Page 44 of Power Play Pursuit

“Later, man,” Hawthorne says, wrapping me in a tight bear hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Watch us on TV,” Beaumont adds before slapping my back.

I force myself to smile, but this goodbye hurts as much as my face does. These guys are my family. They’re all I’ve got. It may sound cheesy as heck, and I’m never going to admit it to them, but it’s the truth. And it sucks to see them go.

Marissa, Miles, Elizabeth, and I drive back together, and when the elevator stops at their place, Miles gives me a hug too.

“Kick some butt out there, okay, bro?” I say, tapping his back.

He nods. “And you get well.”

I offer a tight smile. “I will.”

Marissa waves at us as the elevator closes, and I suck in a small intake of breath.

“Are you okay?” Elizabeth asks, glancing at me with concern in her eyes.

I frown, staring at the floor of the elevator. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Saying goodbye, missing out on your first road games . . . I’m guessing it’s not easy for you.”

I run a hand through my hair. “It’s fine. I’m glad for the time off. I’ve been working since I was eighteen years old, so it’s a nice change of pace.”

She studies me for a second as the elevator stops. “Okay. Just wanted to check. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” I say, touched by the sincerity in her voice. No one has had my back in a long time, at least not in my personal life.Thisis a nice change of pace.

“Don’t forget to take your meds,” she says as we enter my apartment.

I chuckle. “Yes, Nurse Elizabeth.”

She spins to face me. “James!”

“Sexy Nurse Elizabeth?” I suggest, arching an eyebrow.

She sighs. “You’ve got to stop saying stuff like that. If we want this living situation to work, you have to tone down the flirting.”

I crease my forehead. “What? That’s hardly flirting. It’s teasing at best.”

She pins me with a stare. “James, I mean it.”

My shoulders fall. “Fine. I won’t flirt with you anymore.”

“Great,” she says, flashing a big smile before taking off her shoes.

I follow suit, then stretch my arms. As I do, a shooting pain radiates through my face, and I wince before stumbling slightly. Ihold the wall for support, steadying myself before she catches my reaction. Last thing I want is to be a burden or a Debbie Downer.

“James, you’re not okay,” she says, her voice laced with panic.

Too late.

She rushes to me, then takes me by the arm, guiding me to the kitchen stool. “What’s going on? Should I call the doctor?” She studies me, her face tense with worry. “I knew you were doing way too much today. I read online that concussions, even mild ones, require a lot of rest and supervision.”

I take her hand, touched that she took the time to research my injury, even if all this fretting is totally unnecessary. “I’m okay. Just maybe grab me an ice pack along with those meds? I feel like my head is going to explode.”

She stares at me for a second, probably debating whether or not to call the doctor.

“I promise I’m fine. I just skipped my last round of meds, and the guys really like to slap my back.” I wince at the reminder.

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