Cake

by Nicole Reed

  “Kylie?” His voice sounds confident and unsure in the same breath.

  Not. Today. Well, that is my first thought until I realize that he probably knows about Dray’s condition since he’s a teammate, so I change my tactic. Shyly smiling up at him, I hesitate for a second before saying quietly, “Hey, Jason. How is Dray?”

  I see the question in his eyes immediately as he turns his head and blows out a large sigh. “Not good. He has a severe concussion. They really haven’t said anything about his prognosis yet.”

  At his words, my heart sinks as an ache starts in the pit of my stomach. Reaching down, I unconsciously try to rub away the discomfort as Jason’s eyes travel down to my actions. Seeing him stare at my stomach and grit his teeth, I start to wonder what his problem is. Looking down, the revelation of what he is thinking hits me like a ton of bricks, and I immediately stop rubbing my belly.

  “Well, I guess I know now why you didn’t return my calls.” His voice is laced with anger as he jerks his hand away from my arm.

  “Um, this is not what you think, Jason. Dray and I are just...” the word “friends” becomes lodged in my throat, and my hesitation doesn’t help the situation.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he replies as he walks past me, shoulders stiff from anger.

  Rolling my eyes, I start to turn when I notice everyone in the waiting area staring at either me, or my belly. Great. I silently weigh the option of explaining myself to the entire room, when a doctor walks up to the coach. Hearing him ask something about family, I see the coach drop and shake his head.

  Fear clinches at my chest. Oh. My. GOD! Is he dying? He can’t die! He so young and he just now is getting to enjoy the life that he was denied as a child. Trent told me how Dray’s mother was a cracked-out whore who got knocked up by a client. Dray had been in and out of the foster system until, at twelve, he ended up in the same home as Trent. The family that fostered them was only in it for the money, but at least this gave them a chance to stay in the same place and both get college scholarships to achieve a better life. Yes, he is an egotistical male chauvinist pig who loves to embarrass me with sexual innuendoes, but he is Trent’s only brother.

  I hear a high-pitched sob and look around, only to realize that it is coming from me. Covering my mouth, I rush over to the doctor and reach to grab at his white coat.

  “I’m his family.” The doctor and coach both raise questioning eyebrows at my statement.

  “And you are?” The doctor asks.

  “Kylie Lord, sir.”

  “And may I ask how are you connected to Mr. Savage?”

  “I’m his fiancé.” Glancing over at the coach, I see him look at my empty ring finger, and raise his doubting eyes to me. Damn! I’m cutting his wife off at the shop. What could I possibly say to make them believe me? “And his baby’s mama.” Did I just refer to myself as a baby’s mama? Sweet Jesus. The world is coming to an end. You could have heard a pin drop in that waiting room, and for a busy hospital that is saying something. Shuffling my feet back and forth, I take another look around. I see a few faces with smiles, but mainly hostility meets me. I guess they know that he doesn’t have a child, so I dig myself a little deeper. “Uh, unborn child. Baby. Just found out recently.” I nod my head as the lies roll off, but even to my own ears, they sound like a fabrication.

  The coach starts to say something when Mary Grace steps in, speaking to him. I can’t hear their hushed whispers, but finally their small group is staring back at me.

  The doctor clears his voice then says, “Please follow me Miss Lord,” putting an emphasis on the Miss. I don’t think I’m fooling anyone, but hey, it’s getting me back to check on Dray so that I can report to Trent. Going through a series of doors, we finally come to a room with another security guard in front of it.

  Entering in, I look around only to have my heart do a final crash and burn. Dray lies still as death on the hospital bed, hooked up to a couple of different machines. The ping of his heartbeat from one of them reverberates through the sterile room. The doctor is talking to me, but I can’t really focus on him, only on Dray.

  I interrupt, asking, “Is he going to be okay?” My voice comes out in a wishful prayer.

  “He’s taken a direct hit to the head. He’s definitely out for a couple of games, but being that he is young and in great physical shape, I think he will make a full recovery.” A nurse comes in to check his vital signs.

  “What do you mean you think that he will make a full recovery?” I ask looking towards the doctor.

  Turning to look at me, he says, “Many factors dictate the prognosis stemming from a head concussion. One of the major issues is how the patient takes care of themselves after the injury. Having someone to take care of him for the next few weeks is a must. He literally needs to be completely bed-ridden with nothing but absolute rest. Any activities that are physically demanding or require a lot of concentration can make his symptoms worse and slow his recovery,” he finishes as the nurse leaves the room.

  I see Dray flinch, causing me to rush to his bedside, and without thinking, I reach for his large hand which swallows mine whole. He feels warm to the touch, which, finally, gives me a little reprieve in believing he isn’t going to die yet.

  I hear the doctor finish behind me, “He needs peace and quiet for his recuperation. Make sure to provide that for him.”

  Without missing a beat, I automatically reply, “I will,” as he leaves us.

