Page 120 of Slew Foot
How long would Rafe want to put up with that?
“Mickey?” Rafe had crouched down, looking Mickey in the eye.
“I …” Mickey said helplessly.
“I know it’s scary,” Rafe whispered. “I’ve had concussions too. They’re frustrating and unpredictable. But we’ll get through this.”
It seemed so grossly unfair for Rafe to have to deal with this when they’d only begun dating.
“Maybe I should …” Mickey trailed off, not even sure what he was going to say.
“Get to bed? Yeah. That’s a good idea,” Rafe answered.
That wasn’t at all what Mickey had meant but he nodded anyway and stood. He stumbled a little, the world tilting sideways, but Rafe was there with a steady hand.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Mickey thought again as he braced himself on the counter to finish brushing his teeth while, nearby, Rafe smoothed lotion onto his face.
Mickey was supposed to be healthy and fit and showing Rafe what a great boyfriend he could be. They were supposed to be playing the best hockey of their lives on the ice and then having the best sex of their lives in the bedroom.
This was supposed to be the happy, joyous, smitten period of their relationship where everything was easy. They were supposed to have time to build afoundationbefore life got crazy.
But as Rafe helped him to bed a short while later and Mickey curled up behind him, pressing his forehead to the base of Rafe’s neck, he had to admit that whether it was supposed to be or not, this was what he was stuck with.
What they werebothstuck with.
Nothing else in their relationship had been in the usual order either, so maybe in some weird, fucked up way, this fit.
“Love you,” Rafe murmured, already half-asleep.
“Love you too,” Mickey said thickly, hoping it would be enough.
In the morning, Mickey practically had to shove Rafe out the door for practice.
“I’ll be fine,” he argued. “Dr. Pope arranged for a car service to take me to the testing appointments.”
“But you shouldn’t be alone.”
Mickey shrugged. “I’ve been alone for worse.”
That was only partially a lie. He’d had various injuries in his career, including a groin strain that required icing everything surrounding his private parts—which had been especially awful—but it was less frustrating than this stupid concussion or whatever it was.
Rafe scowled. “That doesn’t mean youhaveto be.”
“The team needs you,” Mickey argued.
He could definitely see why there were some downsides to dating a teammate. Though he didn’t say that part aloud.
What he did say made Rafe scowl more, but he finally left, and Mickey could finish getting ready, using the wall for balance when his own failed him. He eventually made it down to the lobby and out the door into the warm spring air where a large black SUV waited.
Mickey bent down to peer in the window and see if it belonged to the car service, blinking when the window slid down to reveal … “Mrs. O?” he asked, confused.
Catherine O’Shea smiled at him. “Hi, Mickey. I’m your ride today. Connor thought maybe you could use some company.”
“Oh,” he said. “You don’t have to do this …”
She arched an eyebrow. “Of course I don’t. But I want to. And I’m sure your mother would appreciate knowing you’re being looked after. Get in.”
Mickey sighed and got in.
