Page 105 of Pucking Them
Shay glances between the men, as if he’s about to jump up and intervene.
Except, I’m pretty sure that I know what Michael is worried about.
Michael quirks his brow, making it clear that between Cody and him,he’sthe Daddy. “What are you doing hiding injuries?”
I fucking knew it.
Next to me, Shay jolts. “Darlin’, what’s he talking about?”
I can sense the fear trembling through Shay.
The dom brow lift doesn’t work on D’Angelo. I’m pretty certain that he invented it.
“You know that I was hurt during practice, Shay. You were there,” D’Angelo replies.
“But not badly enough that Mike should be able to tell.” Shay pulls away from me, struggling around Neve and out of the booth as well. “You told me that you didn’t need an ice bath or help putting on arnica.”
“Don’t give away all my secrets,” D’Angelo mutters.
“We promised that we weren’t going to have secrets from each other.” Shay’s expression closes off with hurt.
D’Angelo flinches.
“Honesty.” My voice steels. “The number one rule, remember?”
“Can’t you trust me?” D’Angelo backs away. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Neve snorts. “Why should she? You ghosted RH for years. You hold onto the control, never fully letting her in. Look how you kept whole parts of yourself — your friends — secret from her for months.”
I wince.
Neve is my defender. She is like having a bodyguard who will savage anyone who hurts me and then offer to bury them behind her bar.
Except, I do trust D’Angelo.
I’m terrified about what, orwho,has made him feel like he has to hide something from me.
“You mean like you do with Lucy?” D’Angelo bites back.
“That just makes us both assholes.”
“I spent my life doing that with my sis,” Cody says. “But it never worked out with Dad. Look, I don’t know why you’re trying to hide how hurt you are. I understand.” His guilty gaze slides to Michael. “I do the same. But you have a literal doctor telling you that he should check you over. How about allowing Mike to do his job before the rest of us become ill with worry, yeah?”
D’Angelo looks away. “It’s nothing.”
“Oh, good. My eight years of study were a worthwhile use of my time then.” Michael sighs. “As much as I trust your self-evaluation, why don’t I drive you to the hospital and…?”
D’Angelo shakes his head.
“Please,” I say, softly.
D’Angelo clenches his jaw. “It’s nothing. A few bruises. I truly didn’t lie about that, principessa. How about if you check me over in the restroom, Mike?”
“I’ve won the lottery tonight.”
“We both have. Then you can tell everybody that I’m not dying and I won’t have spoiled the evening.”
Michael nods.
