Page 36 of Top Shelf
I was fucked.
I wassofucked.
And then it hit me because that meant Ferris was here—on the edge of his first season with the NHL—with an injury that might ruin his career before it even started. Christ, a car accident? What the fuck had happened?
Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door and pressed my ear against it.
“Come in!”
Fuck you, Quinn. Stop being a goddamn coward and do this. He’s just a patient. He’s just a man with an injury who needs treatment, and that is your job. It doesn’t have to be a thing.
I pushed the door open and came to a halt. He was sitting on the exam table, his leg in a walking boot, a set of crutches beside him. He looked like a more tired version of the man I had held on my lap and fucked into oblivion. He looked like the man I’d kissed softly and held tightly. The man I’d showered with and didn’t want to let go of.
His gaze met mine as he sucked in a sharp breath.
Yeah. It was going to be a thing.
Chapter Eleven
Ferris
“If you would just bereasonable, beta?—”
“No, Mama.” I turned and gave her the most withering stare I could manage, which wasn’t very withering at all. I was in pain and I was tired and I was stressed because I didn’t seem to be getting any better.
Though to be fair, I also hadn’t started physical therapy yet. But the surgery had taken a lot out of me, and I still felt a little weird, even though it had been several weeks since I’d gone under the knife. School was keeping me occupied. Several of my classes let me finish online, and the two that refused were kind of nice because limping around campus kept my mind off, well, everything.
But PT was finally starting today, and I was so ready. I needed to get back on my feet properly. Not just because I was ready to hit the ice—it was bad enough I had to miss the end of the season at school—but also because while I loved my mom, she was on my last nerve.
I never thought I would miss the frat house, but I did. I missed my bed. And my things. And my privacy. I missed jerking off without getting to the edge of an orgasm, only to haveher or my auntie pounding on the door and trying to feed me soup.
“Ferris,” she said, her voice dropping. We were just outside the PT’s office, and people were starting to stare. My chest felt tight.
“Please let me do this by myself. You and Auntie can go get coffee or something. Come back in an hour. Okay?”
“You don’t think it’s better if I speak with your therapist and tell them?—”
“I don’t.” She blinked in surprise, and I felt bad. “Mama, please. I’m a grown adult, and if I can’t do this on my own now, how can I expect to get by at my job? You and Dad aren’t moving down here.”
“We’ve talked about it,” she said slowly.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, and I know he said no. Please, Mama. Just…go.”
For a moment, it looked like she was going to fight me. Then she softened and pulled me close. “I don’t think I’m ready for my baby to be grown up yet.”
“But I am grown up.” I think she was trying to be sweet, but my brain was too tired to understand neurotypical nonsense today. “I’ll text you when I’m almost done.”
She kissed my cheek, then turned and walked off, leaving me to hit the blue automatic door button and step in.
The check-in process was easy since I’d done all the forms online, and just as I hit the chair with the edge of my ass, a nurse appeared to take me back.
It wasn’t at all what I expected. I’d seen a lot of medical shows and movies, and I was picturing a big room that looked kind of like a gym with padded floors and parallel bars and other things. This was just like a doctor’s office.
How were they going to help me fix my leg on an exam table?
“Alright, Mr. Redding. Why don’t you have a seat in the chair, and we’ll get your information in.”
I zoned out after that. The one thing I was amazing at was answering on autopilot. My brain could go elsewhere, a calmer, happier place, while my mouth did the work for me. I winced when she prodded at me and tried not to be too annoyed when she took my vitals, but eventually, she was gone, and all that was left to do was wait.
