I hiccup out a sob, the heart rate monitor beeping wildly with my increased stress.
An acutely unpleasant screech hurts my ears as Mase abruptly stands again. His movements are jerky, but when he cups my face between his large hands, it’s like I’m a piece of fragile glass. “You.” He stares directly into my eyes. “Are. Everything.” The breath gets stuck in my lungs. “All that other stuff is just gravy.”
Tears leak from my eyes, and the flow only grows stronger when he thumbs them away.
“Mase.” Emotion cracks my voice.
“I know, baby.” His lips graze mine for a far-too-brief kiss.
“Ugh. Gag me.” JT groans. “Are they always this…cutesy?”
“Pretty much,” CK answers.
“Be grateful you go to school so far away,” G adds.
The door to the room is pushed open, cutting off whatever shit-talking comment E starts to say, and I’ve never been happier to be poked and prodded by a nurse checking my vitals.
#Chapter10
I hang back with JT while the nurse does her examination. Fuck it’s painful to look at Kay with her beautiful face swollen and discolored by all the bruising. All my baser instincts are screaming at me, and I know they won’t be satisfied until Liam Parker meets a similar fate. If Kay wasn’t currently lying in a hospital bed, I’d be running out to find him and beat his ass until not even his mom would recognize him.
The soft snick of the door opening has everyone turning to see Dr. Nikols enter the room. She gives a cursory nod before swiftly moving to Kay’s bedside, following up with both her and the nurse.
Dr. Nikols pulls a penlight out of her lab coat’s pocket, and my teeth grind when I see Kay wince at the brightness. I know from experience how painful having a concussion can be, and I’m sure the rest of her isn’t faring much better given the hits it took.
I’ll never admit it to her, but her worrying over me and her attempt—no matter how misguided—to protect me only makes me love her more. However, it doesn’t take away from how annoyed I am that she would literally put herself in harm’s way to do it.
Me.
Six foot five.
Two hundred and fifty pounds.
Collegiate football player.
Protected by his girlfriend who isn’t even five feet tall.
Comical.
Ridiculous.
But completely mine.
“How are you feeling, Kayla?” Dr. Nikols asks.
“I’ve been better.” Kay’s expression twists as the doctor gently inspects her recently reset cheekbone.
“I bet.” A small smile tugs at Dr. Nikols’ lips. “Any nausea?”
“Only when I first woke up,” Kay answers. “As far as concussions go, this one’s not that bad.”
“You’ve had concussions in the past?”
Kay starts to nod only to cut it off with a pained breath sucked through her teeth. “I was a competitive cheerleader.”
Understanding dawns on the doctor’s face. “Ah, yes. I’ve fixed quite a few broken noses from the sport.”
“One injury you’ve never had, PF.” JT laughs around the pfff pronunciation of Kay’s nickname.
“Yeah, congrats, bro.” E snorts. “That’s one injury you didn’t check off when failing to catch her,” he says sarcastically.
“Aww.” JT folds his hands over his heart and flutters his eyelashes. “Don’t knock my catching skills because they’re better than yours, E.”
“Says the cheerleader to the professional football player.”
“Says the person who catches a ball to the one who catches people.”
“Will you two idiots behave?” Bette slaps E on the chest with the back of her hand. “This nice doctor is going to think we surround Kay with animals.”
Across the room, Grayson and CK do their best to smother their laughter while Em and B let their guffaws fly free.
Dr. Nikols shakes her head, but with the way she rolls her lips in as if to hide another smile, you can tell she’s amused by the antics. She writes something on Kay’s chart and turns her attention to Bette, who has moved to hover next to the bed.
“When can we take her home?” Bette asks the question we are all anxious to have the answer to.
“Everything seems to be tracking nicely.” Dr. Nikols closes Kay’s chart. “As long as her vitals remain stable, I don’t see why she couldn’t be discharged tomorrow.”
I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Thank you, doctor.” Bette reaches out to shake her hand.
“You’re very welcome.” She casts a look around the room. “Try to keep it down in here, okay?”
We’re all quick to agree before she takes her leave. We appreciate them turning a blind eye to us breaking their protocols, and there’s no way any of us will risk losing the leeway we’ve been given.
It isn’t long after the doctor’s departure that the door to the room is once again pushed open, bringing the re-arrival of Jordan Donovan with it. Gone is the casual but in charge publicist who spent the middle of the night troubleshooting in a hoodie and leggings. No, this version—the one dressed in straight-legged black leather pants, strappy pointed spike heels, a white silk blouse with a black skinny tie, the knot hanging loosely down by her chest, and a fitted black suit jacket—is the famed PR powerhouse.
“Oh good”—she glances around the room, setting her bag on the floor, not caring about the designer label, and taking a seat on the arm of the couch closest to Kay—“you’re all up.”
“Kind of hard to sleep through people poking and prodding you,” Kay says dryly.
A ghost of a smile forms on Jordan’s lips as she pulls out her trusty iPad. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ll live.”
“You fucking better,” I mutter as I grind my teeth.
Kay groans when she attempts to roll her eyes. “Chill, Caveman.” She lifts her arm, holding out a hand to me. “Come here.”
My eyes narrow at how callously she brushes off what happened to her, like I didn’t spend the most painful, most stressful couple of hours of my existence wondering if she would live.
Blood—fuck, I can’t get the vision of it out of my head. I swear I still feel the sting of every time I begged her to open her eyes without getting a response.
“Mase.” She wiggles her fingers, my feet already closing the distance between us, unable to ignore the plea in her voice.
I weave my fingers between hers and squeeze, probably harder than I should. I whisper an apology while trying to shake off the last of those dark thoughts. It’s hard. My life before Kay came into it pales in comparison to these past few months with her. Who would want to lose that?
Her thumb moves to trace figure eights down the length of mine. Even concussed, she’s still able to read my mood enough to know to soothe me. I lift her hand and kiss the back of it.
“You up for hearing plans A through”—Jordan tilts her head from side to side like she’s trying to calculate something—“H?”
“H?” I ask.