Page 107 of Dirty Pucking Player

It’s obvious he’s not thinking clearly. Bash is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. And retiring now is just stupid.

“His dad is dying. That may have something to do with it.”

“Oh. Shit.”

The light turns green, and I continue toward the airport. “Yeah. His sister asked me to come.”

“Wait, isn’t Bash from Michigan?”

“Yeah. Michigan. I’m on my way to the airport right now. I need you to watch my place. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. I’ll try to keep you updated when I know more.”

“Okay. Does this mean you two are…”

I shake my head as I turn onto the freeway. “No. I’m just going as a friend.”

Jill releases a heavy sigh. “Do you think that’s a good idea, Greer? Emotionally?”

“I mean…” I shake my head. “No, but his sister says he needs me there.”

“Did he ask for you?”

Leave it to Jill to get to the nitty-gritty. The question I should probably be asking myself but haven’t. Mostly because I know what the answer would be and it would keep me from going when he needs me.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. If I get there and he doesn’t want me around, I can always come back.”

Jill’s silence speaks volumes. The farther I drive down the freeway, the more I feel her judgment through the line. I know she means well, but she can’t understand the situation. She doesn’t know Bash. She doesn’t know the relationship issues he has with his father. She doesn’t know what it would mean to him to have someone there for him.

“Jill, I know what you’re going to say…”

“I feel like this is setting yourself up for more heartache.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m just going to—”

Boom.

Something slams into me hard from behind and to the left. I grip the wheel to try to stop the car from going to the right, but it’s useless. The car careens to the side and slams into the guardrail.

The world flips.

Metal crunches.

Glass shatters.

And then…darkness.

* * *

BASH

I stand and reach toward the ceiling, stretching my lower back to ease some of the growing tightness there. These places were not meant for comfort, and the combination of sleeping on hotel room beds and in hospital chairs for so damn long has my body protesting.

A nurse wanders into the open door and offers me a kind smile. “Any change?”

I shake my head and glance at the bed. “No.”

She nods and goes about checking all the machines and jotting something in the file. She turns before she leaves me again. “It will just take time.”

“I know.”

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