Chapter 41 #2
Niko didn’t have his vehicle because he hitched a ride with August everywhere, but Quinn didn’t want to waste time going back to the rink to pick up the car.
“I’ll drive you,” said Kenneth. “I was going on a dinner break after our meeting anyway.”
Quinn hated the idea of his famous lawyer being stuck in a vehicle with two smelly hockey players, but Kenneth’s way was faster, and it would probably include tinted windows.
“Vancouver is doomed without their star player, so it’s the least I can do while I cheer on Toronto.”
Niko’s mouth curved into a snarl, turning the scar on his lip white. “Is that fucking so? You’re going to say that while I’m standing right here?”
Kenneth shrugged, brushing away Niko’s fury like a wolf facing off with an angry kitten. “Take it as a pre-emptive apology. Now, stop your hissing and let’s go. We need to bring Quinn to the hospital.”
Niko didn’t say anything, but he was scowling as they left the room and followed Kenneth to the elevator.
Nollan leaned into Quinn so he could speak without being overheard. “Just keep taking deep breaths, Quinn. And what was that banter with Niko about? Your lawyer is a badass.”
Quinn had no idea. Kenneth was a lawyer, which meant he was gifted with the ability to get under people’s skin, and it wasn’t like Niko didn’t have a short fuse.
“Just promise you’ll tackle Niko if they start throwing punches,” said Quinn.
And because Nollan was Nollan, he looked thrilled by the order, as if he would love nothing more than to jump into a fight.
Quinn needed a drink and Lorazepam.
“The way we treat ACL injuries is very clear-cut,” said the doctor whose name Quinn was struggling to remember. She seemed like a nice woman, but the only thing he could hear was his rapidly beating heart as he stared at the door August was hidden behind.
“He’s going to rest it for a few weeks to get the swelling down while working with a physiotherapist to strengthen the knee before surgery.
He’ll have to keep it in a brace and walk with crutches because he can’t put weight on the knee.
He will be in pain, but we’ll give him a medication schedule and proper pain management.
If all goes well, he could be looking at returning to the game early next season, but we’ll talk about time frames after the reconstruction. ”
Quinn needed to get them out of the province. Vancouver was cursed—he was sure of it.
“We’ll be leaving for Nova Scotia once he’s discharged,” Quinn told her. “I have a physiotherapist lined up for Eren, but I’m sure he’ll be able to work August into his schedule. Are there any knee surgeons in Halifax you would trust with him?”
Quinn knew he was being curt, but it was hard to voice his current level of exhaustion.
He didn’t care how stupid he was for wanting to leave the province.
He didn’t care if he had to pay Kenneth, the surgeons or the whole Vancouver team to come to Nova Scotia.
All he knew was that he needed to get out of the city and away from the chaos, at least for a little while.
“I know an excellent surgeon in Halifax,” said the doctor.
“I will prepare Mr. Snow’s charts and get in touch with him right away.
We’ll discharge him tomorrow, just so he has time to work some of the pain medication out of his system.
I know you have a lot on your plate, so I’m reluctant to leave him in your care until he’s able to walk on his own. ”
Quinn could have hugged her for her kindness. That meant the nursing staff would be there if August needed anything, and Quinn could make transportation arrangements.
“I’ll get everything ready on my end,” said the doctor. “Take care, Mr. Harlow.”
Quinn looked longingly at the door after she walked away, but he forced himself to turn around and look for his entourage.
Kenneth hadn’t come in with them after he dropped them off, but Niko and Nollan were sitting in the waiting chairs lined up along the wall, and Harrison and Jett Killinger had shown up during his conversation with the doctor.
When Quinn looked at them, they jumped up and came over, their expressions etched with anxiety.
“It looks like his ACL is going to need reconstruction,” said Quinn. “There’s nothing you guys can do, and you have a game tonight—against each other. You should leave so you have time to shake this off, okay? I’ll be cheering for all of you.”
Jett pulled Quinn into a hug that was as warm as sunshine.
“Niko told us about August, and I’m so upset for you guys.
Harrison and I wanted to come and make sure everyone was good, and we figured you would want a key to the lake house just in case the playoffs continue past tonight.
You would have to bus with Eren, right?”
Quinn nodded and drew back from the hug. “No flying for us. I want to stay tonight just in case the Bigfoots win, and then the guys can have a chance to visit Eren and August before we leave tomorrow. I wasn’t expecting to invite my family over early, so I’m sorry for intruding.”
Harrison curled his arm around Jett’s waist, like he instinctively knew Jett was upset.
“There’s no intruding. The house is yours from now until you want to leave.
