Max Creative Distractions
Max
Creative Distractions
Carrying Sadie into the Mage Hollow hospital wasn’t something I imagined this morning when I had hoped to see her. It definitely wasn’t in the plan I had for our "one fun thing" of the day. But sometimes life’s like that, throwing curveballs or oyster knives when you least expect it.
Approaching the desk, Sadie swats at my arm. "Max, can you put me down now? People are staring at us."
"Excuse me, my friend here cut herself, and I think she needs stitches." A nurse who’s probably my mom’s age looks from me to Sadie over the rim of her purple glasses.
"Does she need a wheelchair?" She purses her lips, searching Sadie’s bottom half for the cut.
Sadie holds her hand up. "No, I can walk. He just insists on being a storybook character right now."
The lady rolls her eyes but waves us back as a round of grumbles comes from the waiting room full of people. I guess blood wins out over seasonal allergies today.
"I’m Vera. I’ll get you checked in and pull some vitals. Gretchen will be in to do the rest before Dr. Toccio sees you," the same lady from the desk explains while stepping through double doors and into a small patient room.
I settle Sadie onto the bed, sliding a large maroon chair over toward the side of it and plopping down. Vera takes her blood pressure, checks to see if she has a fever—she doesn’t—and removes the gauze to take a closer look.
I’m not a doctor, but I’ve had enough injuries to assume she needs stitches. The wound is still seeping, but not as badly as it was before.
"Can you tell me your full name?"
"Sadie Marie Wells."
"How did this happen?"
Sadie looks at me and quietly laughs. "He doesn’t know how to shuck an oyster." She points her finger at me, wincing slightly from the movement. "I was trying to teach him."
Vera gives me a once-over, frowning. "And your face? What happened? Do I need to be concerned about the two of you?"
Now, it’s my turn to chuckle. We look like quite the pair: two black eyes and a fresh cut in need of sutures.
"Just an accident, unrelated," I say, waving her off. Vera huffs, turning back to the computer she’s clacking away on.
"Any medical history that I need to be aware of?"
"No, I don’t think so."
"Insurance?"
"Yes, I have it. My card isn’t in this wallet, but I work for the Golden City Flames. I can bring it by this week or call in the number."
"That’s fine. Congratulations on winning the cup."
"Oh, um, thanks. It was great." Sadie glances at me from the corner of her eye. We’ve never discussed where she works, not really outside of the one conversation about her leave of absence. I’m curious what it’s like, how it feels to be a part of something I’ve always dreamed of.
"Are you pregnant?" Vera shifts gears.
Sadie’s cheeks turn red at the question. "No?"
"Is that a question? I’ll need to give you some medication. We need to know if you could be."
The room feels hotter, like maybe I shouldn’t be the one in here for this. But at the same time, my stomach protests the thought of leaving her. I’d rather not think about her sex life, at least not outside of my own fantasies.
"No, I’m not. I’m positive."
Relief floods my senses, and I’m overwhelmed by it. I’ve dated, had hookups, but something about Sadie hits differently. We’re friends, of course, but there’s more to it—a mutual attraction that’s becoming harder to deny. Even when I actively try to stop thinking about her, I can’t.
Vera nods, swings around, and looks us over once again before pushing out of the room.
"So, the Flames?" I attempt to make small talk. Sadie twists the cotton hospital blanket with her good hand. "What’s it like?"
"It’s like any other job, I think." She peeks at me from under her lashes. "Just with people who make millions of dollars. Monte is great when he’s not forcing me to take time off. And the kids I work with are awesome."
Her face lights up as she speaks, and it steals my breath. I have a vague understanding of why she’s on leave, but it feels like a disservice to more than just Sadie. If she’s this happy talking about it, I can only imagine what she feels being there.
"You love it," I say—a statement, not a question.
She beams, the kind of smile that covers her entire face. "I really do. And look, I know it’s kind of pathetic because it’s my one-legged stool, but it’s what I was meant to do—where I’m supposed to be."
"I’m not sure I know what a one-legged stool has to do with it, but I agree. Why did you need to take a leave again?" I reach out, squeezing Sadie’s hand. "You don’t have to explain it all if you don’t want to. I’m just trying to figure out why he’d send you away."
She squeezes my hand back, intertwining our fingers. "It’s complicated. Maybe we could talk—"
"Hello, how’s our patient doing?" A nurse wearing black scrubs asks as she enters alongside the physician.
"I’ve been better, but it’s fine." Sadie holds her hand up, and the doctor's eyes grow comically big.
"Well, you definitely need stitches." The woman in the white coat with sandy brown hair begins rolling up her sleeves.
"Gretchen, please get anesthetic to numb it, a suture kit, and a tetanus shot.
