Page 65 of Married to Number 22
But before I get that out, he’s on his feet and moving toward me.
I notice that his gait is smooth, even, that his eyes continue to remain lucid and pain free, but it’s only when his fingers wrap around mine and he pulls me against his chest that I manage to speak. “You’re not good,” I fret, running my free hand gently over his chest and arms and shoulders, not daring to touch him anywhere near those bruises or the cut that’s been sewn closed. “You need to sit down and?—”
The other man brushes by me with a soft, “Excuse me.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Aiden says over my head.
“Any time.” A beat. “Meet in the parking lot when you’re ready and we’ll get the scan taken care of, yeah?”
“Yeah, Doc.”
The door closes and I push back gently against his chest, accuse, “You’re hurt.”
“It’s only five stitches,” he says and I feel my mouth fall open.
“Onlyfivestitches? That’s five too many! Not to mention the bruise and the fact that you were carried off the ice on a stretcher!”
My voice catches and I clamp my lips together.
His eyes twinkle. “You’re trying to not to demand that I quit hockey, aren’t you?”
The question is amused, but I’m anything but.
Because I was thinkingexactlythat.
And it’s annoying he knows that.
Because it’s not rational and because I can’t help but think exactly that and because he has fivefreakingstitches in his face.
“We need to get you to the hospital.”
“The CT is just a precaution.”
“Smitty said it’s part of the concussion protocol.”
He scowls. “Smitty is a fucking loudmouth.”
I take his hand, draw him forward. “We need to get your stuff.”
He shrugs and shakes his head. “The team will grab it and make sure it’s on the plane.” He slips his hand from mine, goes back to the table where he’d been sitting, where he’d been sitting getting those fuckingstitches.“And your bag is here.”
I frown.
He answers the unspoken question, “I sent someone back to the hotel to get it.”
Because I couldn’t bring it into the arena, so I’d left it with the concierge.
“Aiden,” I whisper, heart squeezing.
“You’re not alone anymore, Luns.”
My heart squeezes again.
“And we have each other’s backs, right?” He touches my cheek. “You worrying about me and a few stitches and I…” His lips brush over my forehead. “AndIneed to…make sure that sexy lingerie makes its way back home.”
Twenty-Five
Aiden
