Page 39 of Rocking the Receiver
I timidly stepinto the room, and there he is—my lover, my boyfriend, my Elliot—lying in the hospital bed. My mouth goes dry when I realize how pale and disoriented he looks.
I make a point to look him in the eye rather than stare at the massive ice pack on his ankle. It must hurt like hell. I push down my impulse to rush to his bedside and squeeze him in a comforting hug. I remind myself that the nurse warned me he might be out of it because of the painkillers they gave him once the possibility of a concussion had been ruled out.
He may be groggy, but he has to set the pace, not me.
His eyes flutter open as the door clicks shut. He stares blankly at me for a tad too long. Is he trying to remember where he is? Is he trying to figure out who I am? Is he trying to figure out if I’m real? Then, a small, sleepy grin tugs at the corner of his luscious mouth.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice raspy. “You came.”
“Of course, I came,” I reply, forcing my voice to stay steady, though relief is flooding me. “You always make me come for you, babe,” I joke, moving closer to the bed and snatching a chair on the way.
He smirks, hisses, and complains softly, “You shouldn’t make me laugh… My ribs are aching.” His hand reaches out for mine, his grip weak but warm.
I kiss his knuckles, which oddly soothes my soul. “Sorry. It’s just good to see you… awake.”
I can see the confusion in his deep brown eyes, then a flicker of recognition. “I can’t believe I fucked up. Third game, and I screwed up!” His self-deprecation guts me.
I squeeze his hand and sit down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You went down pretty hard, babe. Soon we’ll know what’s going on, then you’ll have a game plan to your recovery. You’ll be okay… eventually. You need some rest first.”
His face falls a little. Turning his head slightly to look at me, he grimaces as he moves. “But what about the team? They took my phone from me.” He grunts. “What time is it? Did they win?” He pauses, averting his gaze. “Am I... out?”
My heart sinks at the worry in his eyes. He’s always so focused, so determined. Needless to say that the thought of being benched is killing him. I brush a strand of hair from his damp forehead.
“Hey, don’t think about that right now. You just need to heal, and you’ll be back out there in no time. You rocked today. This,” I gesture at the hospital bed, “is just a bump in the road.” I lean in closer and deposit a gentle kiss on his dry lips. “Just know that I’m here, and you’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this together.”
For a minute, it's just us, holding hands. The fear, the shock, and the uncertainty all fade away. Everything is right in the world again. He’s here. He’s okay… and he’s perfect.
“I should get going.” I stand up but remain near him while I reluctantly clue him in. “I left the game without telling your family.” I probably should have suggested riding to see Elliot with them. “Well, I sent Tim a short text after I split.” I berate myself for being so selfish, and my front teeth gnaw at my lower lip. Fidgeting on the bed, he hisses as he leans closer to me, his thumb gently releasing my lip. Screw selfishness, I needed a moment with him. Alone. “Your parents will be here any minute now.” I eventually notice the crease between his brows. “What is it?”
His eyes zoom in on me. “I think it’s time, Rupert.”
“Time for what?”Is he saying what I think he is?
“To tell them.” His fingers intertwine with mine. “About me, and us… Your mom knows, I think they should be on the same page. We don’t have to tell the rest of the world right now…”
“You’re ready to come out to your family?”
“If you’re on board with the idea… I mean, it also implies that you come out to them… myentirefamily.”
“Actually, I was with them at the game. Tim texted to say if I was anywhere near Austin, I should tag along.” As I come clean, a myriad of emotions runs across his face. Amusement. Disbelief. Doubt. “I couldn’t refuse, although, as you know, he believes I still live in Chelsea.” That’s why we agreed to keep our relationship under wraps during his family’s stay, and I checked into a nearby hotel.
“Please, Rupert.” His fingers tighten around mine before letting go. “Stay.”
Am I ready, though?
It’s a much bigger step for him than it is for me.
So, if he’s ready, then I’m?—
I don’t have time to form a complete thought or mull over my decision: The door swings open, and I feel him tense beside me.
Tilting my head, I watch his parents walk in. Their faces are a mask of concern and confusion, their brows furrow in distress. The coward in me is relieved that Tim isn’t with them. His mom’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the scene.
Caught between my boyfriend’s request and the weight of his parents’ curious stares, my face heats up before my breathing techniques limit my embarrassment.
Ah, the joy of being a redhead with my emotions displayed for everyone to see!
Elliot’s beautiful face doesn’t hide his feelings. Resolve. Hope. Defiance. That’s my man!