" She turns to Sadie, a sympathetic smile gracing her face. "We’re going to make sure it’s as pain-free as possible before I place a few stitches.
You will need a shot just to be safe. Do you remember when your last one was? "
"No, I’m sorry I don’t. Is that okay? Is it safe to have another one?" Sadie’s grip on my hand tightens, and her chest rises and falls faster than it did before.
Doctor Toccio smiles, and Gretchen scoots a tray filled with supplies over to the bed. "Of course, it’s completely safe."
"Is that the needle? I can’t…" Sadie’s face goes pale, and beads of sweat dot her brow.
"Hey, Sade. Look at me. Talk to me." My heart aches for her. She clearly isn’t a fan of what’s happening here, not that anyone would be. But I can tell her anxiety has reached a boiling point, that she wants to refuse what has to happen.
"I just don’t like needles. How do people get tattoos?
Or donate blood for fun? I could never—it makes no sense.
I tried once, getting a tattoo. I only made it through ten minutes and I begged the guy to stop, and there was one time I donated blood…
passed out before they finished my intake forms." Her rambling is adorable, and my chest flutters with the wings of what feels like a thousand butterflies.
Turning my head toward the doctor, I whisper, "Hey, Doc. How long will it take you to do everything?"
"Ten seconds for the shot to numb it, then maybe three minutes. Are you planning to time me?" Her eyes narrow.
"Nah, just going to try some unconventional methods for distracting her." I wink and give her a small thumbs-up before turning my attention back to my girl. "Sade, can I ask you something?"
She groans but nods anyway. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No. What does that have to do with needles?" She searches my face for an answer, and I can hear the medical staff working behind me.
"Nothing, but I watched an episode of Brown’s Bodies with my mom once, and they said that affection can mimic the same endorphins that you hear about moms using to lift cars and shit."
"The anesthetic is in. Should be numb in just a minute and then we’ll continue," Doctor Toccio declares. I guess my talking is working, as she didn’t even flinch.
"Max! What does that have to do with this situation?"
I turn slightly, glancing at the doctor. She gives me a nod and a wink, which makes me chuckle. I stand from the chair, inch onto the sliver of bed beside her, and run my index finger from her forehead down to her chin.
Leaning in until I’m only a centimeter away, I whisper, "Please don’t punch me in the nose for this."
Sadie tips her chin up, her eyes searching mine for answers.
Instead of giving any, I press my lips to hers, firm compared to her pillow-soft.
She’s stunned, struck so still I’m not sure she’s breathing.
Inching backward, I scan her face for some sort of reaction until Sadie leans forward, wraps her non-injured hand around my neck, and kisses me.
My hand slides to the side of her face, angling her the way I need her, while my brain is misfiring from the unexpected perfection of this kiss—the one I didn’t steal, but she chose.
Chancing it, I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opens for me.
The combination of the brine from the oyster and the wine she was drinking makes the perfect combination of salty and sweet.
A groan releases from my throat at the same time she breathes out a soft moan.
Kissing her is addicting, like our bodies somehow know the steps to a dance that’s just for us.
"Excuse me." The nurse, who I forgot was even in the room, clears her throat. Pressing one more chaste kiss to Sadie’s mouth—and one to her forehead—I pull back and turn to face her.
"We’re basically done. We just need to give her a shot, so you should probably wait outside." She hands me a stack of papers. "I preprinted the paperwork. Care instructions are in there. She’ll be out in a minute."
Looking back at my girl, I see her fingers are pressed to her lips and her cheeks are flushed. She’s gorgeous, hair mussed a little from our kiss.
"Sade, I’ll be right outside." She nods, still dazed. I hope that means she was as affected by that as I was.
Pushing into the hallway, I lean against the opposite wall and pull out my phone. I’m not sure how long we’ve been here, and I need to check on Benny. Nora was supposed to let him out for me, so hopefully I’m not returning to a disaster tonight.
When I slide open my phone, there’s a text message waiting from Coach Perkins.
Perkins: Paperwork’s official. Pack your bags, O’Reilly.
My heart plummets, and my ears ring like a record’s just been scratched.
I knew this was coming, but a part of me still didn’t believe it would happen.
My mind races through all the people I need to tell, the arrangements that will have to be made, and to the woman I just shared the best kiss of my life with—she was always going to leave, but now I’m the one moving a half a world away.
The door to Sadie’s room opens, so I tuck the phone back into my pocket.
"Hey, gorgeous. Do you come here often?"
Sadie rolls her eyes but smiles. "Sure do. I’ve been told I’m potentially deadly to be around. Want to walk me home and take your chances?"
Taking a few steps to close the distance between us, I interlock our hands. "I think you might just be worth it."