Page 40 of Dream Chaser
“We’ve only touched”—he runs his hand down, still gripping me—“the surface. We’re going to be so fucking hot in bed, Iz.” He lets go. “To be continued.”
Chapter 10
NYC
Griffon
I’m hard, I’m hungry, and yeah, for food, but also, I oddly have a craving for beets. The fact she talks about them, or herself like that … nah, like I said, to be continued.
Lucas stands in the front of the bus and claps his hands twice. The low rumble of hushed conversation dies instantly.
“All right, Knights, listen up. Just got word—airport’s a complete shit show. Flights are delayed due to a storm heading from our direction. Traffic’s gridlocked, and some protestors have made it their new hangout.”
A groan rolls through the back.
“But,” he says, “Dean Costello has graciously invited us to use his hockey arena facilities, ice baths”—several of the guys groan, obviously looking forward to it—“and staff of masseuses and physical therapists, along with our own, at the Brooklyn Bears’ home base. He’s putting us up in his hotel for the night. Warren and Grimes will be transferred and receive proper medical carein NYC. The security team is sticking with us. We’re a little over an hour out, so get cozy.”
“Fuck, man.” Bricks leans over, elbows on his knees, and sits there a minute.
“You good, man?” I ask.
“Bag,” he groans.
“Bag?”
He moans and holds his hand over his stomach.
“Oh fuck, like … yeah, bag.”
I grab the barf bag from behind my seat and hand it to him, and he fucking hurls.
I stand up and call, “Hey, Iz.”
She looks up from her phone, eyebrows pinched, already annoyed with me on principle. I nod toward Bricks. Her expression shifts immediately. Not panic—focus as she heads this way.
She kneels in front of him without hesitation, brushing her curls back, eyes all business now. “Tell me what’s going on, big guy.”
“Headache,” Bricks groans. “Nausea. Light hurts. Noise is making me want to puke.”
Iz shines a little penlight from her bag right into his eyes, watching the reaction. “Pupils are sluggish. Dizzy?”
He nods, but then freezes, looking worried. “You ain’t gonna sideline me, are you?”
“You need a brain to play. Right now, yours is swelling like a balloon animal.”
Even Bricks lets out a weak laugh, which she counts as a win,as she should.
“Concussion protocol,” she murmurs, making a quick note in her phone. “We’ll keep you still and monitored till we hit the city. If you hurl again, you get a throne in the aisle.”
“Izzy Ross, you are both terrifying and kinda hot right now,” Bricks mumbles.
Dick … but he’s not wrong.
She rolls her eyes and helps him lean back safely.
I watch her—efficient, calm, every move calculated. And it hits me.
It’s not just the way her voice steadies chaos, or that she’s beautiful. It’s that she doesn’t just know how, but wants to take care of people in a way that’s gut-deep. Even when she’s pretending to be all sass and sarcasm.
