Page 126 of Brace and Chase

The possibility breaks my heart into a million pieces only for him to put it back together with one question.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Come over here and kiss me. Everything hurts,” he whines.

I sigh, equal parts relieved and annoyed.

I turn to the doctor and wince.

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he assures me with a nod and a barely there smile, and then he walks out and closes the door behind him.

“Nikolay, you fucking asshole,” I whisper, every word coated with the emotion clogging my throat. My eyes damp, I rush to him and stop just an inch away from his face, my hands hovering by the sides of his head. I drop them and kiss him more gently than I ever thought I could.

“Why are you being mean to me?” he asks quietly.

“Because,” I start, barely controlling my tone. “You put your head in a puck’s way, you idiot. You could’ve died,” I cry a little louder, but step back and take a few deep breaths when he winces. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“I always said that if I die young I want it to be on the ice.”

“And you thought you’d give it your best shot tonight?” I demand in a furious whisper.

“No,” he defends himself, then pauses, frowns. But I guess the frown makes his head hurt—hell, everything probably makes his head hurt—because he forcibly relaxes his face. “I don’t remember anything after going to sleep last night.”

“Okay,” I say, still breathing hard. “We won and clinched a playoff spot because you stopped a puck with your head.”

“That makes sense,” he mumbles, then amends quickly when he sees my furious face. “It makes sense why everything hurts, not that I did that, okay?”

“Uh-huh,” is all I can say. God, I could kill him myself right now. But I have to focus on something else, so I start with the most pressing thing. “Your brother and the whole world are thinking you might be dead right now. Do you want me to let him know you’re not?” He looks sad at my clipped words but I can see he understands what I’m saying. That has to be a good sign, right?

“Yes, you can tell him I’m okay.”

“My mother wants to come down here and kill you, what should I tell her?”

“Oh, no,” he whines a bit louder this time, and very slowly tilts his head back to groan like a baby. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her you’re already being mean to me.”

“All right,” I relent. “All of our teammates are in the waiting area as well as Laney. Are you up for them to come in and see you?” He takes his time thinking about it. “It can be less than a minute per person, Nik, they’re all really worried.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay,” I whisper back, and breathe, fully breathe for the first time. “I hate you so much right now, Nik. You scared the fuck out of me.”

He tilts his head down again, and must see how glassy my eyes look because he holds his hand out to me. I walkthe two steps over and take it. He pulls me forward and kisses the back of my hand.

I blush, of course I do, and shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the romantic show of affection.

We’re not the romancy types, so yeah, this isn’t usual.

Then he shatters the romance—thankfully—by being a little shit.

“I think I really did try to use my stick, sweetheart.”

“You don’t even remember,” I point out, deadpan.

“It’s coming back to me now,” he tells me, clearly lying through his teeth. “In any case, I’m sure the clip’s already all over YouTube, so we can analyze it later.”

Yeah, sure, fat chance of that ever happening.

THIRTY-SIX

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