Page 101 of My Secret Bandit

“Jameson.” His head rocked against my lap. “I can’t.”

“Okay,” I wouldn’t push him, not right now. If he didn’t want to talk about it, there had to be a good reason.

“Just know that I love you, so fucking much,” he whispered and hugged his face further into me.

“I know. I love you too.”

And I did. I knew Mateo loved me, but that didn’t stop the avalanche of rambling worries that came pounding down on me for the next twenty minutes.

Why would his loving me have anything to do with the game?

Why would he say that?

Will he recover the way the doctor said?

What’s going to happen?

With football?

With him?

With us?

Another awkward throat clear later, the doctor walked in, papers in hand. “You’re all set. Surgery is in two days with the team surgeon, Doctor Baker,” he said, glancing down at the top page.

“Fuck, that’s fast,” Mateo whispered, a rush of air leaving him as he sat up.

“The faster the better, really. It will limit the scar tissue and get you healing quicker.” The doctor came over, handed me the stack of papers and a prescription bottle, then gave Mateo a handshake. “Crutches are your new best friend. The nurse will be in with a brace. We list all your at home care instructions in those papers, and there are enough pain relievers to get you through the next couple of days if you need them. Mostly just take it easy. Lots of elevation. You seem to have a large circle to help you, so let them. No walking, no bearing any kind of weight, no exercising until the surgeon clears you.” As he finished, the nurse walked in with a set of crutches, a long stabilizing brace and a pair of sweats.

“The guy waiting for you thought you might like these.” She smiled, handing over the pants.

In nothing but white compression shorts and a skin-tight tank top of the same material, Mateo sighed, appreciative that his best friend thought to grab him something to cover all the bits that were covered but not covered enough to go cruising through the waiting room full of people.

Yeah, that’s exactly what we need. Someone snapping a picture of the very visible outline of Mateo’s dick and sharing it with millions online.

Not today.

Not ever.

That’s my dick.

With the sweats on, the nurse began securing the brace, instructing us on how it should be done. The long black material had metal bars on both sides and went from mid-thigh to mid-calf with a handful of straps between the two ends. She got the crutches situated and watched as he stumbled to get used to them before getting him a wheelchair and wheeling him through the waiting room doors.

Xander stood outside with the door to Benny’s SUV open and waiting for us. With a big smile, he ran to Mateo. Grabbing his face, he peppered kisses around his forehead and cheeks. “You scared me shitless, bro. Like for real, for real. I think I cried. Then this one,” he said, waving his hand at me.

Mateo looked between us before pushing himself up and sliding into the waiting passenger seat.

“This one what?” he asked when Xander didn’t continue.

“Xander!“ I whispered through clenched teeth, cutting him a look, and he sent me a sassy head wag right back.

“What happened?” Mateo asked again.

“Nothing,” I said

“She fainted,” he countered.

“Fainted! What the fuck? When?”

---