  Feeling pressure enclosing my hand, I look down to see Dray’s gripping tightly to mine. The relief that finds me is unnerving. The pressure behind my eyes is only relieved by the tears silently rolling down my cheeks and the sense that all will be alright now that I’ve seen him, which also proves only to me that I’m losing my mind. Trying to gain perspective, I gently pull my hand back to have him grip tighter to hold me in place. The doctor’s words echo in my mind about causing him no distress. With my other hand, I dry my face the best I can.

  Making myself comfortable, I sit down in the chair next to his bed to watch him sleep, contemplating the change of events in my life. What can I say about Dray? He has been the bane of my existence since college, making my life a living hell. The first night we met, he commented on how Trent’s new humanitarian act must be to save the dogs of America, looking at me as he spoke to Trent, obviously meaning I was the dog. His saving grace was that Trent was actually trying to save some dogs from the local kennel before they were euthanized, so Trent didn’t know he was talking about me.

  Every time he saw me, he went out of this way to degrade me somehow without Trent finding out. Then our junior year, I had finally lost my freshman fifteen and all of a sudden, the mean spiteful remarks turned into to crude sexual humor. He got off on upsetting me, and so, I tried my best to become desensitized to all that he said.

  Looking at him right now, I don’t see a man who I hate with every ounce of my being. All I see is Trent’s brother, and somehow, it’s like having a small piece of Trent with me. Taking my free hand, I raise it against his forehead and stroke it down the side of his face. I’ve never really seen Dray this relaxed, and his features almost make him look boyish. It actually makes me want to climb in bed and cuddle him. Now where the hell did that come from? Cuddle Dray? I must be delirious from the day’s events.

  Glancing at the door, longing for escape, I hear his hoarse voice.

  “You came.”

  Looking over at him, my heart flutters as those soulful brown eyes stare back at me. His face looks so young, and dare I say, beautiful? It’s almost as if he is searching for something inside of me or trying to figure out if I am real or not.

  Clearing my own throat, I reply stupidly, “I came.” Nothing else comes to mind. Dray not saying anything derogatory throws me completely for a loop. What’s even worse is, at that moment, he closes his eyes and smiles. Jeez, the man is good-looking. No, who am I kidding, he’s great-looking. But still an ass.

  “Can you rub my temples? My head is throbbing,�
�� he asks, grimacing the entire time.

  Removing my hand from his, I stand and raise both of mine to each side of his forehead. His skin is soft and warm beneath my fingertips, heating me from the outside in. A fire starts in the pit of my stomach, causing my breath to hitch. I begin massaging gently, rubbing both sides. Closing my eyes, I let this attraction, oh my God, sexual attraction, run rampant. Electricity shoots from his skin to my fingers, down my arms, and, I swear, straight to my breasts, making my nipples tingle and ache. God, and it doesn’t stop as it lowers to pool within my va-jay-jay. My chest rises and falls faster as I continue to massage his head. Applying slightly more pressure, I continue to rub his temples in a circular motion. What the hell is happening? His slight moan of definite pleasure wakes me from my haze.

  Snapping my head to look at him, his eyes hypnotize me as they capture mine with a fire I never imagined to see from him. I retract both of my hands, staring at him as my heavy breathing betrays everything I have been feeling the last couple of minutes. Did I just mind-fuck my number one enemy who is currently an invalid? I have lost my ever-loving mind.

  After several minutes, I hoarsely whisper, “Is that better?”

  Finally closing his eyes, he mutters, “Yes. Much.”

  I’ve got to get out of here. I checked on him as requested, and this shit just got real and very weird.

  Shrugging I say, “Uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay, so I guess you’ll live.” I swear I sound like the village idiot. “I’m just going to leave,” I comment, motioning towards the door. Shaking my head, I start to turn, when, with surprising speed, he reaches out with his large hand to grasp mine again.

  “DAMN IT!” he yells, squinting his eyes tightly together. He places the palm of his free hand against his forehead and rubs.

  He looks to be in severe pain, so I lean in closer to ask, “Are you okay?”

  “I moved way too fast. I swear, every time I shift or speak, my brain hurts like a mother-fucker,” he whispers back, not opening his eyes. “Don’t leave okay?”

  He still isn’t even looking. What does he want from me? The doctor’s words run through my mind about causing him no distress. Glancing once again at the doorway, I know I shouldn’t leave him, but this instant attraction to Dray that I am feeling is freaking me out.

  Taking a deep breath, I reply, knowing I don’t have a choice, “I can stay.”

  Still not opening his eyes, I think he’s fallen back asleep, when his deep voice answers me, “Thanks, Kylie.”

  Within minutes, his breathing deepens, letting me know that he is back out. God, what just happened? My mind races as I think about what just transpired between us. Okay, calm down Kylie, I tell myself. Think about the facts. Dray has no family, and whether we like it or not, we’ve spent more time together than most families over the past several years, a dysfunctional family, but a family none the less. I can’t believe his latest girl toy is not here. Wait, now that I think about it, I think I heard he broke off their month long courtship last month. I am amazed it lasted as long as it did - a definite record for him.

