Chapter 22
DR. COACH
GREY
"Fuck!" I shout, throwing off my mask in horror as I watch Molly crumple to the ground. "Fuck! Oh my God--Molly!" She's limp in my arms, out cold, draped across my lap awkwardly.
Shelby gets to me first. "Oh my god, she leaned right in front of it! Jesus!"
"Molly." My heart is pounding. I grab her chin, pat her cheek. "Molly, wake up." Nothing. "Fuck." My head snaps up to find the team hovering, panicked. "Call an ambulance!" I'm checking her pulse when her eyes blink open, and she squints up at me.
"Did I get on base?" she asks like she's half asleep, and a tight laugh bursts out of me. The wash of relief is so intense, it's dizzying. I close my eyes and clutch her to me for a second. Just a second.
She's made no move to sit, and I don't move her while I check her pupils by shielding her eyes against the field lights. "You scared the shit out of me, peaches. What's your name?"
"Miss Molly bo-bolly Lane. And you are Coach Greyson Brooks McHotbooty, Wolf Daddy, Esquire."
The team howls. I don't even care. "What day is it?"
"Friday, day of the peaches! Slutty, slutty peaches." She giggles, and I don't ask more questions for fear she'll out us.
"Still want that ambulance, Coach?" Luis asks.
I study Molly as she sits up wobbling a little. I've seen a lot of concussions, and this is definitely one. "Molly, what's two plus three."
"Five," she answers, rubbing her ear. "My ear is ringing."
"That's because you have a concussion.
She turns to my voice, wide eyed and…smiling? "My first concussion!"
Again I laugh, shaking my head, the mixture of relief and adrenaline shredding my chest.
"I don't think we need an ambulance, but she might need to go to the hospital. Molly," Her eyes finally open all the way. "What's six times two."
"Twelve."
"Do you feel sick? Nauseated?"
"No, just a little…disoriented? I think I'm okay."
Cass and I share a look.
"Do you want to go to the hospital?" I ask her.
"Do you think I should go?" she asks, trusting me implicitly, as always.
My chest aches. Again I assess her. Her pupils are the same size, she's not nauseated or vomiting, she's coherent. "It's not serious, I don't think--but. B you should go in just in case."
Instantly her chin flexes, and tears spring to her eyes. "Are you sure? I…I have a deductible, like more than a thousand dollars, and they'll probably do scans, and I…are you sure?"
Goddammit she's going to cry because she can't afford a brain scan.
This is so fucked. I should just pay for it.
But she wouldn't let me without paying me back, and who knows what that would involve now that I'm fingering her on her kitchen table.
I tell myself I'm trained well enough to keep an eye on her, that I'm the most qualified to do it--not Cass or anybody else.
Me. But the truth I only brush up against is that after tonight, I can't leave her alone when she's hurt.
I've broken so many rules already. What's one more?
So like an asshole, I shake my head. "I don't think you're in danger, but I'm not letting you out of my sight for twenty-four hours. I'll keep an eye on you. But if I see any signs, we're going in. We can figure the money out later if we have to. Deal?"
The relief on her face feels like some kind of heaven. "Thank you. Yes, deal."
I turn to the team. "I'll drive her home, make sure she's okay. Y'all head home--get ready for the game next week. I'll tend to her," I promise them. "I know what to look for. Don't worry--I won't leave her until I know she's all right."
They nod and disperse, leaving me with Cass. The look she's giving me is amused, thick with Yeah, right, and leaves me glad nobody else is around. "You're gonna stay with her. For medical reasons."
"Why else, Cass?"
She shrugs. "Oh, no reason. No reason at all."
I roll my eyes, helping Molly stand. When I pick up her helmet, my eyes widen. It's cracked in a fine web where the ball hit it. I didn't think Shelby even threw it that hard.
"Gee, whiz," she breathes, touching the cracks. "I think I leaned in a little too far."
"You think?" I tease.
Cass takes her hand. "Coach is going to get you home, make sure you're all right."
