Page 7 of Chance Encounter

Pointing the remote at the TV, I hit play to watch my favorite show. “Try not to choke on your stew and ruin my night.”

I swear I hear him murmur a fuck you before Moira locks herself in the closet.

3

MADDOX

In the lightof a new day, my ankle is killing me. If I could sneak out of Chance’s house, I would, but when I tried to stand up earlier this morning, I nearly screamed out in pain when I tried to put any weight on my foot.

“You’re up,” Chance barks out as he strides through the room and into the kitchen.

Unfortunately. I’ve been stuck on the couch all morning because I knew I’d end up waking him up trying to get around.

“Are you hungry?” He moves around the kitchen, clanging cups and pans. “I can fry up some eggs and bacon before we head out.”

Turning to look over my shoulder, I find Chance with his hands on his narrow hips. I get caught on his abs and the deep V that leads down into his plaid pajama pants. When I finally make my way up the rest of his body, Chance’s dark brown eyes are narrowed as he looks at me.

“Do you want something to eat or not?” He clips out.

“Sounds great.” As long as there’s no arsenic in it. I wouldn’t put it past him. “I’m going to use the bathroom if you don’t mind.”

He huffs and moves around the counter. “I didn’t have you stay here to torture you, as fun as that sounds. Did you really think I wouldn’t let you use the bathroom?”

The fuck if I know. A second ago, I thought Chance might poison me. Preventing me from using the restroom seems like his brand of torture.

He looks down at the now soggy ice packs hanging from my leg. I probably should have taken them off, but I didn’t want to see the damage just yet. “How’s the ankle this morning?”

I could lie. Hell, I want to, but I know the second I try to walk, Chance will see the truth.

“It’s fucking killing me,” I grumble.

“I should have given you some more ibuprofen before I headed off to bed, or at least left you some to take this morning.” His full lips form a thin line. “I’m not very good at taking care of people.”

“That’s okay. I’m usually pretty good at taking care of myself. And my younger brother, even when I don’t want to,” I admit. I’m not sure why I’m telling Chance my grievances about my brother. He’ll probably go and tell the whole town how Garrison is a burden on me and have them hating me even more.

“Your brother seems like the kind of tool who wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. Maybe if you stop, he’ll have to start or at least try. Let him fail.”

He’s probably right, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell him that.

“Okay,” he draws the word out. Sticking his hand out to me, I look at it, wondering what he expects of me. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

Oh, of course, except half the time when I’m around Chance, my brain isn’t working since my hormones take over. It’s like being transported back to high school when I realized Chance Reed made me harder than anyone on the planet. He still has the power to make me hard and lose myself in his heady cologne and good looks. But then all I have to do is remember when Chance publicly humiliating me after winning one of our hockey games.

I push away, not wanting to rely on him. “I can get there on my own.”

“Stop being a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, and let me help you. You’re only going to hurt yourself further if you try to get there on your own.” He lets out a long exhale, and his body tenses. “And I don’t want you here any longer than you have to be.”

“Fine,” I snap, tightening my grip on his shoulder. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Good,” he shoots back like a child.

I take one step, and I know I’m in trouble. Any weight I put on my foot is excruciating. If Chance weren’t here, I would have dropped to the floor.

“Fuck,” I grit out. “This isn’t normal. Are you sure it didn’t look broken?”

“I’m no doctor, Mad. It’s possible with how swollen it is.” He hums to himself. “You know, I might have a pair of crutches out in the garage. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go get them? That way, you don’t have to rely on me to get around.”

“That would be great.” I give in. Seriously, why couldn’t it have been anyone else who saved me? “I don’t think I can get around on one foot.”

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