  Sliding down into the chair I was sitting in before, I contemplate how long this is going to take. Trent said he would call back, but that could be hours. Leo is scheduled to open the boutique the rest of the week, and I have closing covered with Martha and Jess. The doctor said that Dray would need complete care when he is discharged from the hospital. I can at least help him find a nursing agency that can provide that for him. Speaking of, another nurse walks in, smiling at me while she replaces his I.V. bag of fluids, so I smile back. She glances at our joined hands as she walks out, again smiling as she nods at me. A feeling of unease ripples up my spine, so I disengage my hand from his.

  Quietly standing, I pull my phone back out to switch the ringer to vibrate as not to disturb Dray. Taking one more look at him, I pull myself away, making myself walk out of the room. Placing my hand across my mouth, I lean my back against the closed door, taking deep breaths to calm my heart and racing thoughts.

  “Are you okay, Ma’am?”

  The sound of the security officer’s voice makes me jump out of place.

  “No,” I answer, shaking my head back and forth.

  “He’s going to be okay. I heard the nurses say so,” he replies, smiling at me.

  Letting out a un-lady like snort, I walk away from him. Yeah, but the question is, am I? It’s been a month since I’ve been with Jason. That has to be it. I haven’t even used B.O.B., my battery operated boyfriend, lately because of my hectic work schedule. Tonight. It’s a date. I’ll even surprise B.O.B. with a set of new batteries.

  Turning the corner, I run straight into Mary Grace.

  “Hey, Sweetie. I was hoping to catch you before I left. The doctor briefed the team that with some rest Dray will be okay. At least he’s only missing preseason and shouldn’t miss any regular season games.”

  I remember the conversation that everyone overheard before I was able to see Dray.

  Holy!

  Shit!

  Grabbing her hand, I head straight for the waiting area, weaving and dodging the nursing staff at break neck speed.

  “Um, Kylie. Where are we going?”

  Walking into an empty room, I look around, finally rounding on Mary Grace as I all but yell, “Where is everyone?”

  “Returned home, I guess. Most of the players and football staff have been here all night.”

  Placing my hands up to my face, I breathe a heavy sigh. “Okay,” I say once more to myself. Some of the players are the worse gossipers ever, not to mention their wives, who I’m sure they will tell first. “Mary Grace, I need your help.”

  “Sweetie, I realize that you probably didn’t want anyone to know what is going on between you and Dray, but now with the baby, I’m sure it will be a relief not to have to hide your relationship from the press anymore.”

  “Listen,” I start to say, when she interrupts.

  “No, judgment here. I understand how, if the local press knew that you two were together, you wouldn’t get any peace at first. I know how private you tend to be, so I totally get where you are coming from.”

  “No, you totally don’t,” I respond back. She is starting to irritate me. In my head, I rationalize how much she will likely spend at the shop in the next year versus cursing her out for not listening to me, and subsequently lose her business.

  “Kylie, you just told your secret to some of the biggest busy-bodies in Atlanta. Yours and Dray’s relationship, I’m sure, was the town gossip the moment you left that waiting room.”

  I try once again to cut her off, “Mary Gr...,”

  “No going back now.” She cuts me off again. Grabbing my hand, she pats it softly, before continuing, “It will be alright. Just you wait.”

  “Mary Grace, we need to leave.” Her husband replies from the doorway, literally minutes from my homicidal tendencies emerging.

  Air-kissing my cheeks she finger waves and turns to walk away before I can snatch the hair off her head. Okay, think Kylie. What to do first? A sudden buzzing in my pocket surprises me for a second, then I race to see who is calling. An unknown number pops up, and my heart drops knowing its Trent as I answer.

  “Hey.” I rush out. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Thank God,” he sighs in relief. “What did the doctor say?”

  That would be Trent, not doubting for a second that I would find out what he needed. Taking a gasp of air in, I answer, “He’s going to have to have someone with him for the next couple of weeks watching over him twenty-four seven, but as long as he gets plenty of rest he should be fine.”

  “You have to do it, Kylie.”

  His statement throws me for a second, but I’m sure he doesn’t mean what I think. “Yeah, I’ll get on hiring a nurse to stay with him.”

  The static crackles crossing the line, but I can still hear Trent.

  “No, no, no. That will not work. You know how he is. He’s not going to let someone he doesn
’t know stay with him. You know he gets antsy about that. He doesn’t even let his girlfriends stay the night that often. It has to be you, Kylie. Please. I can’t return home right now or I would. Set your differences aside for me.”

  “NO!” I yell into the phone. Looking up, I note several nurses eavesdropping on my conversation. Glancing around for an escape, I see an empty snack area and walk inside.

  “Kylie, I’m begging you. You can’t know how much I’m worried about him.” The line keeps cutting in and out. I’m not sure if it’s his voice cracking or the phone.

  “Trent, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. Please. I’ll owe you big.” His pleading tears out my heart, and again, I’m reminded of where he is at and exactly what he is doing.

  I’ve never told Trent no and meant it. Ever. He always gets under my skin or maybe it’s not a choice from the beginning. Closing my eyes, I answer, “You will owe me big.”