Page 92 of When to Call a Blitz

“I’m okay, I promise, Emmett. Can you just get me back to your place? I’ll ice it and it’ll be fine in a bit.”

He doesn’t look so sure, but he scoops me into his large arms anyways, and I loop my arms around his thick neck until he places me in the passenger seat.

A two mile run may take forever for me to complete, but it takes only a few minutes to get back to his home by truck, and before I know it I’m back in Emmett’s arms and being brought into the house.

He doesn’t ask me where I want to go. He doesn’t ask me anything. Instead, he takes me right to his bedroom, the room I’ve really only been in the one day I took a shower here, and places me in his bed.

I sink into the fabric, which leaves me wondering what the fuck type of comforter he has.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, heading back out the door.

He returns a few minutes later with an ice pack and a couple pillows from the couch. Pulling off my shoes, he places them carefully on the ground before peeling my socks off. I hiss as he gets it over my right ankle, and he watches my reaction carefully.

Pressing gently onto it, Emmett feels around for any clear issues. When he can’t find any, he places the pillows under my foot to elevate it before laying a hand towel over me, and the flat ice pack over top of that.

The ice stings at first, but it numbs the pain quickly.

I sigh with relief.

When he’s finished with that, Emmett leaves the room again. He’s gone longer this time, but eventually comes back with a couple of mugs. He places them on the night stand before stripping me of my other clothing.

He tosses me a shirt from his dresser and helps me pull on a pair of his sweatpants, and once he’s done, he hands me the still hot tea.

I blow on it before taking a sip, watching him as he monitors the situation.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks, emptying out a few pain pills into his hand. He hands them to me, and I chuck them back with a single gulp, washing them down with tea.

“I’ll be okay, I promise.”

He doesn’t look so sure.

Biting at his bottom lip, Emmett grabs the remote from the side table and flips on the TV, pulling up our options. Handing it to me, I scroll through everything until I find a show I love.

Emmett gets busy changing his own clothes, and without a word he enters his bathroom, closing the door most of the way. I hear the shower turn on, and a couple of minutes later he exits, unable to look at me.

He changes silently, and to my shock, climbs into bed with me.

“You’re okay, right?”

“I told you I’m fine,” I whisper back carefully. I know where this is coming from.

His reaction since we got home makes sense.

His eyes bare into mine, pleading with me. “I promise I’m fine, baby,” I respond, placing my hand on his cheek. He leans into it before placing a kiss on my palm. “It was probably my legs still wobbling from yesterday.”

That gets him to crack a smile. “You would tell me if you aren’t alright?”

“I cross my heart,” I promise, drawing an x on my chest.

He nods, settling in next to me.

I lean into him, curling into his body the best I can with my ankle being iced, and at some point or another, I drift to sleep.

I don’t know how much time has passed when I wake up from my nap. The sun is still up, which is surprising because it sets so god damn early now.

Stretching, I attempt to move my ankle in a circle. When I’m able to do that, I climb out of bed, testing how it feels if I put pressure on it.

Although it doesn’t feelgood,it doesn’t feel awful either, and I decide it’s more than worth it to get up and out of bed, trying to find Emmett.

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