Ashton’s POV
I wake up to feet digging into my spine and no covers over my body. I glance back to see my daughter lying vertically across the mattress, the duvet wrapped around her like a shroud of stolen warmth.
Rolling over, I groan as my muscles protest the awkward, cramped angles I’ve endured all night due to my wriggly five year old. The guys on the team moan about aches from training, but they should try sleeping in a bed with their back arched like a damn boomerang to accommodate a three foot tall human who somehow occupies the space of an entire defensive line.
Sitting up, I stretch my arms high over my head, trying to unkink my spine before pushing to my feet. I find myself bending forward slightly like an old man . . .a feeling that hits me more often lately when I’m standing
