I looked at the physical therapist expectantly. “So, what do you think?”

“I’d say it’s a miracle. I’ve never had a player recover from surgery so quickly.” He looked at my right hand in awe.

I balled it into a fist and wiggled each finger.

I grabbed a football from a basket in the corner and spun it in my hand. “Catch,” I called as I tossed it to him.

He bobbled the catch, but laughed. “You had surgery two and a half weeks ago?”

I nodded. I didn’t want to draw attention to the timeline. The rapid recovery would sound better if it weren’t so damn rapid. But it was what I needed. I had three days until the next game, and I needed medical clearance and my starting spot back.

“So you ready to sign off on me?” I looked at him.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll sign off. But the AFA needs your doctor’s signature too.”

“I know. Dr. Evans. I’ll get it by today.” The old man would want a few signed autographs for the family and maybe a few tickets to the game. But he would sign. My hand was practically back to a hundred percent. There was no reason to keep me out of the game.

“Keep up with those exercises I showed you.”

“No problem.” I had been keeping up with my running regimen and doing double duty on the physical therapy. I had pushed myself beyond the physical limits I had been told, but I proved them all wrong. My hand was ready for touchdown passes and spirals that would wow the crowd.

I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Thanks,” I called out.

Once I got Dr. Evans’s signature, I could get back to practice, and Cosech could sit his ass on the bench where it belonged. The hospital was my next stop.

* * *

I tapped on the nurses’ station. “Hey, there.” I grinned.

The nurse behind the counter looked flustered when she recognized me. “Oh my God. Wes Blakefield.”

“Yep.” I leaned my elbows on the surface.

“Are you here to see Dr. Ashworth?” She raised her eyebrows with a knowing look. Lennon and I had made it in the headlines. According to the press, we were practically engaged. Amazing what dating the same woman for two weeks could do for the gossip reporters. They acted like I was a tamed lion. Hardly.

“Not this time. I need to see Dr. Evans about my paperwork.” Although I wouldn’t leave the hospital without seeing if Lennon was available. I knew she was in surgery most of the day.

“Of course. He is your doctor.” She typed something into the computer. “Looks like he’s in between patients. I’ll page him.”

I waited at the desk. A few seconds later, the white-haired man popped out of a lounge.

“There’s our quarterback!” He beamed.

“Yep. And I brought you a few things.” I held up a pair of tickets to Sunday’s game and a signed jersey. Just wanted to thank you.”

“That’s not…” He took the gifts. “Tickets? My wife will be pleased with me.” He laughed. “I hear you need some kind of paperwork for the AFA.”

“Yes. If you could sign off on that last set of documents, I’ll be waving to you from the field Sunday.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Maybe we should find an exam room.” He looked at the nurse.

“Oh, you can go in three.” She pointed.

I followed the man and waited to show him my miraculous recovery.

“Let’s take a look here.” He peered at my hand. “Can you make a fist?”

I did as he asked.

“Can you tap each finger to the center of my palm?”

I followed the next instruction.

He turned my hand over. “Any pain?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, I have to say, Dr. Ashworth is an amazing surgeon. I’ve never seen a recovery like this.”

I grinned. “She is pretty amazing.”

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.