Page 47 of Securing the Pucking Rebound
“Pretend what? That Cooper Nash didn’t fuck up your knee? How’s that working for you?”
“Really well. I’m on the next train to the land of delulu.”
She laughs before covering her hand with her mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny.”
“It’s either laugh or cry,” I mutter before lifting a taco to my mouth, wondering why it’s so easy to talk about this shit with her.
If I’m with anyone else, I lock it all down and try to pretend that my current situation isn’t fucking killing me. But with her…the words just flow.
“It’s okay to cry about it if you need to,” she says with so much understanding in her tone it brings a lump to my throat. “I won’t tell anyone if you do.”
“Appreciate that.”
“So, heating pad? Painkillers?”
“I’m meant to be taking care of you.”
“And you have. Now let me return the favor.”
I smile at her, and she takes it as a silent agreement, getting to her feet to get what she knows I need.
Two minutes later, she’s back with a heating pad that she gently places over my knee. I wince as she looks at it, at the scars that mar my skin, telling a story that I don’t want to know, before handing me two pills and passing me the bottle of water I left on the coffee table.
“Thank you.”
“They’re not very strong. I’m not sure if—”
“They’re perfect,” I tell her before swallowing them. “Now, eat your dinner.”
“Yes, sir,” she teases. It’s so unexpected, I choke on my water. “Shit. Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I wheeze. “I’m great.”
Her eyes meet mine and for the briefest of moments, something passes between us.
Sienna’s breath catches, letting me know that she felt whatever it was too before she drops back on the couch and pulls her dinner onto her lap. “We should eat before it gets cold,” she says, her eyes on the blank TV screen.
“Yeah,” I muse, suddenly not feeling so hungry for the Mexican, and every bit starved for the woman beside me.
Two movies later, Sienna is slumped on the couch, her eyes barely open, and the blanket pulled right up to her chin.
“We should call it a night. Want me to carry you to bed again?”
“No, I can do it myself. You shouldn’t be carrying anyone with that knee.”
“I wouldn’t carry anyone else,” I admit.
She gazes at me with sleepy eyes and a soft smile.
“You’re not like what everyone thinks, are you?”
“I dunno about that, darlin’. I certainly have my moments.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me.
“I won’t be over tomorrow night. Got a team thing.”
A little frown forms between her brows. “Oh.”
