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.