Page 32 of Powder
“I think the doctor should look at it,” he replied.
“Well, I think it’s fine, and it’s my body, so what I say goes.”
“Do I need to call Fiona?”
I gasped. It hurt. I stared at him in shock. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then let the doctor look at it.”
“Are you always this fucking bossy?”
“Yes, when I care about someone. Now call the doctor, or I’ll call Fiona.”
“How does everyone I know have each other’s phone numbers? What the fuck did I fucking miss, and hand me my fucking phone so I can call the fucking team doctor.”
“That was a lot of fucks,” Tian said as he reached up to pluck my phone from the nightstand. “We kind of reached out to each other here and there. Making new friends. That’s what the Olympics are about.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered as I fumbled through the pages of files, numbers, and contact info on my phone until I found the onefor the team doctor and dialed it. “Also, I say fuck a lot. I’m a hockey player. Oh, hey, Doc, Jack O’Leary. I have a small, little, tiny bruise on my back near my kidney that’s a whisker on the sore side. Should I take some aspirin and use a heating pad, or should I lie down on the floor and just expire? What? No, I was being a smart ass. It’s nothing too bad. No, no blood in my urine. Yep, lots of fluids, bed rest. We have a morning skate today, and Coach… okay, well, sure if you think I should take the day to rest. I know we play Denmark tomorrow. It’ll be fine by… Sure, I can let you look at it tomorrow morning at practice. Yep, sure, no, yes, okay. Yep, thanks, Doc.”
I ended the call and then flipped my phone to the nightstand. “Well, what did he say?” Tian prompted just as Starry broke out into an off-tune rendition of “Love on the Rocks” that made my sore back even sorer.
“Rest today, let him evaluate it in the morning. So, what the hell am I supposed to do all day stuck in this stupid hotel room?” I grumbled, put out with everyone and everything. If I missed tomorrow’s game, I was going to be?—
“I can hang out with you. Here. Alone. In this bed…” The tone of his voice and the tiny touch of his finger to my thigh drove all my mutterings out of my head. “I mean if you want to be stuck here with me all day.”
I threw my hands into the air. I knew when I was beat. “I’m happy as a fucking clam at high tide to spend the day with you.” That was the truth. One whole day with Tian locked in a hotel room? Uhm, yes, please and thank you. “I’m still mad at the three of you.” I knew I had no reason to be mad at my sister, but once she found out, she would nag, and then I’d have reason, so I was pissed preemptively.
“That’s okay, be mad.” He patted my face, stole a kiss, and then told me to lie down so he could pamper me for the day.
Turns out Tian wasn’t only a fabulous athlete, but he was also one hell of a nurse. The sponge bath he gave me wasexceptionallymemorable.
SIXTEEN
Tian
We’d kepteverything soft and low, a jokey bed bath had been less washing, and more me caging Jack and blowing him with all the care and sweetness I could muster, the kind of closeness I craved when everything outside these walls was noise and pressure. Jack had come undone in my mouth, his hand tangled in my hair, the sound of his release a muffled groan I wanted to hold onto forever. But even that tenderness had been too much. When I slid up beside him and kissed the sweat on his cheek, he winced, the pain obvious. That was when I knew something wasn’t right.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I whispered, regret clawing at me. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
“I’m fine.” He leaned in, brushed his mouth over mine with a shaky kiss. “Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he joked, but when his eyes slipped shut, the color drained from his face. He looked so damn pale it scared me.
“Jack?”
“Five seconds, that’s all I need.”
“I don’t need anything.”
He smirked faintly, stubborn even through the pain. “I’m blowing you whether you want it or not. I want my mouth on you, I want to kiss you, I want all of you.” His eyes rolled a little, and he placed a hand to his forehead. “Wow, head rush,” he said.
“You’re not well. Talk to me, Jack.”
“I’m fine.” His voice cracked into something softer, then he tried to lighten it with a crooked grin. “Hell, I’ll even sing the national anthem if that’ll convince you I’m fine.”
I knew the second he tried to laugh it off that it was bad. He tried to roll to sit up and went white as paper as the movement tore a gasp from him. My stomach knotted with fear when I saw the bruise had spread, ugly purple and black, blooming from his ribs down over his flank and creeping toward his hip, the kind of mottled bruise that looked like spilled ink spreading under his skin. I’d seen bruises, hell, I’d had bruises as bad as this on my limbs, but never this bad on my torso.
“Fuck, Jack, that looks bad.”
He smirked faintly, trying to play it off. “I’ve had worse; it’s nothing,” he lied, moving slowly until his feet were on the floor, tugging the sheet up as if he wanted to hide the bruise.
