footsteps sound heavy with our combined weight, and I grimace from the sound.

Now my head hurts.

A groan slips out.

He halts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” There’s no way he’s buying what I’m selling since I sound like shit.

In his arms, I breathe in his scent. He smells delicious. Like the forest on a summer day. Crisp yet smoky.

My lids flutter shut as he walks us to his bed. Then he places me down on the floor. I expect him to kiss me, but instead, he pulls back the fluffy duvet.

“Get in.”

I arch my brow. “What are you doing?”

“You don’t feel good, so I’m tucking you in.” He moves to the cabinet and opens it, rummaging through the drawer until he pulls a T-shirt out. “But first, put this on and get comfy.”

I reach out and grab the soft cotton from him before slipping my sweater and leggings off.

Once I’m in his shirt, I slip under the sheets, and Dane then tucks me into his bed, taking great care to make sure I’m fully covered and comfy.

A feeling of comfort washes over me, and although my stomach hurts, I feel happy and at peace.

“What can I get for you?”

“I’m PMSing.”

“Okay, well, I have plenty of experience with this. So let me handle it.”

“Um—”

“Molly,” he tells me.

“Oh, got it.”

“Yeah, she’s always had bad periods, so I’m an expert. I’ll be back. Just close your eyes and rest.”

I try to do what he says, but my mind is spinning a million miles per minute.

Is this really happening?

Here I am, a miserable wreck, and the man I’m supposed to be casual with is tucking me into his bed to make me more comfortable.

Shouldn’t he be telling me to leave?

Isn’t that what men do?

I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. Obviously, I was no virgin when I met Dane. I’ve never had anything serious other than a college boyfriend, but he never would have tucked me into his bed when I was ill.

I close my eyes again, but my bone-tired body is not able to stay awake.

I’m not sure how long I’ve slept, but the sound of footsteps and rustling of plastic has me opening my eyes.

I blink a few times to clear the haze and replace Dane standing beside where I’m sleeping.

“I brought you some necessities.” His hands reach out, and he pulls back the duvet, slipping a heating pad over my stomach. It’s already turned on and feels amazing.

“I also brought you some medicine and things.”

“Things?” I smile.

He works his jaw as he hands me the bag, and I look inside. “I didn’t know if you needed pads or whatnot or which you liked, so I brought—”

“The entire CVS store?”

“Hey, I stayed away from the nail polish and makeup section. It is a big black hole I never venture into unless Molly is really depressed.” He grins. “I also made you hot chocolate with marshmallow inside, as advertised at my front door. Secret recipe.”

Right on the nightstand, I replace a huge, goofy ladybug mug with steaming hot chocolate and marshmallows. The man didn’t leave anything up to chance. I take a sip and close my eyes. It’s heaven. And he’s right. It doesn’t taste like a regular hot chocolate.

My brows knit as I try to figure out the secret ingredient. Cinnamon? No. No. It tastes like . . .

“Melted caramel candy.” He helps me out, his voice hovering close by, his addicting male scent mixing with the cocoa smell. “Don’t tell anyone. As I said, secret recipe.”

“Now you’ll have to kill me.” I open my eyes, smiling.

The hungry possessiveness I replace in his eyes brings me to a halt. “Kill you? Nah. I think I’ll keep you.”

“I love you—I mean.” Shit. “Not love—you know what I mean.”

Dane laughs. “Yes, I know. You love my superior hot chocolate.”

“Yeah, I was talking to the chocolate.”

There’s also candy he bought from the drugstore. I grab a bar out of the bag and start eating it. Damn, that’s good. There’s crispy praline in each bite and creamy hazelnut.

It’s to die for.

After I finish eating, I put the wrapper back in the bag, and he shakes his head. “I’ll take the trash.”

“Dane, you don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“No, really, this is too much.”

“It’s not nearly enough. Every girl deserves to be spoiled when she feels like shit.”

I sigh, closing my eyes again. “I could get used to this.” But you shouldn’t.

Dane Sinclair is a drug.

One dose, and you’re hooked for life.