Page 117 of Power Play

“You know the answer to that.” I step into her apartment and shut the door softly behind me. I cup her face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over her cheeks. She’s burning up, her skinhot to the touch. “I was worried about you. What can I do to help?”

“You don’t have to help. I know how to deal with it by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“Just because you know how to do things by yourself doesn’t mean you should have to. Where were you before I got here?”

“My room.”

Piper walks down the hall, and I follow behind her. I’m practically vibrating with nervous energy. I want to make sure she has water. I want to make sure she has enough blankets. I want to do whatever I can to take the pain away from her, because I don’t like seeing her so small and hurting.

She slips under the covers. Her eyes flutter closed and her nose scrunches up, a cute line of wrinkles forming between her eyebrows.

“Did you text me?” she asks.

“Yeah. When you didn’t answer, I wanted to come by and check in.”

“The light from the screen hurts my head, so I turned my phone off.”

“I figured as much. Also thought you might’ve fallen and hit your head.”

“Not this time.” She fumbles with the items on her bedside table and lets out a strangled groan. “Dammit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I left my headache hat in the freezer. It helps with the?—”

I’m heading toward the kitchen before she can finish that sentence. I pull open her freezer and find a sealed bag in the front of the drawer with some sort of black Velcro contraption inside. I pick it up, cursing at how cold it is, and turn for her room.

“This shit is freezing,” I say, and her laugh is quiet. “You put this on your head?”

“It helps with the pain. The numbness is nice.” Piper sets a washcloth on her forehead and holds out her hand. I unzip the bag and set the headache hat in her palm, watching her slide it over her hair until it covers her eyes. “Oh, that’s much better.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“More sleep. I’m so tired. I’m going to rest my eyes for a while.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good.” Her smile is warm. A sight that makes me tingly and confused and elated all at once. “That makes me really happy.”

THIRTY-ONE

PIPER

I don’t knowhow long I sleep, only that it’s the best sleep of my life.

I sink into deep dreams of floating on clouds. I bury myself under the covers and savor the stillness of my room. Every now and then I’ll wake, restless for only a second or two before I’m unconscious again.

The pressure in my temples starts to cease. The pain in my head slowly retreats until I’m blinking my eyes open. Until I’m warm and rested and on the verge of feeling like myself again. I stretch my arms over my head and pull the headache hat away from my face.

I blink into the dark, getting my bearings. Soft light filters under my door, and I swing my legs to the edge of the bed. Tapping my phone screen, I see that it’s just past three in the morning, the rest of the world asleep while I’m firmly awake.

Wrapping a blanket around my shoulders, I open the door and glance down the hall. The hum of the heater is the only noise in my quiet apartment, and I make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

A figure on the couch in the living room nearly causes me to scream until I realize it’sLiam, his tie half unknotted and hisshirt rolled to his elbows. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and one of his shoes is off, the polka dot sock on his left foot proudly displayed.

He’s beautiful in the flicker of the lamplight. It’s such a different sight from who he is when he’s in the goal or when his head is between my legs—the dominant, possessive archetype of a man.

This is him stripped down.

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