Page 174 of The Revenge Plan (Forbidden Descendants 1)

His gaze roved the room, taking us all in until he spotted me. Stopping his scan, he broke into a full grin.

“Hey,” he murmured sleepily, his eyes half-lidded as if it took him an extreme effort to keep them open. “You’re here.” He held out his hand my way, wanting me beside him.

“Of course she’s here, doofus,” Cannon told him, tapping him on the arm in reproach. “Who do you think got you to the hospital in the first place? You probably really would be dead right now if it weren’t for this lady.”

Reaching Wick, I took his hand, and when he latched on to my fingers tightly, it was the best feeling in the world.

“You did all that for me?” he asked.

I glanced at his friend, who seemed to have made peace with me sometime during the night, and answered, “Cannon was right there with me.”

Wick squeezed my fingers warmly and glanced between the two of us. “My heroes,” he murmured in pleasure before he squinted at me and grew suddenly worried. “Wait. Have you been crying?”

That’s when I knew he was going to be okay. He was back to worrying more about my safety, comfort, and wellbeing than his own. It made me start crying all over again, but in gratitude this time.

45

Wick

They released me from the hospital two days later.

After removing the tube, they sewed the area closed and scheduled me to get the stitches removed in ten days’ time.

I’d never been so scared to look into a mirror in my life, but once I did, it wasn’t all that gruesome. They’d shaved a portion off the crown of my head, but I had enough hair everywhere else, I could probably cover the bald spot with not a whole lot of work. It wasn’t Frankenstein-worthy, but it wasn’t pretty either.

All my friends visited while I was in the hospital, popping in after practice to check on me. They apologized for not realizing how bad off I’d been, but I told them not to worry about it. Who knew a little concussion would turn into a freaking epidural hematoma and a hole in the head?

My family came in and out at all hours of the day, but Haven and Cannon hung around the longest. Izzy even had to stop by our apartment to feed Bingley because Haven didn’t want to leave my side. I had to say, I liked having her there.

The two visitors who surprised me the most were my coach and Muldoon, who claimed he’d been the one who’d t

ackled me and caused the concussion in the first place. I couldn’t even remember practice from that day, so I had to take Muldoon’s word for it. But I did recall him being one the of douches who’d held me back and beat on me the night that fucker Nicholl had hit Haven.

It was hard for me to forgive him for that when he apologized. But then he told me the coach had questioned everyone about my concussion—because apparently someone’s mother had complained about my treatment—and he insisted he’d been the only o-line player to come clean and admit every misdeed they’d ever done wrong against me.

Four offensive players had been immediately suspended from the next playoff game, excluding Muldoon. Since there was no way in hell I’d be able to make the game either, that meant the coach was going to have to scramble to replace five starters come Saturday.

The second surprise visitor—the coach himself—came with a pocketful of apologies too. He told me he’d had no clue whatsoever—eye roll—about the kind of harassment I’d endured from Topher Nicholl throughout the last four football seasons.

When he asked why I’d never come to him and told him about any of it before, I lied and mumbled something like, “I don’t know. Thought I could handle it myself, I guess.”

And so, Haven and I cuddled on the couch together the day after I came home from the hospital, and we watched our team lose in the playoffs, which officially ended our football season for the year.

Setting her cheek on my shoulder and smoothing her hand across my chest, she murmured, “Bet they would’ve won if you’d been there.”

I smiled and caught her hand, bringing it to my mouth. “Hell yes, they would have.”

On Monday, I went to school, only to learn Haven had already spoken to my teachers about my hospital visit. They seemed surprised that I would return to class so soon.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure why everyone was so concerned. I felt a little tired, my head was sore where they’d drilled into me, but other than that, I was fine. To the delight of everyone—me included—I didn’t seem to need any rehabilitation therapy or have any cognitive or memory problems. I was one of the lucky burr hole patients, I guess.

The doctor told me not to drive for a while, and she put a restriction down that I’d have to pass a driving test before I could get behind a wheel again, but as long as I promised to take it easy, she said I could resume normal activities.

So, I did.

The first one I wanted to resume was supplying my girl all those orgasms I’d promised I would give her. Except Haven had gone into mother-hen mode. She was too worried about jostling me and causing my hematoma to bleed again. So no sex for us, although she did give me an abundance of blowjobs to make up for it.

No way was I going to turn those down, ergo I allowed them, every single blessed one of them. And if I could get her to stay still long enough afterward to cuddle with me a little, and not race off to get my anti-inflammatory medicine or a drink or food or a freaking lap blanket—because she was always running off to fetch me something—I would pay her back with my fingers.

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