Boxer

“My damn head hasn’t hurt this bad since college,” I moan. Someone’s thrown me into a hospital bed, and I’ve got some beeps and buzzes and lights peering at me. “I’m alive, I’m fine. Let me out of here.”

“Soon enough,” Duke growls. “Stop being a princess and sit still.”

I listen to his voice; I’m used to following orders from Duke. He has a no bullshit policy, and it has never led me astray.

The doctors and nurses finish up whatever they’re doing, and I motion Duke over. While he approaches, I glance behind him. Through the door, I can see the shiny helmet that’s Andy Rumpert’s greasy hair, and the image makes me want to vomit. Or maybe that’s the concussion.

“Why the hell did you let them bring me to the hospital?” I ask. “I’m fine. You know I’m fine.”

“Red tape,” Duke snarks. “Give them a few more hours, and I’ll personally drive you home.”

“My car?”

“At the rink.”

“Great.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure there’s someone who’ll be happy to drive you back when you’re not cross-eyed.”

There’s an ache inside that has nothing to do with my injuries at his insinuation. “Is she here?”

“No.”

A hot flash of anger burns through me, along with a shred of hurt, but my reaction is interrupted as the doctor whisks me away for a few more exams. They poke and prod and whatever they do, while the only thing I can do is to sit and think.

Where is Jocelyn?

By the time I manage to free myself from the hospital, it’s nearly morning. Save for a lingering dullness in my head and some instructions to take things easy for a few weeks—yeah, right—I’m free as a bird.

Duke pulls the car up to the hospital door, and as I slide into the passenger seat, he shoots me a questioning glance. “Did you figure it out in there?”

“Jocelyn? Yes.”

“Good. Don’t fuck this one up.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

“I’m serious, she’s a keeper.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Duke raises his eyebrow in response, and that’s the rest of our conversation for the duration of the car ride. When we pull up in front of my house, I thank him and slide out.

“Hey,” Duke says. “Congratulations. I want an invitation to your big day.”

I shake my head, a smile toying on my lips, but it’s too painful to continue, so I stop.

Duke pulls away from the curb, his old sports car too loud for my neighborhood at this time of night. Either that, or it’s my head—hard to say. I’m just glad to be home.

The door creaks open to the darkened house. It’s nearly five in the morning. Marie had planned to stay over in the guest bedroom, but I’d told her that if Jocelyn beat me home, she could take off early.

I duck back outside to check the hiding spot underneath the potted plant, but the key’s still there. Either Marie let Jocelyn inside, or I was wrong, and she’s not here at all.

I ease through the front door, not bothering to turn on the lights as I head straight to the staircase. Up I go, peeking into the open door of the guest bedroom as I pass it. Nothing, not even a ruffle on the bed.

I continue on, my heart thumping loud enough to wake the dead as I reach Charli’s room. Her room is always my first stop when I come home late from a game.

I push open the door, as quietly as possible, and there is the answer to all of my questions. Jocelyn is curled on the bed with Charli, both of them fast asleep. Charli’s little arms are wrapped tight around Joss’s neck, her lips turned into a little pout.

Charli’s curls bounce across Jocelyn’s blonde strands, the two intermingling on the pillow, straight mixed with curly. I take a step into the room to watch them both for a long second, my heart constricting until it might very well explode.

Whatever love I’d confessed for her this weekend in New York seems already small, insignificant to what I’m feeling now. I want more than anything to tuck her in my arms and carry her to bed with me. To be mine, forever.

But I can’t possibly break up the sleeping beauties, not when their faces look so peaceful. Surely they’re dreaming of fairytales, of long-haired maidens dropping their hair out tower windows.

I take one step back, but I’m so intent on watching them sleep that I miss the squeaky floorboard, and under my weight, it sounds like the house is breaking in half.

Charli hardly stirs, but Jocelyn’s eyes fly open, and she brings a hand to her forehead, brushing hair back from her face.

