Chapter 36

I pack my bag quietly and refuse to look at Bryce, who’s lying on his bed watching me.

“You shouldn’t give the silent treatment to an injured man.”

“How would you react if I was kicking you out of my apartment?”

“I’m not kicking you out. I’m insisting you go back to school for the one week until spring break.”

“I don’t want to. What happens if you need me?”

“Baby, it’s not a question of needing you. I’ll always need you. But school is important.”

I toss my sweater on top of my bag and decide to try one more time for him to come with me. “Come with me.”

“You know I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

“Ugh!” I throw my hands in the air and swing my head to him. “You are infuriating. Absolutely, one-hundred percent, off the wall maddening! I can’t believe you’re going back so soon!”

“Devon, get over here.”

I stumble across the room and sit between his legs, facing him.

“Do we need to go over this again?”

“Will it convince you to stay home and rest?”

“No.”

I slump my shoulders in defeat. As hard as I try, this is an argument I can’t win. Bryce was released from the hospital three days after he woke up with instructions to rest for another full week. All bruising was almost gone, and his brain was fine and functioning. He was given strict orders to restrict movement and keep his arm in the brace to help the collarbone heal. Otherwise, he was fine.

I personally was amazed that there wasn’t more concern regarding his recovery. But after speaking to three separate doctors, I was finally convinced Bryce was going to be fine. Apparently, the seven days he was out helped heal his brain.

Our parents stayed for a few days after he was released but went back a few days ago, leaving me in charge. Sheila and I talk at least four times a day, which drives Bryce crazy. He says we’re acting like lunatics because he’s fine. In actuality, things are mostly back to normal. He’s going to work on light duty tomorrow. I still hate leaving him.

“What happens when you need help with your brace?” I point to his shoulder. “That always gives you trouble.”

“Nate can help me.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me leave.”

“You’re looking at it the wrong way. I’m sending you back to catch up for the weeks you’ve been gone. It’s important to me that you get back into a routine.”

I position myself to his uninjured side and lie on his chest. “I’m scared,” I admit.

“I know, but you’ll be back in five days. Surely I can survive.”

We stay silent for a few minutes, him running his lips along my forehead.

“My heart broke every day in that hospital that I couldn’t wake up and comfort you. The sound of devastation and fear in your voice still haunts me. Some things are hazy, but others, I’ll never forget. My parents begging me to wake up, Nate gripping my hand and telling me I had to pull through, your crying as you tried to fall asleep—all of those things.”

“What was it like?” I ask cautiously. Bryce has been very quiet about the days he was unconscious.

“It’s hard to explain. There’s a lot of time I can’t account for. It seemed like one second you would be talking to me, and the next thing I knew, Dad was reading a sports article. Everything found a way to mesh together. Some specific moments stand out.”

“Which moments?” I pry, curious.

“There are two that run through my mind constantly. One was when Liza visited. Her words are scrambled, but I’m pretty sure I heard the sound of skin slapping. Then things went dark. The next thing I know, Nate’s calling you Manny Pacquiao.”

“Oh my God! I wanted to kill her.”

“When Nate explained to me what she’d done and her justification, I closed my eyes and pictured you hitting her.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about her?”

“Nothing. She’s gone. New orders start tomorrow. Dani told Nate she’s gone.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know and don’t care.”

“That was really quick.”

“Navy doesn’t fuck around.”

I snuggle closer to him, soaking in his closeness and the knowledge that she’s out of our life for good.

“Tell me the second moment that runs through your head.”

“The second you slipped this ring on my finger. The metal touched my skin, and I started to wake up. The beeping became clearer, your touch became warmer, and the kiss against my hand sent a jolt of energy through me.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Can you remember what I said?”

“Not really. Why don’t you repeat it for me now?”

I shake my head and twist the ring on his finger. “I’m not sure if I can repeat it but know that I love you.”

“I’ll take that for now. How about showing me how much you love me before you leave. My body needs to release some of this pent up ‘sexual frustration’.” He jerks his hips toward my thigh and places my hand on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Nope.” I back away, grinning wickedly. “Doctor said two weeks.”

“You are NOT going to listen to him, are you?”

“Maybe, if you let me stay, I could be persuaded to break the rules.”

“Sexual blackmail? That’s what you’ve resorted to?”

“If it works, why not?”

“You sure about that?” He slides his hand up my side until it grazes the underside of my breast. “How about a little taste?”

My body curves into him, begging to be touched. He leans down and kisses along my jawline until I moan. His hand slides along my stomach and slips under the waistband of my pants, then he stops and leans his forehead against mine.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Me?” I ask innocently. “Why would you ask that?”

“Where the hell are your panties?”

“Did I forget to put them on?”

He growls and rubs his thumb in circles around my clit, never touching. I follow his earlier movements and slip my hand under his sweatpants; his dick jumping at my touch.

We tease each other with small touches, waiting for the other to give in.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I whisper against his neck and scrape my nail across his crown lightly. “I stay tonight, leave in the morning, and we’ll see if you can convince me to break the doctor’s orders.”

He leans back, and the heated hunger in his stare tells me I’ve won.

“You don’t fight fair, but I’ll fold. As much as I hate to admit it, my movements are restricted. You’re in charge.”

I lick my lips and scoot away, lifting my shirt over my head. “I think I can handle being in charge.”

His eyes widen and then rake over my chest. “Somehow, I get the impression you had this planned.”

“I’ll deny ‘til I die.” I giggle and watch his lips tip into a sideways grin.

“Now, I have about eighteen hours to convince you to stay home and rest this week. I’d better get to work.”

“Not going to happen, but it’ll be fun to see you try.”

“Famous last words, Bryce Randolph.” I straddle him and grind our hips together until he groans.

I mentally pat myself on the back. He doesn’t stand a chance.

Getting back into a routine takes a day. It’s amazing how much has happened in the last few weeks, but when I get home, nothing’s changed. Thanks to my friends and classmates, all my assignments are caught up and projects on time.

After spring break, we have seven weeks until graduation. Quinn and I were officially accepted into the MFA program last night, so tonight, we’re celebrating with the others who received the same news.

The bar is packed for a Thursday when we arrive and spot our group in the back corner. No one specifically questions me about Bryce, but they all give encouraging smiles, followed by rounds of shots.

By ten o’clock, I’m feeling no pain and finally letting the stress go. Quinn takes charge, sending a text to Bryce. His reply is not surprising.

Bryce: Take care of my girl. Buy a round on me. Devon has my card.

She obeys and orders drinks for the whole table. The conversation shifts to simple things, like summer plans, next year’s program, and professors we’re scared of.

We all freeze when the waitress walks up with another round, saying it was called in from Professor Henry Grant and his wife, Shana Willis Grant. She wanted to congratulate everyone.

Cheers erupt around the table. Quinn shoots her a quick text, thanking her.

I clink bottles with Eric, Crystal, and Kenny in celebration of our accomplishments. After all I’ve gone through the last few weeks, I deserve this.

Sometime during the night, Quinn and I send a video to Bryce and Dean, singing an obnoxious version of “Marry Me” by Jason Derulo.

The message I get back sends my heart racing.

Bryce: I already married you. It’s your turn to marry me.