Page 34 of Cross-Checked

And sure enough, as I exit the elevator, AJ is standing with two security guards and one of our team doctors. AJ is patting a still-crying Abby on the back with one hand while cradling her other arm up against her shoulder like she’s trying to avoid Abby accidentally kicking it.

“It’s fine,” AJ insists, shaking off the doctor as she tries to examine her wrist. But the grimace on her face gives her away—she’s not fine, and we can all see it. Glancing up at me as I approach, her brow furrows as she asks, “What are you doing up here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” I step closer to her. “You and Abby were just attacked. Did you think I’d still be down there playing?”

Everyone stares at me like I’m crazy, and that’s when I realize my mistake. I didn’t say I was up here for my daughter. But fuck it if I’m going to pretend that she’s not one of the reasons I walked away from my job tonight, especially since she was hurt trying to protect my baby.

“I’m fine,” she tries to assure me. “And so is Abby.”

I hand my stick to one of the security guards as I unhook the top of the baby carrier. “I’m going to take Abby out. Can you move your hand behind your back so she doesn’t hurt you more than you already are?”

“I’m fine.” The words come out between gritted teeth, but she bends her arm and moves her hand behind her back. Abby’s face lights up as I lift her out of the carrier, and she snuggles into my chest pads, unphased with everything going on around her.

“The EMTs will be here in about three minutes,” one of the trainers says as he runs up to Dr. D’Angelis. “They’re coming to the door in the back parking lot, so we can get them out without walking through the main entrance to the arena.”

“We don’t need to go to the hospital, Olivia,” AJ says to Dr. D’Angelis, using that bossy voice she does so well.

“I disagree.” Dr. D’s voice is equally firm, and she crosses her arms over her chest the same way AJ does when she’s putting her foot down about something. “And I won’t clear you to come back to work until that hand is X-rayed and we make sure you didn’t sustain any other injuries. We need to make sure the baby wasn’t hurt in the fall either.”

Abby has stopped crying, so I know she’s not in pain. Her cries were probably more from fear than anything.

“Stop questioning the team doctor, AJ,” I say. “This is literally her job.”

“Olivia,” she says to the doctor, eyebrow raising, “I’m not one of the players.”

“And yet I still won’t clear you to return until you’re checked out.” Dr. D’s face and voice both soften when she says, “Let me do the job you hired me to do, AJ.”

AJ lets out a dramatic sigh, but doesn’t say anything. There’s no chance she and Abby aren’t going to the hospital right fucking now, and there’s even less of a chance that I won’t be with them.

Chapter Fifteen

AJ

“Most people wear clothes in the hospital, you know,” I say, in pain and annoyed at everything about this situation, and apparently deciding that verbally sparring with McCabe is the best way to get out my frustration.

He turns from where he was standing next to the plastic bassinet on wheels that they brought in for Abby when he’d asked if there was somewhere she could sleep.

Taking the few steps across the small ER room, he says, “I hope you know I like it when you’re feisty.” That damn smirk that drives women crazy graces his lips.

I never understood why anyone would go for the whole grumpy, growly bit...but maybe I’m starting to get it?

“Can’t you, like, find some scrubs or something?”

My wrist is in so much pain, and so far, all they’ve given me for it is some ibuprofen. Something about not being able to give me actual narcotics until they know if I’ll need surgery?

Screw surgery—we’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m missing it. Especially not after the way Philadelphia came back in the last minute of tonight’s game to tie it up, and then won in overtime.

Now we’re 0-2 in a series that should have been 1-1, and probably would have been if McCabe had stayed. Not that I blame him for wanting to make sure his daughter was okay. Plus, I’m sure the EMTs wouldn’t have let her go to the hospital without her dad coming along, anyway.

He steps closer to my hospital bed, wearing nothing but the compression shorts he had on under his uniform. I get why he wanted to take his uniform and pads off, especially with how sweaty he was by the end of the game, but he’s dried off now, so couldn’t he at least slip his jersey back on or something?

“Does it bother you seeing me half-dressed? Because you’ve been in the locker room plenty and it never seemed to bother you before.”

I hate the way my stomach flips at his gravelly voice, the way those words seem to reach out and caress my skin, making it prickle with goosebumps.

“Ronan...” I warn, before glancing over at the bassinet. Even though we turned off the overhead lights and he’s playing some sort of white noise app on his phone, I still don’t know how Abby fell back asleep after that fall. I don’t think I’d ever close my eyes again if I was sleeping peacefully on someone’s chest and then found myself upside down.

Thankfully, as I was pushed backward, I was able to hold on to her with one arm and break our fall with the other. The impact on my wrist when the heel of my hand connected with the cement step of the row below us, however, was excruciating. The way my ribs crashed into the tops of the seats and my head collided with the shoulder of the person sitting in the row below is also going to leave some bruises.

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