Page 75 of Chasing Hope

By the time we make it to the couch, I’ve surmised that whatever happened is worse than it seems. His body is locked up tight as he tries to hide the pain.

“What did Stacey recommend?” I ask, referring to the team physiotherapist. “I hope she chewed your ass out for mucking around with the guys.”

She’s heaven-sent. When my brother has been injured in the past, she’s made all the right calls on recovery.

Matteo slowly drops onto the couch, wincing. “No training for three days, but it’s just bad bruising so I should be fine for our hike tomorrow. And yes, you’ll be happy to know she had a stern talking with me.”

“Like hell are you hiking tomorrow.”

His eyes snap to mine, blazing. “I promised you we would go hiking. We’re going hiking.”

It feels good to be looking down at him for once instead of having a kink in my neck from tipping it backward. “Are you insane? We can hike anytime. We can go in two days when you’re better!”

“But I promised. I keep my word, Evie.”

“Ooh, you’re using my first name,” I tease. “This is serious.”

His eyes lock on mine, his forest burning like an inferno. “Keeping my word means everything to me.”

Searching his face, I see that he isn’t going to budge on this. “We can go intwodays when you’re better. The mountains will be waiting for us and then you’ll still be keeping your promise, okay?”

His lips flatten into a tight line, but he eventually huffs out, “Fine.”

“Good, now let me take care of you.” Spinning on my heel, I head toward the kitchen, grabbing gel ice packs and a tea towel. “How big is the bruising?”

At Matteo’s incessant silence, I can’t help but roll my eyes. The man is so stubborn he could be having a heart attack and he’d drive himself to the hospital. Back on the couch, he eyes me warily.

Holding out the ice packs, I make a whirling motion with my hand. “Come on, show me where it is.”

“Just don’t freak out, okay?”

“Valenti, I swear to god if you keep trying to hide?—”

My words die on my tongue as Matteo grimaces, lifting his shirt. The right side of his abdomen has already deepened to a purplish-black color. The ice packs drop to the floor as my hands smack over my mouth.

He closes his eyes slowly. “Don’t freak out, Dove.”

“Hell to the fucking no! I can freak out if I want! It looks like you got hit by a truck!”

His eyes snap open at that, dancing with humor. His chest rises on a silent laugh but stops just as suddenly as pain flares on his face.

Snatching the ice packs I dropped, I kneel on the floor and slowly place them on his side. I watch the pain course through him—the pain that he tries and fails to hide.

“You should have called me,” I whisper. “Did you drive yourself home?”

“Kieran dropped me and my car off. Grayson drove behind to take him home.”

I nod. “Good, at least I know you still have some brain cells tumbling around up there.”

“I have plenty, thank you very much.”

“That’s yet to be seen,” I tease.

As the ice begins to numb the area, he nestles further into the couch, letting out a small, relieved sigh. “Talk to me, Dove,” he whispers.

“What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.” He’s quiet for a moment before murmuring, “I just want to hear the sound of your voice.”