Page 9 of A Quarterback for Christmas

“And how do you plan on getting to your third-floor room without an elevator?” Bella purses her lips and drops her head. “What about food? Do you have anything to eat because you can’t get deliveries in that snowstorm? How are you going to get the food up there without help?”

“I… I….”

“Nope. Sorry, Belly. There’s no getting out of this. Drew will take you to his house, and you’ll stay put until I can get there.”

“Wait, you’re coming back?”

“I’m not exactly going to leave my oldest child stranded in a snowstorm with a broken leg.”

“But that means you won’t be there to have Christmas with Mom and Caity.” She sounds genuinely upset about the prospect, which surprises me because I thought she’d love making it all about her.

“Sorry to say this, sweetheart, but our Christmas won’t be ruined. I won’t get anywhere near you until the blizzard passes, which looks closer to New Year’s.”

I watch her face fall as realization settles in. “Wait a minute. I have to spend Christmas with Drew?”

“Don’t sound too excited,” I mumble and crack my knuckles. “You’re not my first choice either, B.” Like I’d leave my mom alone during the holidays to spend time with a girl who can’t stand me.

“But…”

“No buts,” Coach interrupts. “You’ll let Drew look after you until I get there. I’ve settled your hospital bill, so you need to get yourself signed out and home before the weather worsens.”

Two prominent veins pop out of Bella’s neck, and I recognize those veins. They’re always out when she’s holding back how she’s really feeling. One thing’s for sure, she will take everything out on me when she gets off that phone. So, instead of waiting for that, I stride out of the room, looking for a nurse.

As I leave, I catch her last sentence. “I’d hardly describe Drew’s smelly football house as home.” I chuckle and shake my head before heading toward the nurses’ station. Bella’s always had a way with words, and for some twisted reason, I like it.

“Oh, Hon, I know you were passed out, but you should have seen how your boyfriend carried you in,” the nurse says, checking over Bella’s cast one last time. Bella shifts uncomfortably; her neck is strained because she’s forcing herself to look out the window, and away from me.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Could have fooled me. You looked like that couple inThe Bodyguard. He came in all disheveled from the snow, and started yelling for help. He wouldn’t stop until you got the best care we had.” After that slight exaggeration from the nurse, she winks at me and looks back down at her checklist.

“No, he didn’t.” Bella sighs, still staring out the window.

“You two have been the talk of the hospital since you walked in this morning. So cute.” And that’s my cue to leave and get a wheelchair for Bella. I could carry her to the car, but I doubt she’d let me touch her when she’s conscious, let alone carry her out.

By the time I’m back in, Bella is at least looking at the nurse. “We’ve fixed the crutches to fit your height. However, I also showed your boyfriend how to adjust them if you need to. You’ll be wearing the cast for at least six weeks, but we expect you to return in three to monitor the healing.”

The nurse continues talking, but watching Bella’s face, I know she’s not listening. With a few shuffles in the bed and an eye twitch, I can tell she’s finally realized that her gown has no back. Too distracted to listen, panic fills her face, and her eyesdart around the room, looking for any spare item of clothing. Can’t wait to see her face when I tell her I was too busy dealing with her well-being to spend much time dealing with her broken suitcase and picking up frozen thongs from the street.

“Well, if you don’t have any other questions, I’ll leave you to it. The weather is getting worse, so you best be on your way; otherwise, you’ll be stuck here until after Christmas,” She laughs, but I can tell Bella is considering that as a viable option.

The nurse shuffles out, and I look back at my reluctant houseguest. “Come on, roomie. It won’t be that bad. I’ve got hot chocolate and marshmallows, after all.” I smile at her, a peace offering if you will, but she doesn’t return the gesture.

Falling back onto the bed, she closes her eyes and huffs out. “Drew. Where are my clothes?”

I scratch the back of my head and offer her a crooked smile. “Guess you don’t remember much about the fall? Your skirt buckle caught on some railing, ripping it straight from your body. That’s why I used my jacket to cover you up.” There’s no emotion on her face, and if it weren’t for the topic of this conversation, I’d argue that she almost looks content.

With closed eyes, she states, “That doesn’t explain where my shirt is.”

I shrug, heading over to my bookbag. “The gown is protocol. I put your shirt in my bag, along with some of my shorts, since the clothes I could salvage off the street from your suitcase were wet.” Pulling out the clothes, I toss them in her direction, purposely hitting her face because, why not? When she pushes the fabric off, she looks horrified. “You can wear those until we get home.”

I turn around to give her a little privacy and hear her cursing my name under her breath. I bite my tongue, imagining her trying to do anything with that cast on. After a few minutes of struggling, I hear the rustling stop. I don’t hold my breath as Iwait for her to ask for help. She’s stubborn as a mule, albeit a lot more attractive.

“Drew,” she drawls out reluctantly. “I need your help.” I’m surprised she used those words, but it’s not like she has any other choice.

As I walk over to her, she holds out my green shorts, looking at the floor with disdain. “Is it okay to move this?” I pluck at the bedsheet, and before I can do anything, she bunches the fabric up to cover her groin. Guessing she forgot I was the one to protect her modesty earlier.

“I just need you to put the shorts on over the cast. I can do the rest.”

---