Molly's brow arches. "I can still hear, you know."
Cass chuckles. "Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Don't worry. I've got her."
"Yeah, I bet you do, McHotbooty. Text me, Molly--kay?"
Molly winks, clicking her tongue and shooting a finger gun at Cass. We head for the dugout where I sit her on the bench, hand her an emergency ice pack, and tell her to stay while I help Shelby clean up.
She's flustered, brow furrowed, shoving things haphazardly into equipment bags. "Is she okay, Grey? I am so sorry."
"It wasn't your fault."
"I know, but--"
I cup her shoulder, stilling her. "It wasn't your fault. She put her body where it was after you threw the ball. There was nothing you could have done. And she's fine."
Shelby exhales, her shoulders relaxing a hair, but her face is still pinched with worry. "Okay. Will you let me know how she's doing?"
"I'll text you."
She nods. "I've got all this. Get her home."
"All right. Thanks."
I still feel a little dizzy from the whole thing, I notice as I make my way back to Molly.
"Come on, peaches. Time to go home."
"I have a headache."
"I'm sure you do." I help her up and we head for my truck. Selfishly, I appreciate having a reason to have my arm around her. Her head is resting on my chest. I wish her arm was around my waist. Always wanting more.
"Wait, what about my car?"
"We'll deal with it tomorrow." I put her in the truck, shut the door. Find myself hurrying around to the driver's side so I can climb in with her, anxious to get her horizontal for all new reasons. "You okay?" I ask as I start the engine.
"Yeah." She pauses, watches me as we back out and head for her place. "Thank you. For taking care of me."
"Always."
"I…" She starts but closes her mouth and looks out the window.
"What?" I ask gently.
"I just feel silly, that's all. I…" She takes a deep breath.
And then she spills, the words tumbling out of her.
"I don't know what happened, but when I got here and I saw you and you were so…
you didn't even look at me." My chest splits open as she rambles.
"And, I don't know. It was weird and confusing, and I know this isn't a thing.
Like, I know we aren't together, or whatever.
I think it was because we'd just come from my house and we were kissing and I…
you fucked that peach with your fingers, and I learned by pussy can sweat and then you made me come on my table and didn't even look at me when I got here.
" She finally takes a breath, and I find I have too much to say, particularly about her pussy. But I leave all that where it is.
"Do you think that was easy for me?" I ask gently.
I feel her looking at me and glance over, hoping she sees the torture in my eyes.
"I didn't look at you because if I did, I was gonna blow our cover.
Immediately. I don't know how to be around you in front of everybody, not when all I can think about is your pussy sweat. "
She barks a laugh, then winces. "Oh my god."
I reach across the console, extending my hand, the satisfying feeling when she takes it overwhelming. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry. I promised I'd be a good girl and keep my cool and I didn't."
Oof, I want to tell her exactly what a good girl she is. Instead, I say, "You're doing everything right. I've had more practice than you, and I suck at it."
She laughs, our fingers twining together. So casual. No feelings. None whatsoever.
Bull fucking shit.
"Well, anyway, I'm sorry I'm making you break your sleepover rule."
"I told you I don't mind. The rule was never about what I want to do."
"So…do you have to like…make sure I don't fall asleep? Find a way to keep me awake? Because I can think of a couple of ways that might work. I have so many lessons to learn."
I shoot a smirk at her. "You really feel up to that?"
"Yup."
"You mean to tell me that you want that lesson to be now? With your head hurting and you being tired and dizzy?"
She makes a face and sighs. "Ugh. Fine."
"Tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it. I promise." Against my judgment, I bring the back of her hand to my lips. So, so casually.
When we get to the house and I get her inside, I make sure she's got fresh ice and some ibuprofen before we pack onto the couch to watch movies, even Scout, who's curled up in her lap.
Molly doesn't make it an hour before she's nodding off.
So I click off the TV. Ignore her protests and promises she's fine.
I wait while she brushes her teeth and washes her face, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom.
