I release a very unsteady breath, expelling the air from my lungs, embarrassed as all hell but also wholly turned on. It’s impossible to focus on anything other than Declan, even when Doctor Waggoner gets to work, spreading my hair around the gash.
“You’re going to feel a pinch, then you may feel a cold sensation as the anesthesia is injected. After a few moments you’ll be numb in that area and I’ll put the stitches in,” Doctor Waggoner explains.
Declan squeezes my hand tighter.
I hiss as the needle penetrates my skin. My eyes squeeze shut, but I don’t let another tear fall. Instead, I blow out, forcing myself to stay calm despite my instinct telling me to freak out.
“You’re doing amazing, Hailey. Keep breathing through it. Squeeze my hand if it’s too much.”
Declan has no idea his words are straight out of a spicy romance novel, or how utterly turned on I am right now for him.
I don’t dare tell him.
And for the next ten minutes I get lost in the symphony of praise he sings to me as his team’s doctor stitches me up.
CHAPTER NINE
Which bubble wrap company do you think would be best to buy stock in?
Hartley
??
Duck? Scotch? The actual Bubble Wrap brand?
Hartley
Hailey… Now what happened?
Well, it started with dropping a couple of forks and ended with five stitches.
The message barely changed toreadbefore the phone starts vibrating in my hand. “Hello, sister.”
“Hailey what the hell? Are you okay?” Hartley screeches through the phone over a flurry of other voices. A door slams in the background as she moves to a quieter space.
“I’m fine. I needed a few stitches and some prescription Tylenol, that’s all. I promise.” Inadvertently, I rub my fingertips against the edge of the gauze that covers my wound.
“Oh, that’s all, huh? Like you aren’t terrified of blood. And needles. And have the world's lowest pain tolerance?”
She’s right, and I know she knows I’m lying. But I don’t want to worry her, either. There’s nothing she can do from clear across the state.
It’s not like I'm in the hospital.
Once Doctor Waggoner was finished putting me back together, Declan insisted on bringing me home. I watched from the bench in the dugout as he said quick goodbyes to a few of his players—shining like the man of the hour when they clapped him on the shoulder, their smiles radiating as they chatted with him—then grabbed Sailor from Gareth.
With his daughter on his hip, Declan curled his hand around mine like it was the most natural thing on Earth, and led us out of the stadium. Sparks radiated through our connected skin and even though we walked through the evening air, a rush of heat coursed through me.
When Declan said he was taking me home, I assumed he meant mine.
But now, I’m curled up on his couch under a plush blanket while he makes us a late-night snack.
“You shouldn’t be by yourself,” my sister scolds. “What if you have a concussion?” A static-like scuffle scratches the speaker. “Hang on, I’m going to see if there’s any flights for tonight.”
“You don’t have to come up here.”
“It’s only an hour and a half flight, it’s not a big deal.” Her voice sounds a little further away—she must be looking up departures.
“No, Hart. I’m not alone.” A blush settles on my cheeks, and I glance across the room at the light illuminating from the kitchen. I lower my voice. “Declan brought me back tohishouse. I’m staying here tonight.”