Page 61 of Playing the Pucking Game
Thankfully, a knock sounds out, and in a flash, Linc is on his feet and racing toward the door.
When he returns, he’s got a first-aid kit in his hand and determination in his eyes.
“You know, we could just call Eddie,” I say, mentioning the team doctor.
17
LINCOLN
The thought of someone else touching her—seeing her— right now sends a wave of something hot and unwelcome racing through me.
I grit my teeth as I lower myself back to the bathroom floor beside the little puddle of blood she’s created.
Keeping my eyes focused on the first-aid box, I flip it open and rummage through to find what I need.
“Or anyone more qualified to be digging around in my flesh,” Parker continues, pushing the knife a little deeper.
“I’ve got it,” I mutter, my voice sharper than I was hoping for. “Just…let me fix you up.”
Wisely, she keeps her mouth shut as I rip open a wipe and begin cleaning her up so I can get a better look at the situation.
It soon becomes clear that I was right: she’s got glass in her foot.
The need to chastise her for being thoughtless enough to walk around the city barefoot is almost too much to deny, but somehow, I manage to keep it inside.
I’m in a great position to be kicked in the face here, and I’m already carrying one more injury than I’d like right now.
“Do you have any tweezers?” I ask when I fail at moving the shard, so I can grab it.
“In my toiletry bag,” she says, nodding toward a floral bag on the other end of the counter.
Walking over, I open it up and instantly feel like I’m violating her privacy when I’m greeted with tampons.
I still, and she giggles behind me.
“Problem?” Parker asks, sounding way too amused for my liking.
Look, I love women. I think they’re fucking incredible, and their bodies…mind-blowing. But seeing as I’m a fuck-it-and-chuck-it kind of guy, I’ve never really experienced periods or everything that comes with it. I was already at college when my sister, Nova, hit that part of her life, and I escaped it there, too. However, I am more than familiar with her hormonal mood swings.
Suddenly, the need to know more surges through me. When is Parker due? What symptoms does she get and what does she like to do to make herself feel better? Hot water bottle? Chocolate? Snuggle in bed with trashy TV?
I shake my head, wondering where the hell that came from. I’ve certainly never considered it with any other woman I’ve spent time with.
Why does it suddenly matter?
Because it’s Parker.
Tweezers.
I came here for tweezers.
Without responding, I rummage through the sanitary products, on a mission to find what I came here for.
The second I locate them, I pull them free and return to my previous position, kneeling at Parker’s dangling feet.
I can’t lie, I’ve thought about being here numerous times over the years, although there were never bloody feet and first-aid kits involved.
Thoughtlessly, my eyes drift up her calf before continuing up her thigh.