Such a simple thing. An easy thing. A moment in her day, just like any other day.
But I watch every step, soaking up every detail.
The fuzzy headband she uses to hold her hair back.
The shiny potions and lotions she slathers on her pretty cheeks.
The way she sounds when she tries to talk to me with her toothbrush in her mouth. Easy. Simple.
Nothing else between us is. It's getting more complicated by the day. And like the selfish bastard I am, I can't help myself.
For all my years on this earth, I have rarely indulged myself, not only in what I want, but what I let myself have. This? This is a first. And the most dangerous. But I can't stop. I can't walk away. Even the thought of it is a slice down my sternum, hot and painful.
After all my protestation, all the conversations about casual, about her not catching feels when I'm in just as much danger. Maybe more.
Goddamn, I'm way past trouble.
And yet, here I am, walking her to her room, once again in a position I shouldn't have put myself in. Anyone could have stayed with her. Cass would have in a heartbeat.
There was no way it was gonna be anyone but me.
I only have one defense left tonight, and I beg myself to stand behind it.
I pull back her covers, waiting for her to get in bed. But she folds her arms and pins me with a look, knowing I don't plan to stay in here with her.
"You can't sleep out there," she insists.
"Why not? I have before."
"It's different now."
"How so?"
"In the way that my boob has been in your mouth and your hand has a summer home down my shorts."
I snort. "I can't sleep in here, Molly."
"Please?"
"It's a bad idea."
"I think we can handle sleeping in a bed together."
"Funny you think I'm worried about you." I look at her full-sized bed and then back at her. "That's almost as small as the couch."
"Grey."
"Molly."
"Is this because I freaked out earlier?"
"No," I answer honestly. The truth is that I'm the problem.
"Because I still agree to all the rules."
"One of them is that we don't spend the night together."
"This is a special circumstance. I'll sleep better knowing you're close. And if something happens, you'll be right here."
She knew just what to fucking say. I sigh, run a hand through my hair.
Knowing I've caved, Molly smiles, bouncing a little, then wincing at the motion. "Good. Now I will get in bed."
I watch her slide into the covers like something sacred. She takes off her glasses, then pats the bed next to her.
"Come on. I won't bite."
I chuff, moving for the far side of the bed with my heart hammering, pulling off my shirt on the way. "Maybe I will." I hesitate, looking down at my sweats, which are covered in dirt. With a look of warning to drive my point home, I say, "I'm taking my pants off."
She flushes, laughing and swinging her hand like she's throwing a lasso. "Take it off, woo! Coach booty!"
I shake my head, my ego effectively fluffed, coming to full attention when I drop my pants, and she stills.
"Jesus, Grey," she breathes.
I give her the look again, but I'm smirking a little. "Still sure you want me in here?"
"Are you kidding? What's the hold up?"
I'm making noises that are a mix of grumbling, chuckling, and groaning as I get in the tiny bed with her, careful not to touch her. So much so, that my shoulder is hanging off the bed. She clicks off the light, and I stare at the ceiling wondering how the fuck I'm going to get any sleep.
"Grey?" she says quietly.
"Yeah?" I look over at her, finding her on her side, peering at me from her pillow, her silky hair spilling across it.
"Please don't make me sleep here all night without being able to touch you. I get it. Casual. No strings. But don't torture me., Grey"
Her eyes are big and dark, her face so sweet, so pretty. But it's the knowledge that it's just as hard for her as it is for me sledgehammers what's left of my defenses.
I sigh. "C'mere," I rasp, reaching for her.
She curls into me with a sigh of her own, melting as I gather her up, holding her to my chest with my hand at the small of her back.
Our legs twine together. Nothing is overt, just the press of her against my chest, her head tucked under my chin.
The sound of her easy breath, the warmth of it kissing my skin.
She softens with every second, her breathing slower, slower as my heart hammers harder, faster.
And I know in my bones that this is a mistake.
A beautiful, perfect mistake.