Chapter Nine #2
“Badass,” I mutter with a pained smile, drawing laughter from the men around me once more.
Even Baxter finally relaxes, a tatted hand roaming over his neat beard in a poor attempt to hide his amused smile from me.
Caiden has no such qualms, the asshole laughing along with everyone else, his thumb stroking the skin on my hand gently.
It almost distracts me from the ice thawing under my ass, but not quite. Clearing my throat, I finally ask, “Think I can get off the ice now that I’m mortally wounded? My ass is growing numb, and the backs of my legs are soaked.”
“You heard the girl. Get her off the ice, and get to practice,” Mack shouts, clapping his hands loudly enough that I wince again, just as Caiden stands steadily and scoops me into his arms before I can squeak.
With careful shuffles, he glides over to the opening in the boards, ready to haul me off the ice, but not before Morgan presses a kiss to my uninjured temple while he laughs, muttering, “See you soon, dumbass.”
I roll my eyes, but then I smile when Lawson scratches the top of my head with his glove before disappearing after my cousin.
The last to leave is Oscar, who hands the towel over carefully to Caiden to keep pressed against my head, knocking his fist gently under my chin with a sweet, “Hope it heals up nice, firecracker.”
I’m smiling by the time Caiden sits on the bench near the DJ deck where my things are, placing me directly onto his lap while he dabs and tends to my self-inflicted cut.
Baxter isn’t too far behind, bulging arms crossed, tattoos highlighted over tan skin as they sink beneath the tight shirt he wears.
His hair is pulled into a messy man bun, and I resent the hair tie for keeping those strands hostage.
Dark sea-blue eyes watch me carefully before he asks, “This happen often? Because not one of them looked anywhere near as concerned as they should have been.”
I snort, shaking my head. “I was trouble with a capital T when I was a kid. Injuries galore. We’ve learned to move on quickly when I start cracking jokes. That’s not to say they weren’t worried, but they know to get on with their day if I’m responsive and alert.”
“Jesus, Blue. How often were you injured as a kid?” Caiden snickers, pressing the towel more firmly to my eyebrow.
Wincing, I confess, “More often than I’d like to admit out loud. I’ve grown out of the clumsy stage, but I still have my moments. This moment, however, is all Uncle Mack’s fault.”
I shoot the man in question a glare, one that he blatantly avoids after snapping his eyes away as though he’d been caught staring at something he shouldn’t have. If he hadn’t opened his damned trap, I’d still be skating circles around my favorite hockey team by now.
“So… Mack Brady. I didn’t know he had a niece,” Caiden comments, lifting the towel, only to replace it when I feel a dribble of blood slip from the slice.
With a nod against his hand, I say, “Not many people do. For the most part, I was kept out of the limelight. People often forget my parents had me, since they’re Hollywood royalty.
Not that I mind. I prefer life behind the camera as opposed to in front of it, despite having to sit pretty for photographs every now and then.
Paparazzi aren’t my thing, and my parents knew that from early on.
I only attend major events with them if they ask, meaning my name isn’t as big in Hollywood.
Sure, people have heard of me, but it’s not like I’m stopped in the middle of the street for autographs and such.
Uncle Mack is pretty private about his life, too, so he worked just as hard to keep me out of the press and shit.
Even fewer people know that Morgan and I are cousins. ”
Both guys nod at my explanation, and I sigh as I relax against Caiden, since he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to release me despite the wet material that uncomfortably clings to my legs and ass.
Plus, he’s already seen me at my lowest. Leaning on him after taking a swift smack to the head from a hockey stick doesn’t seem all that troubling in the grand scheme of things.
“Looks like the bleeding is slowing down,” Caid mumbles under his breath after the next check of my wound, a breath of relief escaping when blood doesn’t spill down my face again. “Pretty sure that’s going to need stitches, though.”
“Sick,” I drawl, nodding like I’m totally okay with receiving another scar. I mean, what’s one more among the many I’ve received over the years? Sure, this one is above my eyebrow, but I’m going to look all femininely rugged and badass. Who doesn’t want that?
Baxter snorts and shakes his head before he reaches for my things on the bench, retrieving the keys to my baby, my cell, and my sweatpants and hat. When he turns to Caiden, he asks, “You driving her to the hospital, or am I?”
“Hospital?” I blurt, eyes widening.
At the same time, Caiden shrugs and answers, “I’m easy.”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” I hurry to say, shaking my head awkwardly, the towel slipping off my forehead only slightly. It’s enough to make me groan in pain when the soft material rubs harshly against the cut, a small drop of blood spilling when it opens at the slightest touch.
“What’s wrong with the hospital?” Caiden wonders, looking me over.
My eyes are still wide, and I shudder as I sort of explain, “I know someone there, and I’d much rather face the human embodiment of a fart than face him.”
Both men watch me intently, but I stand my ground.
I’ll die before I willingly go to the hospital, risking an encounter with Tobe the Chode.
That fuck-knuckle will be up my ass in seconds the moment he hears that I’m there.
Since he’s one of three physical therapists, he’ll have the time to Velcro himself to me.
I won’t be able to escape the pleading and begging for forgiveness.
The horror I feel must be visible on my face, because Baxter coughs over a laugh and sends Caiden a look before offering, “Rayne could stitch her up. He won’t be in work yet.”
Caiden looks my face over once more before nodding slowly, narrowing his eyes on me. “Good call. Let’s take Little Miss Klutz home. She can explain why the fuck she’s scared to go to the hospital on the drive home.”
“Oh, great,” I moan, slumping against the bastard, taking the towel from him with a huff now that I’m going to have to explain my history with that thunder-fuck I call an ex.
Because if there’s one thing that’s evident by now, it’s that Caiden won’t let it drop until he hears every single juicy morsel of gossip.
I really hate my best friends.