Page 14 of Wicked Player

“I will, Gage. And good luck today.”

I gave her a quick hug. There was nothing between us except understanding.

“Take care.”

“Always do,” she said, stepping back and going toward the door.

I waited until she closed it behind her, went immediately to Brandon and tucked the blankets around him more firmly. The back of her hand pressed to his forehead and then her lips followed.

I left her to tend to her son, a new fire spreading. The reason for all of this.

I had to kick that pretty little minx out of my head for the rest of the day so I could see to what was really important.

* * *

Patrick peeredthrough the side panel and pulled back. “It’s packed. The hospital’s Chief Development Officer is up first, but you’ll have to go out before he stands to speak.”

It was like Karen had inhabited my assistant’s body. I scowled at him.

A strange sensation prickled at my spine. Had to be nerves. I tried to shake it off. I rolled my shoulders and stretched my arms. If I could have done push-ups without looking like a moron around a dozen people, I would have.

Something was happening, which was why I sent Patrick out to check. I’d hired him as my assistant two years ago when I first came up with the idea to add a family and sibling’s activity center to the hospital. My goal was to create a place where patients could go play when they were healthy enough, but somewhere siblings could enjoy when they spent hours, days, sometimes weeks, living within the walls of the hospital. Always second. Always the outsider. The forgotten one simply because chemo and tests and surgeries and physical therapy and myriad appointments took precedence.

Did it make me feel like a rotten asshole for the times I hated being around my brother? Sometimes.

Most days, I just remembered how fucking cool he was before he got sick. How he could build Legos better than me and how he ran faster. He always kept his room clean where mine was a disaster. From the time he could talk, his favorite obsession was football and by the time he was six, he knew more stats than I did to this very day.

Basically, Harrison was the coolest fucking guy I ever met. I hated being in the hospital with him with nothing to do except read old, worn children’s books and watch lame television.

Those days sucked.

I wanted to make those sucky days better for everyone.

But it wasn’t my upcoming speech or Patrick and Karen’s insanity currently making my spine itch with the need to be inside a woman. It was something else unsettling me.

I shook it off, loosened my arms like I did before a play.

“What is your problem?” Patrick asked. He stared at me like I’d just taken a shit in my pants.

Of course he would. I was never antsy.

“Nothing. It’s just this weird feeling.”

Like in high school when I knew the girl I crushed on was about to walk down the hall and run right into me. Those premonition moments in your life where you knew you weren’t going to like what happened next.

Coupled with the fact I was still fighting against my dick going hard whenever I thought about the woman from last night, and this was a problem.

“Whatever,” Patrick said and went back to peer through the panel. He turned to me and waved. “Come on. Your turn. President is out there now.”

All right, asshole. You got this. Suck it up. Say your speech. Speak about the part of your life that you hate thinking of but the more you share, the more people you help.

All the mental focusing techniques I used on the field didn’t work.

I walked out to loud applause, reporters settling notebooks and tablets in their lap.

And it took one second.

One fucking second.

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