Page 90 of Fierce Obsession

My lungs finally cooperate. I inhale sharply, coughing and rolling onto my side. I gag, almost throwing up, but manage to not make that big of a fool of myself. She pats my back until I twist toward her, then scoot into a sitting position like her.

“You been up long?”

“Just enough to watch you squirm in your sleep.” She points to the tray. “A nurse brought two breakfasts. I managed to convince her not to kick you out at four o’clock this morning.”

I rub my eyes. “Thanks.”

“It’s eight,” she supplies before I can ask. “And the doctor is discharging me.”

“You had a whole conversation with him while I slept?” I squint at her. I didn’t think I was that deep of a sleeper, but… jeez.

“You had a long day.” She waves me off.

That reminds me of my dream. Her hand anyway. I take the blanket and flip it off our legs, exposing her bare feet.

And her pink toenails.

I shiver.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a weird fucking dream,” I reply. “Um, I’m going to go check on that discharge paperwork. And see if you can fly.”

“We’re not flying,” she points out. “You have a home game. Melody and I are driving.”

I stop, realizing she’s right. “But eventually you’ll need to fly.”

Melody is picking her up? Are they that close? I mean, they met twice, but probably a grand total of under an hour spent together.

She sighs. “Stop trying to figure out my ulterior motive. It’s exhausting.”

“You’re exhausting,” I retort.

I put my shoes on and find my hat on the floor. After a quick detour through the bathroom—they even have a toothbrush, which I’m pretty sure is one Aurora keeps in her purse like a psycho, although it doesn’t stop me from using it—I head to the nurses’ station.

My mission?

To get therealstory.

One of the nurses recognizes me. I lean on the counter and give her my best, most charming smile. Once Miles was born, I had to rely on antics to get the attention I deserved. Which usually resulted in being labeledclass clownor some such monstrosity. I got the laughs I wanted, though, and the focus from my parents that I needed.

Miles was always the quiet, calm one. He had boundless energy on the ice and a bit of a toxic behavior when it came to competition. I mean,I’mcompetitive, but he took it to a new level. It was him who escalated things when we were on the ice together.

He was just too good. Naturally. I needed to take him down a peg or two. It resulted in fights, smack-talk, just regular brother shit but spiked by adrenaline and blades attached to our feet. And padding. Because no matter how hard you whack someone with a stick, it’s not going to hurt as bad if they’re in full hockey gear.

They essentially ended our feud when they put him in the goal.

I tried to goaltend, but I hated it. Hated being confined to the crease, to going from standing around to a hundred percent alert. To wearing the weight of the game on my shoulders if I let a puck in, if my playing wasn’t perfect.

Miles never sweated that.

So he could take that crease and all the glory that comes with being a goalie.

Me? Center. Aggressive, charming, lethal in a face-off. It’s where I shine.

Anyway, back to the nurse. She’s watching me like she’s never seen a hockey player with all his teeth before.

I refrain from making myself more human by detailing the almost-shit-my-pants scene.

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