It was worse.
So much worse.
“The car’s here, Em.” Kinsey grabbed my arm. “Let’s go.”
Miller texted me updates throughout our flight. The guys won the game, and I couldn’t care less. I just wanted to feel Grant’s arms around me. I wanted to hear his laugh. I wanted to walk into that room and see him sitting up with a stupid grin on his cocky face.
I wanted more than I deserved.
It hurt so bad that I thought I was going to be sick.
After the car picked us up from the airport, the entire ride was tense, and Kinsey never let go of my hand. When I got to the actual lobby of the hospital, Bucks players were littered everywhere, most of them pale, dirty from the game, still in uniform.
Miller breathed a sigh of relief when he saw me. “Em!”
I ran into his arms and sobbed uncontrollably while he rubbed my back.
“Shhh . . .” He held me tight. His uniform rubbed against my skin. “It’s going to be okay. I know it.”
“How—” I cried. “How do you know?”
“Because . . .” He kissed the top of my head. “He’s a cocky bastard. He wouldn’t let a hit get him down, right?”
He was trying to make me feel better. But I knew there was only one reason they would send the jet for me.
One reason.
It was in all of their contracts when they were in a relationship.
If there was a chance they could die, they sent the jet.
If they were already dead, they sent the jet.
If they were breathing their last breath, they sent the jet.
I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was afraid to even say it out loud, so I waited, sandwiched between Miller and Kinsey, waited for something—anything.
No news was good news. I had to believe it. Right?
From what Miller said they were worried about damage to his spinal cord, possibly paralyzed from the neck down, broken neck, or a coma.
All bad things, very bad things.
“It could be a sprain too,” Kinsey piped up. “I studied sports medicine, and I know I’m not a doctor, but sprains can shock the body that way. I’m just . . . Don’t give up hope, okay, guys?”
I nodded.
The doctor walked in, his expression grim.
I don’t even remember falling to my knees, only that Miller caught me before I passed out onto the floor.
Chapter Forty-Two
MILLER
If I could take his place, I would. And I meant it.
To see my best friend utterly destroyed . . .
I would rather die.
I would rather be dead.
I held her tight. I made him promises I knew I would die to keep. And I prayed . . .
To a God who never listened when I asked for my mom to come back.
To a God who never listened when my dad turned into an alcoholic.
To a God who ignored me when I cried over losing Em.
You owe me, I thought angrily.
And I could have sworn I heard a voice say, “Trust me.”
Chapter Forty-Three
SANCHEZ
I dreamt of her lips—they were hot, then cold against my burning skin. Each time I saw her face, I tried reaching for her but couldn’t feel anything, not even her mouth when she touched mine. It was torture. And then the dream would end and blackness would consume me again.
It was either the worst nightmare ever . . .
Or I was dead.
I think I’d choose death over constantly dreaming of a woman I couldn’t touch, couldn’t kiss, couldn’t taste.
“Grant?” her voice called to me.
I opened my mouth.
Parted my lips.
“Grant!” The voice was stronger. God, I wanted to reach out and touch the voice. “Open your eyes.”
I was trying.
I felt my wrist move and then my fingers.
“He’s moving!” Miller yelled.
Why the hell was Miller in my dream? Stay the hell out, man! I was having a moment with my girl! Could have sworn she was going to take off her shirt.
I smirked.
“Why is that bastard smiling?” Miller said out loud. “Swear, if he’s faking this, I’m going to punch him in the dick.”
I tried to laugh.
It came out like a muffled mewling sound that sure as hell wasn’t coming from me, was it?
“Grant.” I smelled her, my girl, my Curves, and then she touched my hands, my face. “Please, baby, open your eyes.”
Come on, man, easy! Just open! I concentrated so hard I felt like I was getting a headache and then, suddenly, they popped open.
Miller jumped backward. “Seriously? Could you not do that a bit slower as to not scare the shit out of me?”
“I don’t do things slow,” I rasped. “Only fast.”
He looked like hell, still in uniform. More dirt was on him than on the field. I was sure of it. “You look like shit.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You clearly haven’t seen yourself.”
I winced. “What happened?”
Em burst into tears and didn’t stop crying for at least ten minutes.
My heart shattered into a million pieces as I reached for her and held her as close as I could with all the monitors and cords hooked up to me.
“You thought it would be super fun to play football without a helmet,” Miller said. “And someone literally nearly took your head off.”
“Severe sprain.” A man in blue scrubs walked in. “Which is odd, since I was ready to pronounce you dead the minute you were rolled in here.”
“Fuck! Can I please have a doctor with a better bedside manner?” I growled.
“It’s true.” Em sniffled. “I mean I didn’t know it until the nurse came running out to tell the doctor you were moving, but—”
“Basically . . .” The doctor interrupted softly. “You’re either very lucky, or the Big Man upstairs doesn’t want your arrogant ass taking up space in heaven, at least not yet.”
“Aw, he said I was going to heaven.” I grinned. “See? That’s better, Doc.”
