Page 46 of Falling for You

I don’t hear what she says, but my brother’s eyes soften; I know her big heart is instantly forgiving him, me on the other hand, I’m going to fucking punch him.

“Well, at least now you know exactly how she feels, son,” my dad says, and I nod as Eddie walks over and takes a seat on the stool.

“Alright fucker, give it to me,” I say, and he smirks then confirms, “You have a concussion.” I groan, knowing I won’t be able to play the rest of the week.

Fuck.

“You were lucky, Taylor, real fucking lucky,” he says, “You have bruising to your jaw from where he hit you, and you have a nice lump on your head, but otherwise, you’re going to be alright,” he looks around the room then back at me, “As you’ve probably figured out, you are out for the rest of the week then we have a bye week, and if you pass my tests after the bye week you can play again.”

I nod, then ask, “How’s the team doing? Last I remember was the Sparks started a massive fucking fight.”

Eddie smiles and says, “Jack has a nice slash on his arm; Levi has a bruised eye, and Seth has a broken nose. You managed to stop Ezra from getting a serious head injury when that idiot defender tried to hit him with his stick and the refs called the game early, the Red Lions winning. Coach is doing damage control.”

“Fuck winning the game, the fucker got a head injury himself trying to save me,” Ezra butts in with anger, I give him a shake of my head, not wanting him to rile my sister back up, especially with Pen on the phone. He sighs but nods back begrudgingly.

“Uh, Eddie,” Dyl says, getting our attention. He winces as he holds the phone out, and I narrow my eyes as Eddie takes the phone.

“Yes?” he says as he puts the phone on loudspeaker, seeing my reaction.

“Hi, this is Penelope Vine, I’m a registered nurse. I watched the match or game or whatever you want to call it,” I grin as Dadchuckles as my girl proves she wasn’t aware of who I was when we met and is not a puck bunny. She continues, “Not only did he knock his head on the ice before the hit, causing his helmet to fly off, but he hit his frontal lobe before he blacked out for twenty minutes, and yes, I timed it from the moment he went down to the moment my call finally got answered. How sure can you be that he can play again within two weeks after that injury, especially with a concussion? Protocol normally states he should be off the ice for at least six months!” she rants with a rasp to her voice, emotions clouding her, and I can’t help but snort that she’s gone into nursing mode. My dad has to bite his fist to hold in his chuckle while Ezra and Dylan clear their throats.

My sister looks at the phone with awe while Eddie nods at me and states, “She’s a keeper, Evans,” to which I reply, “Yeah, I know.”

Shaking his head, he states, “While he was unconscious, we did a head CT. There are no signs of damage to his frontal lobe, only bruising on the surface. As long as he isn’t showing any signs of dizziness, vomiting, headache, ear aches, or all the usual signs, then he can continue to play, and as a nurse, you know normally it’s one to two days before getting back into it,” she cuts him off, “yes but not with that kind of bang and not the father of my child,” at that, he grins.

“Yeah, she's definitely a keeper,” he murmurs, then says to my girl, because sheismine, “Would it make you feel better if we get him a full workup when we return to New York?”

I sigh, knowing she’ll want me to take the tests, and I really can’t say no.

My dad raises a brow with a smile, but I shrug and say, “I’ll do all the tests so Pen’s mind is at ease while I’m on the ice.” Eddie nods, while Pen sniffles, and I look at the phone with concern.

“Okay, let’s get the checks done, Eddie, so we can get Tay back to the hotel. Then he can Facetime his girl, and she can see he is, in fact, alright,” Ezra says, and I nod, liking that idea a lot.

I groan as I lay on the hotel bed, grab my phone, quickly plug it in, bring up Pen’s number, and press the video link.

When we were leaving the rink, I promised I’d call as soon as we got back to the hotel, and fuck, she sobbed her heart out, and I fucking hated it.

Being in Vancouver while she’s in Brooklyn when she’s struggling with her emotions is fucking hard. I just want to hold her close.

“Hey,” she rasps as her beautiful face fills my screen.

Her eyes are red, including her nose, while her hair is up in a messy knot, but what gets my attention, what makes my heart fucking lift, is the shirt she’s wearing, the one I wore the night we met but haven’t been able to find.

“I’ve been looking for that shirt,” I say lowly as I get comfy on the bed, putting my back up against the cream headboard.

She sniffs, then says, “And you are not getting it back, finders keepers.”

I grin and ask, “Even if it was at my place when it went missing?”

She smiles slyly, then shrugs and says, “I don’t know what you are talking about,” making me chuckle.

The smile on her face disappears as she takes in my face, the big fucking bruise on my jaw and head and worry etches off her.

“Where’s our boy?” I ask, hoping to distract her.

She doesn’t answer me for a moment, her eyes taking in my features before she turns the camera to the bedside bassinet attached to her bed, where our boy sleeps wearing a Red Lion onesie. I grin as she puts the camera back on me.

“Dad got it for him,” she admits, and I nod, knowing how much of an amazing grandfather her dad is despite him being a shitty father.

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