Jett had a separate guest house built for his dad last year that’s private, but nearby, so we’ll be fine there.
We agreed that you guys should be as close to the rehabilitation building as possible when you started making plans with Jett to visit. ”
That would divide their groups in a way that wasn’t overwhelming, but Quinn still felt awful for taking over the Killinger household.
He had to remind himself that these guys—including everyone in the chat group—were like family now.
He never thought he would find a family bigger than the one he’d built with Eren and Esme, but this cluster of foolish hockey boys kept proving him wrong every single day.
“Thank you—and I mean it,” said Quinn. He wasn’t a huggy person, but he opened his arms anyway and gestured the four of them closer. The hugs were a little too tight, and Harrison, who was almost as tall as August, teased him by lifting him off his feet, but it was nice.
“I’m serious,” Quinn said, jabbing a finger into Niko’s chest. “Go. I’ll take care of him and Eren, and we’ll see you tonight or in a few weeks. If any of you die or get injured, I’ll kill you.”
Nollan and Niko were hesitant to leave, but Harrison swung an arm over each of their shoulders and began guiding them down the hall.
Jett waved one more time and paused before he followed his husband. “I doubt you and August are the nosy type,” he said, handing Quinn a ring of keys. “But just in case, stay away from the locked trunk in the closet. That’s where we keep all the sex toys.”
Quinn pinched his eyes shut and sighed. “Thanks for the heads up, Jett.”
“No problem, boss!” Jett saluted him goodbye and jogged after the other three, who were about to disappear around the corner.
Now that he had a plan and had secured the keys, Quinn felt more confident when he entered August’s room and saw him lying on the bed. It still hurt to see the man he loved wearing a hospital robe with his right leg in a brace, but he steeled his nerves and went to August’s side.
“Quinn…” August lifted his hand to the ceiling, like he was greeting Quinn in the sky. “You were gone for so long. They kept trying to take our sex ribbon off, but I wouldn’t let them.”
Oh. August wasn’t talking to the Quinn in the ceiling; he was showing off the bands of silk still tied to his arm.
“It’s not a sex ribbon,” said Quinn. There was enough space on August’s left side for Quinn to fit next to him, so he carefully got into the bed and put an arm across August’s chest, tucking his head on a broad shoulder. “How are you doing?”
August snorted and lowered his hand, settling it on Quinn’s ass. “I’m high as hell, and my nipples are tingling, but the nurse said that was cool, so I guess I’m great.”
Quinn pressed a hand to his mouth to stop his laughter, but his jerking shoulders gave him away.
“Not funny,” August groaned, squeezing Quinn’s ass in retaliation. “I wanted to have a date with you tonight. I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend, and then I was going to blow you in the restaurant bathroom and win you a cup. In that order.”
Quinn wasn’t sure what other order there was, but it had to be the drugs talking.
“That’s funny,” said Quinn. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“To blow you in the bathroom?” August said, rolling his head to the side and bumping it against Quinn’s. “I’m getting good at it, right? I could seriously cum in my pants just from sucking you off sometimes.”
Quinn’s face burned as he pushed himself up so he could look August in the eyes. “No, I wasn’t going to ask for a blowjob, and yes, you’re getting good at them. But I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend during the date so you could be motivated to kick Jett’s ass tonight.”
August whipped out his ridiculously effective pout, and his hand slid upward to rest on Quinn’s lower back. “You were? Shit…why are we here then? Let’s go to the restaurant so I can say yes.”
Quinn chuckled and cupped August’s face in his hand. The stubble of his playoff beard looked good, even if August complained that he couldn’t grow it long enough. “Just say yes now,” Quinn told him. “The restaurant isn’t a critical part of the equation.”
August nodded and gave him a dopey smile. “Quinn Harlow, will you marry me?”
Pulse stuttering, Quinn dropped his face onto August’s chest to hide how red his cheeks were. “You are so fucking high.”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Shut up.”
They laughed, and Quinn took a moment to breathe in August’s scent. His aftershave was almost gone because of the sweating during practice and being cleaned up at the hospital, but it was there.
Maybe he was having an overreaction to the situation, but he was so happy that August wasn’t seriously hurt, and he was even laughing. Sure, surgery was scary, but it sounded like August would make a full recovery, and Quinn was so grateful that was the worst of it.
He picked himself off August’s chest and looked into his icy-blue eyes, fluttering his lashes in a way he knew would keep the man’s attention. “August Snow, will you be my boyfriend?”
August touched a hand to his chest and then lifted it to press against Quinn’s racing heart.
“I’ve been waiting ten years to answer this question. So, yes, Quinn. Yes.”