Page 188 of Wrong Pucking Player

I’m not excited to deal with this conversation.

So, I let the darkness take me and hope to fix this shit after.

OUR GIRL

~MACKENZIE~

“Give him five minutes. If he’s still not out of it, I’ll get Katherine. At least both teams are in the gym, so no one should come here. I’ll get the towel situation sorted.”

“Thanks, Leo,” I say in relief as I watch him nod my way before leaving the locker room.

Glancing down, I stare at Wyatt’s sleeping face. Even though he’s unconscious, he doesn’t look peaceful in the slightest. It makes me worry even more as I run my hands through his hair again and again to keep myself from completely freaking out.

I catch the squeeze of his eyelids before he lets out a weak groan and stirs.

“Wyatt?”

Relief floods me as he opens his eyes after a few attempts. It takes him a minute to register where he is and who he’s looking at.

“Xandra?”

“Mackenzie,” I correct, stubbornly. “Jeez, you scared me.”

He looks confused as he observes his surroundings and where he’s lying down—his head resting on my lap while he lies along the wooden bench.

“I was carrying the towels,” he acknowledges.

“That Leo is now picking up. Don’t worry. He’ll throw them back into the wash for a cycle so they can be put in the dryer and ready for the game later today,” I assure him. “How are you feeling?”

“The world isn’t spinning anymore,” he admits. “Fuck. Please tell me no one else saw me like that?”

“Only me and Leo,” I assure him. “Now, Cyrus Jr., you better explain to me why you’ve been dealing with vertigo when you’re a damn doctor. You’re literally qualified to diagnose yourself. Why in the hell are you risking your health and not getting checked?”

The dread in his expression makes my heart sink in worry as he groans and lifts his hand to his face.

“Can you not call me Cyrus Jr.,” he mutters before attempting to sit up, but I stop him.

“Hey, don’t sit up so quickly. You’re only going to trigger another spinning vortex.”

“Isn’t that a nice way of putting it,” he sighs. “I’m fine, Xandra.”

“Mackenzie.”

“I hate calling you by your full name,” he argues.

“Then call me Kenzie.”

“That’s Oscar’s way of calling you.”

“Yes and no.” It’s my turn to grumble. “Armani calls me Andrews, and with the way things are going, Xandra will be a nickname with no association to me.”

“Why is that?” He doesn’t get it.

“I’m changing my name.”

He seems completely taken aback by that as he peers up at me with wide eyes.

“To?”

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