Em punched me in the shoulder. “Of course you would! You’re, you’re—” She shook her head as more tears ran down her face.
“Baby, I was kidding. I’m sorry.” I held her cheeks between my hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Miller stared at us in wonderment.
“You okay, man?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He frowned then scratched his head. “Never mind. I just . . .” He grinned down at the floor then looked up at the ceiling, tears filling his eyes. “I think I had one of those moments.”
“By yourself?” I asked.
“Kind of,” he said, vague as hell. “Try not to die next time you get hit, alright, man? I’m going to give you some time alone.”
My annoying doctor kept writing shit on a clipboard. I stared him down; he stared right back.
With a sigh, I waited.
“You can’t move too much, and we need to run more tests, but it looks like you’ll make a full recovery. Clearly, you won’t be in the playoffs this year, but if you look good after three weeks . . .” He shrugged. “And if your team beats ours . . .” Another grin. “You may be able to play in the championship.”
“Thanks, Doc.” I was just happy I wasn’t dead like he seemed to hope, the bastard.
“Anytime.” He nodded. “I’ll give you two a minute alone.”
Em sniffled and then pressed her face against my chest. “They sent the jet.”
“Fuck.” Tears filled my eyes. I tried to keep them back, but they fell anyway. “I’m so damn sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” I held her so tight my knuckles turned white. “So sorry.”
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “I can’t . . .” She gripped my face with both hands. “You suck so bad!” She smacked me lightly with one of her hands then kissed me. “You made me love you so much, and now . . . now I can’t, Grant. I can’
t live without you. I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to do it.”
“I don’t want you to have to, but you’d be fine,” I said soothingly. “You’re strong.”
“You make me stronger.” She sniffed. “Braver.” She kissed my cheek. “You make me all the things I wish I was. You complete me, you cocky jerk, and I wish I could walk away because it does hurt, so damn much, but I’m not that girl either.”
“What girl?” I asked as something huge lodged in my throat, making it impossible to breathe.
“I’m not the type of girl who walks away,” she said softly. “I’m the girl that stays.”
Yeah, those tears were suckers from hell, but they just kept filling up my eyes like they belonged there, dirty bastards.
“So even though it hurts, I’m staying. Even though I’m afraid, I’m staying, because you make me brave. And I love you so much that I can’t breathe without you.”
I was too choked up to say anything other than what my heart was screaming for. “Marry me.”
She blinked and then shook her head. “What?”
“Me. Marry me.” I kissed her roughly across the mouth. “Not now, I have to look badass, and Grant Sanchez does not look badass in a hospital gown.”
She smacked my stomach. “You third-personed yourself in your marriage proposal, you asshole!”
“I wanted you to laugh,” I said honestly. “Marry me, Curves. I’ve always wanted to marry my best friend.”
“You forced that friendship, and you know it.”
“You needed it, and you know it.”
She nodded as more tears fell across her cheeks. “I hate it when you’re right. You’re impossible to live with, you know.”
“Baby, it’s because I have all the answers.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Is that a yes?”
“On one condition.” She pressed a finger to my lips. “I want my ring to cost more than that stupid bed . . .”
I sucked her finger into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. “Done.”
“And the piano.”
I sighed. “Baby, I’m not made of money.”
She tilted her head. She knew my net worth. It’s not like I hid shit from my girl.
“Yeah okay, I’m made of money.” I shrugged. “That better not be why you’ve been letting me take you on the kitchen counter and eat off—”
Someone coughed.
Poor Kinsey was standing there with red ears and cheeks.
“Sorry.” She waved. “I was afraid of the end of that sentence.”
“I think we all were,” Miller said next to her, his arms crossed. “Sanchez, why do you gotta be such a crude little shit?”
“It’s in my blood,” I answered honestly. “And my girl likes it.”
Miller rolled his eyes. “Kins wanted to make sure you were breathing, but I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m going to escort her out of here before you two start ripping each other’s clothes off.” He saluted us and wrapped an arm around Kinsey before shutting the door behind them.
“What do you say? A little hospital memory?” I wasn’t above begging.
“The doctor said—”
“The doctor thought I was dead. Do we really trust this doctor?” I moved a hand to her right breast and squeezed.
She shivered. “Just . . . okay, fine, but just . . . you need to be still.”
“Holy shit, I think I’m in heaven. Are you just going to pleasure me until I pass out? I’m down for it, just let me hydrate first.”
She pointed to the IV bag and shrugged. “You’re good to go. Now, where do I go first?”
I put my hands behind my head and sighed. “Everywhere.”
“Slave driver.”
“Remind me to get rope later, a bit of masking tape—”
She silenced me with her mouth, nearly sending me bucking off the bed. I was done laughing and though I couldn’t move much—
Yeah, I was in heaven.
Epilogue
MILLER
Post-Championship Party
Las Vegas Aria Penthouse
3:00 a.m.
I woke up to a pounding between my eyes that felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to my nose and pounded for hours. Wincing, I tried to move and felt so nauseous that I froze.
