“Just my jersey, Maggie. No one else’s. Ever. I don’t want anyone’s jersey touching you but mine. Keep this one. Wear it any damn time you want, but don’t ever put Brady’s on again.” Oh. Okay. Oh my. I nodded and resisted the urge to wrap my arms around the shirt I was now wearing, and cuddle with it. It smelled like West. I was never going to want to wash it. He grinned. “My girl. My fucking jersey.”
