Chapter Two #2
I can't figure out why she's still sticking it out, and that drives me nuts. Most of my teammates are self-absorbed assholes. We don't deserve her. But…she still shows up every day anyway.
Her cheeks turn pink again, but this time her gaze is soft when she looks at me. "You're not a mess, Trent."
I raise a brow. "Pretty sure the ER doc would disagree."
He wasn't thrilled when he got the rundown on my medical history. Broken bones, torn ligaments, half-healed injuries I reaggravate every season…yeah, he had thoughts about all of that. He was smart enough not to voice them, however.
Dani shrugs. "None of that is your fault. It's not like anyone who plays a sport sets out to get hurt." She pauses, just a tiny one. "Plus, you're my favorite patient."
My heart does this thing I usually reserve for overtime goals. I bite back the dumbest grin of my life. "Good. Wouldn't want to be replaced by one of the other village idiots."
There's a knock at the door, and Dani leaps up so fast the chair nearly tips over.
The same nurse who gave me drugs steps into the room with my chart in hand, flipping through it before she looks up at me. "Mr. Kirk, you're looking a lot better."
Well, that's good news because my ass still itches like a motherfucker.
"With any luck, you'll be out of here today, but I'd recommend you stick with bland foods for a day or two. And absolutely no bee pollen, honey, or honeycomb. And no herbal supplements until cleared by your doctor. You understand?"
"Whatever it takes to get me the fuck out of here," I agree.
She glances at Dani, a smile twitching at her lips. "Good luck with this one."
Dani flushes. "Thank you."
"We'll come check on him again in a little while." The nurse winks at me. "Try not to get into any more trouble in the meantime, okay? We're short-staffed for the holidays."
As soon as the door closes, Dani sinks back into her chair, relief softening the lines of worry on her face.
"See? Told you I was fine," I mumble.
She just shakes her head at me, but I don't mind. I'm alive. Dani Frost is still talking to me. And if I play my cards right, maybe—just maybe—I can still talk her into being my date tomorrow.
I don't even care if my ass itches the whole goddamn time.
I 'm beginning to consider the merits of throwing a Hulk-sized fit over going home, when another nurse—new, older, and absolutely done with life—marches into the room several hours later.
She's got her ponytail so tight her eyebrows look shocked.
And I'm not entirely convinced she doesn't intend to bash me over the head with the clipboard she's clutching like a weapon.
"All right, Mr. Kirk," she says, her voice sharp. "We're prepping you for discharge, but I'm not letting you out until we make sure you can walk, talk, and pee without incident. Understood?"
She says this last bit while staring directly at my dick. I'm not sure if it's intimidation or hospital policy, but my balls shrivel in response.
"Noted," I say, saluting like this is the military, and she's a drill sergeant.
She slaps a blood pressure cuff onto my arm with the practiced violence of a woman who once played roller derby. As she pumps the bladder, I feel the sudden urge to impress her with my resting heart rate, even though I'm pretty sure the cocktail of drugs they gave me rewired my nervous system.
Dani hovers in the corner with her hands behind her back, pretending she's invisible. As if anyone could ever overlook that kind of perfection.
The nurse gives her a quick up-and-down. "You the girlfriend?"
Dani almost swallows her own tongue. "No!" she practically shouts before grimacing. "I mean—no. Just the, um, team PT."
The nurse raises one eyebrow, her face a mask of skepticism. "Uh-huh. You'll want to keep him off his feet for the next day or so. No strenuous activity. No hockey, no weightlifting." Her gaze flicks to me, her gaze assessing. "No running from your problems or the police."
Jesus Christ. Do I look that fucking bad?
Dani covers her mouth with a hand, undoubtedly hiding a smile.
"Pity," I sigh. "My brother is the police."
The nurse snorts, clearly not finding me funny.
"Can I still wrestle her?" I can't resist asking, pointing at Dani, just to annoy the fuck out of Nurse Ratched.
The old lady doesn't even blink. "She'd flatten you in your current state."
