Page 256 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

Not only does the Viper Captain smirk, but he also leans over until my lips are lightly claimed. It’s such a simple touch, yet it kindles so many emotions that I’m fighting to contain.

I’m alive.

One of the men I absolutely love is also alive.

He risked his life to save me.

Now, we’re here.

Snuggled in one hospital bed after waking up and confirming we weren’t dead.

“I’m told I don’t like to follow doctors’ orders,” he whispers and gives me one more peck on my lips. “Just like a certain stubborn nurse who won’t eat her oatmeal.”

“It’s bland.”

“You love wildberry oatmeal.”

“The texture isn’t right.”

“Texture means nothing when you’re starving.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Now that’s just a blatant lie.”

We stare at each other for a solid minute, and I know I’ll lose this battle. More than anyone, Maddox knows me the best. He may be aware of my stubbornness, but he doesn’t back down until he’s made all his points as to why my need to avoid, dismiss, or downplay something that’s serious is toxic and not good for my wellbeing.

God, he’s all the green flags you need in a relationship.

That grinds my gears because I can’t justify arguing with him.

“Hmph.” I end up grumbling and proceed to cross my bandaged arms. “I want to go home.”

“You know I’d love to approve that, but Coach Johnson and Coach Cyrus both said we have to wait until morning to be seen by a special doctor to confirm our discharge,” he reminds me as if I forgot. “Meaning, you have to eat or else you won’t have the energy to look reasonably normal in the morning and one step closer to going home.”

See? Can’t win.

“I hate you,” I concluded, acknowledging my obvious loss in this conversation that revolves around my wellness.

Maddox quietly chuckles, the sound a bit rough with cracks in the sound, reminding me that he inhaled a lot of smoke.

Apparently, the night doctor said he should be okay, and his oxygen levels were better than earlier, but post-op care would include breathing exercises to encourage his lungs to expand until normalcy.

“Say that looking right in my eyes, Mkaykay.”

He knows I can’t, so I mope in my misery, which rewards me with a kiss on my cheek and left temple.

“You’re cute when you don’t get your way.”

“You’re high on pain drugs.”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh. Don’t agree with me?”

“Why?”

“You know why!”

---