Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Breslin POV
M y head split open. A crack started at a point in the middle of my brain, and moved to a point behind my eyes. I groaned. My hand found a lump on my forehead. Maybe it was where the brain split reached the surface of my skin. My body ached, desperate to move. What was left of my head shot back that moving would spill brain matter we couldn't afford to lose.
Other bodily needs made their objections known. And still the world throbbed.
“You're alive,” an unpleasant voice rung out in the dimness.
“Yeah. Guess so.”
“Thought you were trying to die.”
Jimenez. I grumbled. “I think death hurts less. What the fuck did I drink?”
“Oh no, pendejo. You got drunk to be sure, but then you decided to get in a fight with a mechanical bull. You've been a full-time job ever since.”
The ceiling blurred. I tried to push myself upright. “Where the hell am I?”
“Reporter Chica's bedroom.”
I fell back against the pillow. How did this happen? Why can't I remember? Wait, is she naked? I lifted the covers and glanced around the room.
“Probably not how you wanted to get here.”
“ She should be here, not your ugly ass.” I seethed as my brain throbbed that much harder.
A low chuckle. “I knew there was a human in there. You hide it well.”
“Rumors like that'll ruin my Storm Cooper image.” I touched the heated knot on my forehead.
Jimenez threw his head back and laughed.
“Get me outta here before Milline comes back.” I managed to make it upright, but my head screamed in protest. “I don't need to be one of her headlines. Dammit. Why her? Why here?”
“You weren't so unhappy about it earlier today. I got a picture for you to remember the occasion.”
“What?” I held my head in my hands. This wasn't right. Something was wrong with me. I shouldn't hurt this bad, should I?
He held up his phone with a picture of a parallel universe—in which I was on my knees, holding Milline's hand. Staring up at her like she was my whole world. “I was drunk out of my mind.”
“Will it be a long engagement?”
“I'm going to feed you your phone. Delete that shit.”
“She looked a little ruffled, too. I know as little boys, we tormented the girls we liked, but we're supposed to be men, now.”
“Delete it.” I groaned. “She's a pain in my ass.”
“Give me a break, man. Or let me know when you're going to grow a pair and start being a man. This tortured victim shit doesn't work for being a guy I want to call 'teammate'.”
I pressed my eyes closed as he continued.
“I've tried to have patience for you being younger than me.”
He’s trying to have patience with me? I wasn't sure if he actually had a second head on top of that thick neck of his, or maybe my brain was finally leaking out of the widening crack in my skull.
His hands gripped my shoulders. A dimmer version of the world came back into focus.
“I'm going to get Hilda. You sit. And if I see Liv, I'll suggest she sit on your lap to help you stay put.”
For some reason, I sat. And then I guess my highly suggestible cracked brain decided to consider having Milline in my lap. But I didn't want her sitting with that nice ass of hers settled against the front of my jeans. No, she should definitely sit with those long legs straddling my waist, and?—
I shook the image of those eyes alight with desire, and that smart mouth pressed against mine . . .
Light pierced my brain matter like something stabbing me through the eye. I clutched my head and tried to press the pieces of my skull back together. My knees protested as soon as they hit the floor. I gasped for breath. Turn it off. Whatever it is. I can't see . . .
I slumped further, my body heavy, lights blinding. A soft voice, a gasp and then her face. She kept me upright. Her arms around me, my body not under my control. My head weighed too much to lift.
“Hilda, please. What can we do?”
“Take him to the hospital.”
A weak protest didn't make it past my lips. I hated hospitals. Please don't take me there.
Her eyes met mine. “I'm sorry.”
A gentle hum pulled me from a dark place. The world rumbled. I sat up. In a seat. With glass under my head. It vibrated and jarred my brain from sleep. A groan tore from my lips as I tried to steady the world around me.
Milline sat beside me. In a car. I frowned. Hers? What the hell was going on? Where was she taking me?
“We'll be there in about three more minutes.”
“Where?”
“Emergency care. You have a concussion.”
I swallowed and closed my eyes. The world inside the blackness was cold. It reminded me of the emptiness that swallowed my mother's life whole.
Her hand on my cheek. I covered it with mine. A soft, glassy look in her eyes. “I remember when your tiny fists could barely fit around my finger.”
Don't go there. Don't think. It hurts.
“You'll be. A good man, Breslin. Don't get lost in . . . your dreams.”
What did that even mean? I couldn't tell if she was lucid, then. Or dreaming, herself.
The car pulled to a stop. I opened the door, but couldn't get out of the seat. She leaned over me, unbuckling me from the restraint. A floral scent wafted into my consciousness. I shivered, but her warmth caught me around the ribs. I tried to stand, and she steadied me. The car door clicked shut.
And then we moved. She matched my stride, I leaned too much, but she didn't even miss a beat. The world blurred and changed when I opened my eyes. Strips and stripes of the evening faded as the splitting headache, the swollen lump on my forehead . . . finally subsided.
Her holding ice on my temple. Answering questions I didn't have answers to. Sitting beside me whenever I could wedge my eyes open.