I try to shoot Dani a look that says, "See, even the nurse knows you're a badass," but she's looking anywhere but at me, her cheeks scarlet.
The nurse rips off the cuff before recording the numbers. "Vitals are decent. You're still a little tachycardic, but that'll fade. If you have any shortness of breath, throat swelling, or chest pain, you come back immediately. It could be a rebound reaction. Got it?"
"Loud and clear."
She starts unhooking the IV from my arm, a process that involves a lot more yanking than I'd like. "Discharge instructions will be at the front desk. You'll need a ride, Mr. Kirk. And before you argue, I don't care if you're an Olympic sprinter or Santa Claus, it's hospital policy."
Dani steps up before I can even think of a retort. "I'm driving him home."
The nurse gives her a knowing look. "Of course you are."
She leaves, shutting the door with a level of finality that's honestly intimidating. She should go to work in a goddamn prison.
As soon as we're alone, Dani turns on her professional voice: all business, all the time. "Can you stand without help?"
"I can deadlift you," I say, mostly to see her blush again.
It works. Her skin immediately flushes, her gaze rooted to the floor. But she pulls up the rolling stool and pats the seat like I'm an unruly toddler. "Sit. Let's see if you get dizzy."
I ease out of bed, wincing as every muscle twinges. My entire body feels like it's been scrubbed with steel wool and then painted with menthol. I do not want to sit, or move, or exist, but I'd drag myself to the fucking North Pole naked for five more minutes of her undivided attention.
I make it to the stool without fainting, so she graces me with a tiny smile. "Not so tough now, are you?"
"Still tougher than half of my asshole teammates."
She laughs softly, running her hands over my arms to check for lingering hives. They're mostly gone, but there are a few welts still angry enough to warrant a frown.
"You're not allergic to anything else, are you?" she asks, almost too quietly.
"Not unless you're secretly in love with one of my teammates," I say, and then immediately wish I could take it back.
Too much. Reel it in, Kirk.
But Dani's lips do that thing where they almost smile, like she wants to, but it's against the rules. "You'd tell me if you were?"
"In love with one of my teammates?" I tease.
She rolls her eyes at me. "Allergic to anything else, Trent."
"Yeah, I'd tell you. I'd trust you with all my secrets," I say, meaning it all the way to my damn soul.
She's close enough I can smell her shampoo, something bright and sweet, like green apples and vanilla. I want to bury my nose in her ponytail and never come up for air. Instead, I let her finish her exam, enjoying the hell out of her hands on me, even if it's purely clinical .
When she's satisfied I'm not about to faceplant, she helps me out of the ugly non-slip hospital socks and then grabs the plastic bag they dumped all my shit into.
"You want to put your pants on here or in the bathroom?" she asks, holding the bag out with two fingers.
I shoot her the most exaggerated smirk I can manage. "You afraid of what you might see?"
She rolls her eyes. "It's nothing I haven't seen before. You guys love walking around the facility naked."
She's not wrong. My asshole teammates do wander around bare-ass naked a lot.
But this is different because she's never seen me naked.
I knew better than to let that happen. Hiding an erection under clothes is one thing.
Hiding the motherfucker when he's standing straight up and staring her in the face is another.
I have her turn and then slip into my pants fast, if only to prove I can do it without passing out. I leave the hospital gown in place since I have no shirt, and it's freezing out.
She hovers a step away the whole time, her eyes fixed on the door like she expects the nurse to barge in at any moment and catch us in the middle of some kind of kinky scene.
I finish tying my shoes and stretch experimentally. No dizziness. No trouble breathing. A win, by all accounts…except for the fact that my skin still feels like it's on fire and my brain is approximately three steps be hind my mouth.
We walk the hallway together, Dani's hand hovering at my back, not quite touching, but I can feel the heat of her anyway. She checks the discharge papers, reading every word, and I catch her lips moving as she silently recites the warnings to herself.
I don't think she realizes she does it. I do, because I've spent the last three months memorizing every single one of her quirks. Hell, I've spent them memorizing every little thing about her.
