“Why am I even friends with you?” E rubs at his sore nipple.
Around us, the hospital slowly starts to show more signs of life, dayshift nurses checking in, a cluster of doctors gathering around the nurses’ station to prep for morning rounds while E and B continue to bicker like an old married couple.
Arms stretched overhead with a yawn, Grayson makes his way back to the group, informing us that Kay is officially being moved to her private room. The puffy bags forming under his eyes and the barest lightening of the sky outside the windows drive home how late—or early—the hour is.
“Okay, listen.” Jordan motions for everyone to gather round. “Today is going to be a long one. We still have a brief window of time for ourselves, but after that, things are going to happen fast.” My earlier fatigue starts to creep back in, making my bones feel heavy as I think how right she is. “Why don’t you guys head home and grab a couple of hours of shut-eye?”
A communal negative sounds out, causing Jordan and nurse Vicki to share some kind of silent communication before the stern healthcare professional takes the reins.
“Look…it’s admirable how you all have hung around to support your friend, but there aren’t enough strings in the world for me to pull to let all of you stay.” She holds up a hand, cutting off the rebuttals sure to come her way. “Eight”—she pauses for emphasis—“eight can stay, and that’s pushing it. The rest of you can come back when visiting hours officially start at nine o’clock.”
For a group who was generally keeping its volume down out of respect for our surroundings, we sure fail now as people start jockeying for the right to be one of those allowed to stay.
The Royals were an easy sell, but getting Tessa to agree to leave with them took a Herculean effort on JT’s part. It was only Herkie needing someone to be there to feed him breakfast that convinced her.
I had a similar issue with the guys, especially Trav, but he was driving Quinn and Bailey back to campus. Plus, I need people to talk to Coach Knight about what actually happened before it gets spun out of control.
#Chapter9
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
What’s that beeping?
Ugh. God my head hurts.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Oh, wait…
I’m in the hospital. That’s good.
Whatever the doctors gave me earlier has helped take the pounding inside my skull down to a dull throb, but still…it doesn’t tickle.
“Babe, I need your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re the league commissioner—you can go in and edit Kay’s lineup.”
“Why would I do that?”
My brain is still fuzzy and floaty. I’m not sure if the voices I’m hearing are in my head or real. I’m leaning toward real because two of them are male and my inner cheerleader is the only one I typically have speaking and, more often than not, shouting at me internally. Either way, they are pretty entertaining.
“Your husband is scared of his little sister.”
“And you’re just jealous she drafted Dennings from New England as quarterback over you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
“Babe…” There’s a sigh. “If you want the chance of us having a baby, you need to change the lineup. Otherwise Kay will have my balls.”
I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel like my eyeshadow was mixed with lead and they weigh a million pounds.
“Mase, take this seat.”
“I’m good with this.”
Familiarity slips under my palm and washes over me with a gentle squeeze. I will my muscles to return the gesture. Unable to manage such a simple task, I give myself over to the haze of my painkillers and fall back asleep.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I come to again. My body feels like it’s been hit by a bus, and when I blink my eyes open, I have to squint against the light, grateful at least the one directly above me is turned off.
The earlier conversations have quieted, the only sound the faint strains of an old rerun of Friends on the television mounted on the wall.
My vision clears and the room comes into focus. The first thing I take note of is its size. I get the impression strings were pulled to arrange it, as well as the number of people sleeping scattered around it.
There’s a full-sized couch under a wide window where Bette is currently cuddled up with E, and B is knocked out next to them, his head resting on his arms folded over the armrest.
A small round-top table sits in the corner, a variety of hoodies and such serving as makeshift pillows for G, Em, and CK.
Soft snores bring my attention to the right, my head swimming when I move too fast at the sound. Spots dance in my vision and nausea rolls from my gut up into my throat. I breathe through the worst of it, inhaling through my nose and exhaling out my mouth.
When I’m no longer in danger of tossing my cookies like a basket toss, I can’t help but smirk at JT—not even going to question my cradle-to-grave bestie being here—passed out in a recliner-style chair.
Too bad you don’t know where your phone is because look at that photo op. *points repeatedly* You could kayak down that river of drool.
I roll my lips in to hold the laugh my inner cheerleader is trying to get out of me. She may have jokes, but it doesn’t take away from how it feels to be surrounded by these people, my mishmash of a family.
My heart does a toe touch inside my chest when I look down at the weight causing the mattress to dip.
Mase.
My left hand is sandwiched between both of his, making it look like a toddler’s compared to his baseball-glove-sized mitts. His face is turned in my direction, as if even in sleep he was unable to look away.
Mentally I curse out Liam fucking Parker for the dark, bruise-like circles I see under Mase’s long, envy-inducing eyelashes. Though sparse, in every flash of memory I have of being here, he’s been by my side. It’s wrong. He should be in bed, recovering after a hard game, not running himself to the brink of exhaustion worrying over me.
That’s just who he is—my boyfriend, my protector, my Caveman.
Not gonna lie, his Neanderthal tendencies do make me all swoony at times—don’t judge me—but the issue at hand is when those protective instincts cause him to have blinders to everything that isn’t me. They’re the reason he didn’t see Liam go after him because he was too busy checking on me when I was fine.
Hold up! *makes T with hands* Can we take a second to wonder how the douchemonkey even got into the Alpha house?
Miss IC has a point, but my mind is too muddled to make the math compute on that issue.
So what’s a girl to do when she falls in love with an alpha man with zero sense of self-preservation? I’ll tell you: you pull a page right out of his own damn book—though the way my face feels like I took a frying pan to it has me rethinking that strategy.
Except…
The longer I look at Mase…
I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again.
His standard ball cap must have dislodged from sleep and is resting somewhere by my knee. His dark espresso-colored locks are disheveled, and I can’t help but reach out to run my fingers through it.