Page 83 of Play the Last Track
Of course, it’s more than a fling, more than one night in a foreign country.
It was months of him smiling at me while I scowled at him. Weeks of him trying to start a conversation with me and persisting even when all I did was shut him down. It’s the charity ball, and him seeing me so clearly. It’s him standing at my back, letting me handle my past, protective but only if I call on him. It’s the dinners he cooks for me every night now, overruling any takeout options. I close my eyes, a tear finally falling down my cheek. I don’t bother wiping it away.
It’s the way he kisses me, like I’m the one he needs to breathe properly.
It’s the way he stares at me in bed.
It’s the way he listens.
What if I never get to tell him? What if something’s happened and he thinks all I wanted from him was a good time? A short time.
My throat closes, and I struggle to breathe. Another few traitorous tears fall over my cheeks, and I feel like I want to claw at my throat, stop the sobs creeping toward the surface. Ivy lifts her head, her body turning toward me and her arms wrapping around my shoulders, drawing me in. I bury my face into her shoulder, and my body wins. I cry.
Because, for fuck’s sake, I love the man and I didn’t even get the chance to tell him.
Flynn
I wake up to the rhythmic sounds of a steady beep. As my vision comes into focus, my eyes stinging and sore, I take in my surroundings. A hospital room, tubes coming out of my forearm, machines surrounding me, reading for signs of life.
There’s a heavy weight on my legs, and before I look down, I internally prepare for a cast or two. Did I break a leg? An arm?
Something was wrong, and my head hurt like hell after the contact with the defender. Getting hit directly by someone’s helmet is never fun. It’s how we break ribs, get bruised bodies. It’s part of the game. But contact with the head … it’s downright frightening. Dangerous.
I glance down and smile.
No cast or broken legs, but Katie. Sitting in a chair by my bedside. She’s leaning over the bed, one arm stretched over my legs and the other curled underneath her head. She’s asleep, but the teartracks are clear, her mascara having run down her face. She looks a little like a raccoon. She’s going to hate that.
I laugh, and the gentle shake jostles her.
Her bright blue eyes, blinking away the sleep as she opens them, stare right at me. “Oh my god, you’re awake.”
“Hi,” I try to say, but my voice is scratchy and raw. Katie jumps into action, hurrying to the table at the other side of my bed and getting the water cup from it. She holds the straw up to my mouth, but I refuse, trying to lift my arm.
“You have a cracked bone in your shoulder and a very bruised collarbone. Let me fucking help you,” she commands. Is it wrong that her bossing me around turns me on? In the context of me lying in hospital, probably yes. I lean forward and take a sip of the water.
The liquid slides down my throat, and I immediately feel better. “Thank you.”
“You scared the shit out of me,” she says, her voice breaking a little.
“It must have been a scary thing to watch.” I stare up at her, wishing I could lift a hand to touch her. I will my fingers to move and they do, thank god. I lift the arm that isn’t in the sling very carefully, but Katie stops me, slipping her hand into mine.
“You shouldn’t move too much. The doctors haven’t come in yet, but they will now that you’re awake.”
“Is it bad?” I ask.
“Well, they won’t tell me anything.” She rolls her eyes. “Scott got pretty mad. They wouldn’t let any of us in.”
“Why?”
She gives me a sad look and gently squeezes my hand. “We’re not family. Eventually, Ivy pulled a string with a nurse she knows.”
“Oh.” I want to kiss her. I want to take that pained expression away.
“But…” She takes a deep breath. “It’s not good. I saw them talking to Jeff. He looked distraught.”
Fuck.
I don’t know what to say. I’ve had football injuries before, but nothing quite like this.