I'm not even sure obsessed is the word for it, at this point. It's whatever comes after that.
We reach the exit, and she glances at me, uncertainty flickering across her angelic face. "You okay to make it to the car?"
"I'm okay as long as you don't make me eat any more of your death fudge," I joke, but then regret it because her face falls just a little.
"Hey," I say, pausing before the glass doors. "I'm just kidding. I'm fine. You didn't do anything wrong. And if I have to choose, I'd rather die eating your fudge than live without it."
She snorts. "You are so full of shit."
"Maybe," I admit, "but you like me anyway."
That finally gets a real smile out of her, and I feel like I've just scored from center ice.
She takes a deep breath, then gestures to the parking lot. "Let's get you home before I have to carry you. "
I follow her out into the frigid night, my mind spinning with plans.
Dani Frost. Alone. At my place.
This has potential.
B y the time Dani unlocks her car, my eyelids are drooping and my skin is half-crawling off my body, but my brain is wired like I mainlined espresso.
The air outside is subzero, sharp enough to freeze my thoughts mid-sentence, but I let it hit my face, hoping it keeps me functioning a little longer.
I need to be sharp if I'm going to wrangle her into my bed.
She guides me into the passenger seat, cranking the heater before she even buckles herself in. The car smells like her: apples, vanilla, maybe a little lemon-scented Lysol like she uses on the PT tables.
"Seatbelt," she says, her voice firm.
I buckle up, then side-eye her with what I hope is a devastatingly wounded expression. "So what's the plan? You dropping me at home and letting me die all alone?"
She's so busy checking the rearview, she doesn't even see my dramatic expression. "I was planning on getting you home, setting you up with water and Gatorade, and then calling your brother to come babysit you."
I try to look offended, which is tough when I'm smiling like an idiot. "Noah is just going to put me on speakerphone and lecture me while eating donuts. He's working a case."
He's a homicide detective for Chicago PD. He's always working a case.
She pulls out of the parking lot with the silent, grim determination of a woman who's seen too many men fail to follow basic aftercare instructions.
"You should stay with me," I suggest, casual as can be.
Her eyes snap to mine, wide and startled, before she recovers. "You're high as a kite."
"Not that high. Besides, I'm not supposed to be alone, right? What if I go into shock? What if I can't reach my phone? What if I accidentally eat more fudge?"
She snorts, but she can't hide her smile. "You're impossible."
I want to tell her that I'm desperate because she's the best thing that's ever happened to me, but I also don't want to scare her off. She's skittish as hell…and she has no idea that I'm fucking head over heels for her. I should ease her into it, right?
Shit, probably.
I don't want to do that, though. Now that I've finally gotten her outside the training facility, I want to rush right to the good parts where she's in my arms and everything is right with the world for once.
"That's not a no," I point out instead, and then press my luck.
"Come on. I'll be the world's easiest patient.
Just put me on the couch and queue up Netflix.
I'll be out like a light in thirty minutes.
You don't even have to talk to me. Or you could talk the whole time, if you want. Honestly, your choice."
She's gripping the wheel with both hands, eyes laser-locked on the icy road, but her cheeks are bright enough to set off a road flare.
"I can call Liz," she suggests, but she's caving. I know she is.
I shake my head, letting it loll against the window for maximum effect.
Desperate times and all that. I need this woman in my house.
In my space. Preferably in my bed. "Liz isn't the one who tried to kill me.
That was all you, Sunshine. Do you want the whole team to know you just abandoned me to fend for myself? "
"Are you trying to blackmail me, Trent Kirk?"
"Depends. Is it working, or should I try harder?"
Her lips press together in a heroic struggle not to laugh. "Fine," she says at last, tone pure martyr. "I'll stay with you. But if you so much as breathe funny, I'm calling 911."
I raise both hands in mock surrender, feeling triumphant. It's weird to be this happy while my immune system is trying to forcefully evict me from my own damn body, but fuck it. I am happy. Dani is spending the night at my place.
Christmas miracles really do exist.