“What? I...where—oh.” She glances first at Charli, then at me. “Boxer, oh, I’m so sorry. I hope you don’t mind I came here—”

“Come with me.” I extend my hand, clasp her soft fingers in mine. “Please.”

I guide her through the house, feeling like a ghost of myself, until we reach the bedroom door. Pushing it open, I lead her into the room and pause, letting her scan the surroundings, her vision adjusting to the bright room washed with moonlight.

“How are you? Your head, your injury.” She presses me into the room without a second thought, urging me onto the bed. Her hands stroke through my hair, her fingers cool and gentle, and it feels glorious. “I came here because I figured Charli would be worried, and you’d wanted me to relieve Marie, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t be at the hospital for you.”

“No, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

She inhales a breath and glances at the open door. I’m trying to tug her in for a kiss, but she’s hesitant. “Charli.”

I solve that problem by sliding out from under Jocelyn and locking the door.

“But your injury,” she says.

“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’ve had worse.”

“You need rest.”

“No,” I rest a hand on her shoulder. “I need you. Stay here tonight?”

“Of course, but—”

“Stop,” I tell her. “Whatever you were going to say can wait.”

“But—”

“It can wait.”

“You’re injured,” she says again, stroking her hand across my face.

“Not so injured that I don’t want you.”

“Believe me, I want you too.” She pauses for a tender moment. “But for now, let’s just be together.”

I groan aloud, but I know she’s right. So I settle for tugging on the yellow fabric fluttering high on her thigh. “By the way, you looked beautiful in the stands tonight. I love this dress on you.”

“It doesn’t look silly?”

I close my eyes for a long moment. “Silly? You never look silly. Stunning, perfect, feminine, maybe. Never silly.”

“Do you have a t-shirt or something I could borrow? I didn’t know if packing an overnight bag would be presumptuous.”

I move to my closet and pull out an extra-large t-shirt that’s old enough to be worn soft. “Will this work?”

“Thank you.”

“If I had my say, you could just put that overnight bag in my closet and let it stay,” I tell her. “You could even stay here with it.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?”

I give what I think is a seductive one shoulder shrug, but I probably look like an idiot. “If that’s not too forward.”

She strips out of her yellow dress, turning half sideways, as if that would do anything to keep my eyes off her. At my sharp inhalation of breath, she shoots a flirtatious smile in my direction that has me shedding clothes like I’m on fire.

“You’re injured!” She tells me for the umpteenth time. Then she looks down, and her mouth parts in surprise. “Jesus, Boxer. You just walked out of the hospital.”

“You have a way of making me crazy.”

“Wait. Before anything else, I have something to show you.”

I blink in surprise. “Show me?”

“Yes,” she says. “I promised you I’d take care of things, and I need an opinion.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” Her fingers shake as she tugs my shirt onto her body. “Tonight.”

I harden just seeing her in my clothes. I never want her to leave them. Or me. Or this house. To be here together, forever, is a dream.

“Okay,” I agree. “But I can’t possibly imagine what’s more important than this.”

When she blinks, confused, I finally pull her into my arms. The scent of her holds me hostage there, captive, and I plan on staying still until she pushes me away.

My fingers explore underneath the edge of her shirt, her soft bottom the perfect fit for my hands. Then I tease upward, playing with the edge of the lace panties. It’s like a treasure chest just waiting to be opened.

“Boxer,” she says, once my fingers begin to dance under the edges. “I have something to show you.”

“Right.” I clear my throat and pretend I’m not about to explode like a firecracker. “Business, then pleasure.”

She smiles up at me. “If it weren’t important, I wouldn’t bother you with it now, but it’s time sensitive.”

“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll behave. But for the record, in this house, we eat dessert first. Then business.”

Her cheeks go pink, and she looks down at her hands. “Well, I think that sounds perfectly un-backwards.”

“While you run downstairs, I’m going to jump in the shower quickly.” I lean in, kiss her gently on the cheek. “And then you can show me whatever it is you have to show me.”