Doctors in and out, tests of my reflexes. Follow the light . . .
At some point, Coach Eberhardt showed up. By then my brain felt a little less like it was going to remain a throbbing, smushy pin cushion covering the outside of my skull. I was a bit more alert and comprehending my circumstances. Not that I want to. Can I go back to being clueless?
I, an underaged college student, had gotten drunk . . . in a bar. Headbutted a mechanical bull like the biggest moron on two big dumb feet. The fact that I was serving probation under local sheriff oversight further demonstrated what an imbecile I've been. And probably why Deputy Reegan was standing in the corner of my hospital room.
How long have I been like this? Sleepwalking through a dimly lit hallway, directionless? Drifting . . .
“What were you thinking, Olivia? You should have taken him straight here, two days ago.” Coach's voice filtered through the cracked open doorway.
“I thought he just bumped his head. You know.”
“No, I can't say I have any idea what was running through that head. But you do know how important this stuff is to the university.”
The doctor came back into the exam room. He glared daggers at me with his eyes. “I'm going to numb this up. If you have anything to tell?—”
“He doesn't.” Milline's head popped in. She met my gaze and shook her head.
“I was asking him.” The doctor replied. Reegan crossed his arms.
“You stay out of this.” Eberhardt reached for the door, pulling it closed. “You're in enough hot water.”
Her foot caught in the door and she pushed it open again. “Don't let them railroad your player. They're trying to trap him into admitting something that's not true. He’s disoriented and doesn’t remember much because of the concussion. That's it, that's all. I was there .” She turned and looked at the deputy. He didn't even blink.
“That your official statement?” Reegan glanced at me.
“She was there. I can't really remember much.” The second part was true, the first part . . . I'd just try not to think too hard.
“My official statement is Breslin was tripped by some rando jerkfaced dude who was trying to pick a fight. Rival team, maybe? I dunno what his deal was because he disappeared as soon as he realized blood was involved. I was with Breslin the whole time, he wasn't drinking. It was assault.”
And I figured most of that was a lie, but she had some ability to seem . . . indignant about it all?
Coach cast a suspicious glance at me. Arms crossed over his chest, he lifted an eyebrow, then shook his head. But before I could say a word, a cold alcohol swab burned against my skin. A prick of a needle and the doctor fanned the air.
Pressure, tugging, the scowling doctor bent forward as he restitched my wound. “Sit up.”
I obeyed. And caught sight of Coach and Deputy Reegan—huddling around Milline in the hallway. She did a lot of shrugging and huffing. I caught her looking at me . . . a few times.
“Your girlfriend is a force of nature.” The doctor shook his head and peeled off his gloves.
My what now? I snapped my mouth shut before I contradicted the man or anything she had told them.
“I don't buy that story she's spinning. But can't disprove it either. My guess, having two adult children of my own, is that there's just enough truth to it.” He sighed and stood up. “But if you learn something out of this, turn whatever mess around. Let this be your wakeup call, son. I don't want to see you in here for something like this again.”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, sir.”
“And if I never have to deal with her again? It'll be too soon.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “You sure you know what you're doing?”
“Me? With her?”
The doctor's mouth twisted. “She reminds me of my daughter. Just . . . mine always took it easy on her poor dad, I guess.” An amused huff. “I doubt you deserve her.”
My brain ached. I didn't know words. Any words.
“Fix it. Do better.”
And then he was gone.
Before the door closed, she slipped inside. My tongue felt like a thick heavy lump in my mouth.
“You were with me,” she said and took in a deep breath. “All night, uh, weekend . . . nights.”
I stared down at her from my perch on the edge of the exam table. Four blue-green eyes met my gaze. “Seems . . . unlikely?” If I'd forgotten that , someone should just put me out of my misery.
Her mouth turned down on one side. “They don't know that.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“They'll think I made bad decisions for love. Blah blah. And maybe not get me fired from being the team reporter.” She turned an interesting shade of pink.
Heat flared and settled at the lowest point of my abdomen. I leaned closer. “Maybe you should tell me about what we did . . . all night. Together.”
Her eyes widened and her complexion went full-on red. I couldn't help but remember her and her see-through shirt . . .
She shoved my shoulder and hissed. “It starts with I didn't strangle you. And ends with you don't wreck your probation due to underaged drinking.”
I groaned.
“But, if you give me about twenty more minutes, I'm pretty sure I can charm your RBF deputy sheriff into helping you get more time to do your community service hours.” She gave me a sidelong glance that was equal parts mischievous, sexy, and concerning . . . and sexy.
“How?”
She shrugged but that little smirky mouth of hers . . . “I'm either a force of nature or cut throat and uncooperative.” She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling and squinted. “Or whatever the opposite of collaborative is?”
“I'm beginning to see that.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. A smile worked its way onto her lips as warm fizzy bubbles floated into my chest. I think I smiled back.
A noise at the door. The handle moved. She surged forward, throwing her arms around my neck—and seized my lips into a searing kiss.
And I'm not entirely sure I didn't black out again.