I never partied during the season.
Which meant, since we’d won the championship, the guys and I along with all of our friends had decided we needed to go big.
Party in Vegas!
We took flights down the night after the win and had been drinking ever since.
Emerson warned us.
Kinsey warned us.
Hey, guys, they’d said in those irritating voices. Remember, you haven’t been drinking, so you can’t drink as much and not get hungover.
Yeah, that hadn’t gone over well.
We drank more to prove them wrong.
Though, Sanchez had stopped because he wanted to be able to perform sexually. But when he said sexually, I could have sworn he’d added in a few extra x’s and nearly stumbled into the wall.
The room finally stopped spinning. I reached for the bottle of water on my nightstand and made the slow progression of getting up to go get some Advil. Our penthouse had three bedrooms, but poor Kinsey got the couch, since Jax was paying for her, and he’d taken one of the rooms for himself.
I quietly walked out to the living room so I wouldn’t wake her, dug around for some ibuprofen, popped five, then tripped over a trash can.
I winced; now my head and my foot hurt.
But no movement from the couch.
The hell?
She wasn’t even on the couch.
Oh hell, Jax wasn’t going to like that. I should at least text her to get her ass back to the room so she didn’t get locked somewhere again.
I walked back to my nightstand and grabbed my phone, only to see movement in the bed.
What.
The.
Hell.
A feminine arm poked out from underneath the duvet, and then the woman turned on her side.
I couldn’t make out her features.
Who the hell had I slept with?
Panicked, I switched on the flashlight on my phone.
And locked eyes with Kinsey.
“Are you seriously pointing a flashlight at me right now?” She hissed, “Turn that shit off, Miller! I’m trying to—” She clutched the sheet and jerked to attention, grabbing her head and then the sheet before it fell down. “No. Nope. No. No. NO!”
I slammed a hand over her mouth. “Do you want to wake up Jax?”
She shook her head.
I looked down.
Yup. Naked.
I licked my lips while she ducked her head under the sheet, cursing so loudly I almost shushed her again, and then she took a deep breath. “What happened?”
“Seriously?” I threw my hands in the air. “Don’t you think I’d look a little less panicked if I knew?”
Her eyes fell to my cock.
“That . . .” I pointed. “Is because—Stop staring, Kins, seriously.”
“Did that thing—”
“And don’t call it a thing! Shit, you don’t do that to a guy!”
“But—”
I slammed a pillow over her face. “Better?”
She nodded.
“Ready to talk with your inside voice?”
Another nod.
“Let’s just . . . go back to sleep and deal with it in the morning.”
“Okay.” She breathed a sigh of relief and slid back under the covers.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She flopped on her side. “You said to sleep on it!”
“You sleep on the couch. I sleep here.”
“Oh hell no.” She smacked my arm. “The couch hurts my back!”
“I’m literally four times your size!” I snapped.
“Guys!” Emerson made her way into my room. “Why is there so much yell—”
>
Her grin was so wide I wanted to suffocate her with a pillow.
“So . . .” She put her hands on her hips. “This is fun.”
“Swear on your life, Em—”
“Baby, where’s the Advil—Oh hello.” Sanchez leaned against the wall while Kinsey covered her head with a sheet. “A little midnight rendezvous?”
“I hate football players,” Kinsey said underneath the sheet.
“And yet, it seems you let one touch your special place,” Sanchez just had to say, the ass. “Imagine that. Should I get Jax?”
“Don’t you dare!” Emerson smacked him in the stomach. “He’d kill Miller! We need him next season!’
“Thanks, Em.” I nodded. “Glad that’s your only reason. See if I ever get you a Christmas present again.”
“What?” She shrugged.
Sanchez let out a moan. “Oh, by the way, since I was too drunk to perform, I have a bet that you didn’t either, my man, so I wouldn’t worry about it, but I am curious how little Kinsey ended up making her way into your room after we all got back.”
Kinsey didn’t say anything.
“Alright then.” Em grabbed Sanchez. “Water, go. Leave them to argue it out . . .”
“I’m tired,” I said once they were gone and the light was off again.
“Me too.” I could hear her yawn.
“Just . . .” I stacked pillows between us. “Stay on your side.”
“Okay, middle school.” She snorted. “Wouldn’t want to get cooties.”
“God, you’re annoying right now.” I tossed the pillows to the ground and smacked the one under my arm, fluffing it.
“That’s not how you fluff.” She turned around so fast her face smacked into my chest, and then she was fluffing my pillow and lying back down, only this time she was facing me.
“It would have been a mistake, you know,” I whispered.
“Yeah.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Huge mistake.”
“Giant.”
“Enormous,” I agreed.
And then I was kissing her, my friend’s little sister. I knew what might happen next, but once I had a taste . . .
There was no going back.
One choice . . .
That I had no idea would affect my life forever.
One girl.
Let that be a lesson. Where one door closes, a freaking garage door opens.
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