He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. "Yes, the hospital rumor mill said something about you two being an item."
"I think your rumor mill is accurate."
The man nodded. "Thought so. I wondered why she handed you over to me so quickly." He laughed. "Doesn't matter. She did the right thing. She has strong ethics and standards. And she is an excellent surgeon."
I wasn't used to feeling pride for someone else. But I did. My heart almost burst with it. My little sex vixen was a fucking genius, and everyone around here knew it. I needed to do something for her.
"You'll sign off for me, won't you?" I towered over the doctor, but I didn't think intimidation was necessary this time. I had proven my hand functioned fine. I could play in the Sunday game.
"Not a problem. The AFA and the Wranglers will be happy you're back." He handed the freshly inked document to me.
"Thanks. Do you know if Dr. Ashworth is out of surgery?"
He shook his head. "No, she's probably got another two hours ahead of her, but I'll tell her you stopped by."
"That's okay. I'll talk to her tonight."
We had a lot to celebrate. I had my medical clearance. And I owed most of it to the sexiest woman in this hospital.
Lennon walked through the door looking exhausted. I threw a kitchen towel over my shoulder and shoved a glass of wine in her hand.
"Here." I kissed her on the neck.
"Thanks." She kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch in her scrubs. "I'm going to drink this and then take a shower."
I turned my attention to the pot of boiling water on the stove. I could make one dish, and Lennon was getting ready to try it.
"So, I heard you caused quite the commotion at the hospital today."
"Really?" I poured in a box of pasta and set the timer.
"Were you there for your follow-up physical with Dr. Evans?"
"No, I got my clearance for the AFA."
She jumped from the couch. "What in the hell are you talking about? It's not even close to six weeks."
I rotated my right hand in front of her. "Look, I'm fine. You're an amazing surgeon. I'm ready to play."
"Play?" She choked. "You think you're going to play with that hand? You're fucking crazy."
I liked it when she said fuck. Such a dirty word on a pretty, luscious mouth.
"Calm down. My doctor cleared me."
Her hands were on her hips. I knew that livid look in her eye. "I didn't clear you."
"But you're not my doctor, are you? You handed me off to Dr. Evans and he and my therapist have signed all the paperwork."
Before I knew what she was doing, she grabbed my right hand. I didn't flinch. "Let me look at that."
She twisted it in front of her, drawing imaginary lines with her fingers between the bones. She made a cross over my knuckles and applied pressure at my fingertips.
"And this doesn't hurt you?"
I shook my head. "Not at all."
Her eyes narrowed. "What did you do? This is impossible."
"Do?" I pulled my hand back.
I had made the decision that I wasn't dragging her into this. As far as she was concerned, she needed to think I was a medical miracle. The kind of man who could heal with the speed of The Flash.
"Yes, what did you do? Best case scenario you had a six to eight week recovery period and then you would start rehab. We talked about it, Wes. This isn't possible."
"Well, I'm fine. The hand works great. See?" I waved with all fingers and my thumb. "I'm lucky I had such a kick ass surgeon who could stitch me back together."
Her lips puckered together. "I don't buy it. What are you not telling me?"
"Let it go, Lennon." I stirred the pasta in the pot. I miscalculated this conversation.
She walked around the kitchen island. "I can't. I know you took something. You did something. Who helped you? Where did you get it?"
I shook my head. "Stop. Stop."
"How could you do this? How could you jeopardize your career like this? Your health? Do you even know what you took? The side effects?"
"It's none of your damn business. You're not my doctor, you made sure of that."
"Yeah, because you wanted to date me." She stormed out of the kitchen.
"Where are you going?"
"To take a shower." She slammed my bedroom door in my face, but I walked in after her.
"Take a breath, and calm the fuck down." It was the wrong thing to say. I knew it when she pivoted toward me, blue eyes blazing.
"I'm trying to get some space. I'm trying to calm down, but you're following me. I don't even know what to say to you right now."
"How about that you're happy my hand works?"
She scowled. "If the AFA finds out that your medical miracle is really medical intervention, are you still going to have that smug look on your face?"
"It is a medical miracle. I had an excellent surgeon."
"You're sticking to that ludicrous story? Really?" She walked into the bathroom, throwing her top on the floor and wiggling out of her pants. She turned on the water.
"It's what happened. I'm playing Sunday and I want you to be there."
She opened the glass shower door, closing it so there was a barrier between us.
"I might have to pick up a shift on Sunday."
I studied her in the shower. Her beautiful skin glistening under the running water. Her breasts dripping. My favorite slice of heaven between her thighs guiding the water down her legs. I licked my lips.
I reached for the handle, but she stopped me. "No. You're not coming in here."
"Come on, Doc. Stop being so pissed. I just asked you to sit in my box on Sunday. Aren't you going to give me an answer?"
"Right now, I am going to wash my day off of me, and that includes your insane idea to pretend that I don't know the real story behind your recovery. I don't know if I'm more angry that you did it, or more angry that you're lying to my face."
It hit me in the gut. I knew I was a liar. I knew I would cross lines. I crossed them all the time. But to have this woman, who I craved like nothing else, throw it in my face, gave me a jolt of reality. My lies never affected other people, and all of a sudden, I realized they did.
I pressed my palm against the glass. "Enjoy the shower. Dinner will be ready in a few."
I walked out of the bathroom, fighting every instinct I had. The one to take her the way I wanted. The one to break down and tell her the truth. The one that was in the back of my throat: telling her I didn't want to disappoint her.
Sixteen
Lennon
I'd never scrubbed my skin so hard. What in the hell was he thinking? And why hadn't I noticed the past week or longer that his hand was healing faster than any natural process? He wore his sling and acted like it bothered him. He tried to throw me off. That might have pissed me off the most.
I cut the hot water and reached for a towel. In a short amount of time, I had basically moved into Wes's apartment. He had taken one look at my rented extended stay and decided I needed a place with a view, and preferably one with a view of him.
I arrived with an entirely new wardrobe and my own closet. Dating a highly paid quarterback had its advantages. He was a millionaire on top of having a rock hard body and eyes that stirred every impulse under my skin.
And the sex. God, the sex. There was nothing like it. There never had been, and I knew that the day Wes walked out of my life, I'd never have anything like it again. That was the problem. I knew this was temporary. There would be a day when we'd both wake up and realize there was no way we were compatible.
He'd never had a girlfriend before. Why did I think he'd suddenly change now? It was insane to think he wanted commitment and all the things that came with it. I laughed. This was probably the first time he'd had an actual argument with a woman and didn't kick her out. Ben and I fought. That's what regular couples did.
We fought about what movie to watch or whose parents were more annoying. We fought about what shifts we should work, and who should buy groceries. But had we ever fought about an ethical and moral issue? Had Ben and I ever fought about something that mattered like this?
I toweled off my hair, slipped on Wes's jersey and a pair of yoga pants, and trotted off to face him.
I sat on the barstool. He plated a pasta dish and placed it in front of me. "Dinner."
"Smells good." I picked up my wine glass. "We have to finish this discussion. You know that, right?"
"I know that I've said everything I want to say. And I don't expect you to keep questioning me."
I fought back the anger and tried to remind myself he was new at this. "Whatever it is we're doing here, Wes. This thing between us … it's not going to include lies. I'm not compromising on that."
He gripped his fork. "You knew what you were getting into with me. I drink. I gamble. I sleep around. Uh, used to sleep around. I cross lines that have to be crossed so we can win. I do the things that other people don't want to do."