Page 72 of Top Shelf
I managed to make it to the car before I dialed Ferris, and before I panicked that he wasn’t going to answer, his voice came on the line. I wanted to cry when I heard it, and I was petrified because when I told him what I knew about the job, I’d be able to see it on his face.
And if it wasn’t what he wanted—ifIwasn’t what he wanted—I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come back from it.
Traffic was hell on earth.The clinic wasn’t far from the arena, but it was gridlock almost the entire way there. I tried to control the ball of anxiety in my gut, but by the time I got to the parking lot, I was about forty percent convinced I was going to throw up all over my shoes.
I saw Ferris waiting for me at the roundabout, so I pulled up and felt a little better. Even the sight of him soothed me the way nothing else could.
He didn’t smile when he got in the car, but there was nothing new about that. He didn’t always smile on the outside.
“So,” I said when the door shut.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Ferris blurted. “I feel so anxious I want to cry.”
I reached over, hesitated, then took his hand. The hesitation clearly threw him off. I knew he wasn’t used to me second-guessing when it came to touching him. But we were at the arena still. We were at his place of work.
I took the risk anyway, pulling his knuckles to my lips. “I’m sorry I?—”
“I messed up,” Ferris said, cutting me off.
I stared at him.
“I should have read your texts.”
I took a deep breath. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“I made you worry, and I’m so sorry. I was freaking out. I was feeling a little…out of my depth, and I was afraid they were going to make me do something I didn’t want to do. And I…I didn’t want to hear you tell me that I needed to live somewhere else.”
“I should have been clear with my first text,” I told him.
He shrugged, then shook his head. “In the meeting with Andrea—do you know Andrea?”
If he’d asked me that a few hours ago, my answer would have been no. “Yeah. I know of her.”
“I mentioned you. I didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I did, and I told her about your job, and then she said she wanted to ask you to come work here for the Bruins, and I think it might hurt your feelings, Quinn. I am so fucking sorry. I don’t?—”
I cut him off with a kiss. I couldn’t help it. I was more aggressive than normal, but he was panicking over hurting me like somehow I mattered to him more than anything else, and instinct took over. I grabbed him by the back of the head and drew him in and tangled my tongue with his.
He groaned, kissing me deeply, his fingers curling into the front of my scrubs. “Quinn,” he gasped, pulling away. “I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He froze and eased back away from me.
“Ferris, I want to take the job.”
The silence between us was so thick it almost felt like a physical thing.
When he didn’t answer me, I went on. “But only if you want me to. Cal is closing his practice. He doesn’t want to do this anymore. Also, I’m pretty sure he saw me kissing you on the security camera.”
“We weren’t careful,” Ferris whispered, then pressed his fingers to his lips. “Quinn?—”
“I’m not getting fired, and you’re not in trouble. He’s not going to tell anyone. But I need you to know something, okay?”
He nodded, meeting my gaze steadily.
“I can’t work here if I can’t kiss you. I can’t be here if I have to watch you day in and day out—touching you when you’re hurt and watching you smile and talk to other people—if I can’t have you.”
He swallowed so thickly I heard it clicking in his throat.
