Page 94 of Tight End

“Hey.” Poppy is next to us, her hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to take Oliver in?”

I look to the hospital building, my heart racing once again. “Yes. Please. Oliver, Daddy will see you in a minute, okay.”

And I’m off, eating up the distance between me and the emergency room at lightning speed. I burst through the doors, startling the nurses at the desk and a few of the people in the waiting room.

“Sir, can I help you?” One of the girls eyes me, looking at me warily, and I don’t blame her. I’m sure I look deranged.

I step up to the desk, and it takes everything in me not to lean over the counter and buzz myself through the door I’m sure leads to the back. “I’m looking for June Morgan.”

She hums to herself, typing into the computer, and dammit, she’s not typing fast enough. Only she doesn’t immediately let me back. Just raises her head and arches a brow. “And are you family?”

“I ... yes.” My heart leaps in my throat, and I swallow it down. “I’m her fiancé.”

A little white lie, but she doesn’t need to know, and if it helps get me back to see June, it’s worth it.

She purses her lips like she doesn’t believe me.

“Please.” I’m not above dropping to my knees and begging her to let me see June. “I have to know if she’s okay. If she’s ...”

The other girl hits the miracle buzzer and motions toward the door. “She’s in bay eleven.”

I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I’m through the door, barreling past the large front desk, and searching for—there it is. Bay eleven.

Except I can’t barrel in there as much as I’d like to. The thought of June lying in a hospital bed, injured, bleeding ... it’s enough to give me pause. I ... fuck. Please let her be okay.Please.

All the beeping and conversations around me die down as my fingers close around the curtain. My pulse beats in my ears, dread snakes through me, and for a moment I forget to breathe.

It feels like hours, days, for the curtain to pull back, and when it does, all the air whooshes from my lungs. June is lying on a stretcher, hooked up to an IV with a bandage on her forehead. She’s a little bruised, but she’s awake. Alert. She’s fine. Thank fuck. Fuck me. I don’t know what I would have done if she?—

No. I’m not even going to think it.

Her mom is in the chair on the far side of the space, holding June’s hand, giving me a tight smile.

I lurch forward, barely able to control my own body, and sink down onto the floor on the other side of the bed. “Youscared the shit out of me.” I grab her hand, giving it a squeeze, making sure she’s real. “I thought. I fuck ...”

She laces her fingers with mine, a few tears slipping down her cheeks, and I wipe them away. “Some jerk ran a stop sign. I’m okay. Scared but okay.”

Her mom stands up, clearing her throat, and kisses the top of her head. “The doctor already came in and checked her out. She’s got a small laceration on her forehead and a few bumps and bruises, but nothing major. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

As soon as she leaves, June sits up, her free hand coming to rest on my face. “Are you okay?”

I huff a breath. I think I’m definitely not okay. And I’m kneeling on a hospital floor. “I am now. And June? I don’t want you to move out.” I stop there, because telling her I want her to stay with me forever might send the wrong message. At this point I’m hoping she’ll take pity on me and say she’ll stay. In fact, I probably shouldn’t have asked here. “Sorry, it’s not the time. We can talk about this later. I’m just so happy you’re okay.”

June’s smile is small, and another tear slips from the corner of her eye. “I’ll stay.”

Thank fuck.

Just two words, two little words, and my entire world shifts. That dread hanging out inside me, weighing me down, lifts. This time when my heart races, it’s for a different reason altogether. It’s beating for her, for us, for this family we’re creating. I may not have been ready for her all those years ago, but I’m ready for her now.

She’s a little banged up, but she’s mine, and I’m never letting her go.

FORTY-SIX

June

It’s beena couple of days since the accident, and I’m feeling a lot like my old self. Maybe a little lighter. A little happier. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact I gave up my apartment this morning. Or the fat check sitting in my purse from my rental insurance. Or the football player waiting for me inside his apartment, watching a little college football before he has to leave for his own game.

Okay, who am I kidding? It’s all Ryan. He’s been a perfect gentleman while I recovered from the accident. He made me a bubble bath with a lavender-infused bath bomb and rose petals. He and Oliver brought me breakfast in bed. He held me close each night, whispering in my ear, telling me how much he needs me, how wild I make him.

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