“Jay, it’s not that. Fuck, you were in a crash, and I panicked, okay. Of course I came here.” He waited me out, staying quiet when I wished he’d do his usual nonstop talking. “I needed to make sure you’re all right. Promised your parents I’d look out for you.”
He grimaced. “I bet they’re climbing the walls.”
“They’re worried. I’ll call them soon. Tell them you’re going to have a brain transplant while you’re here. That should make them happy.”
A smirk formed. The familiar smile directed my way eased some of the tightness in my chest. But in doing so caused my heart to flip over, my pulse picking up. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He was okay; it was the only reason my heart pumped faster. Relief that he was all right was the only reason.
It was nothing to do with my memory refusing to let go of the kiss we’d shared. Nor was it how looking at Jayden now nudged me to remember the dreams that refused to disappear. Ones where we reenacted the kiss over and over again.
I could continue to let any of that plague me, which they had done over the past season. I missed the cocky asshole so much, and knowing I could have lost my friend—I couldn’t go there.
“You know, you look constipated with all that thinking you’re doing.”
I rolled my eyes. “That right?”
“You know it.” Jayden glanced down at his hand and opened and closed his palm a couple of times. “You can hold my hand again if you want.” His eyes twinkled.
I met his stare and raised a single brow at him. “In your dreams, wiseass. In. Your. Dreams.”
CHAPTER3
JAYDEN
I hadn’t liedwhen I said Sutton looked like shit. That didn’t stop him from looking so good. Just seeing his face, having him so close, eased a part of my soul that I couldn’t explain. Add that he was talking to me in complete sentences, with only a few of his usual grunts, and I was like an overeager puppy, desperate for any attention he’d give me.
But fuck, I was tired.
Between the pounding in my skull and the occasional dizziness where my sight went fuzzy, it was difficult to concentrate. Plus, there was me drifting off midconversation. Every time I came to, Sutton was staring at me intently, fear etched on his features. And every single time I woke, he was holding my hand.
“What time is it?” I asked around a yawn, my jaw cracking and the stitches on my face pulling.
Sutton mimicked my yawn and unfortunately let go of my hand as he tugged his phone out of his pocket. “Almost seven.”
“You look beat.” Tired eyes stared back at me, a given since his flight from the States brought him straight to me. While I didn’t know what time he’d arrived earlier today, I knew it had been morning. He’d barely left my side since. “Why don’t you head to Ryan’s?”
“No chance. I’m fine here.”
His response rolled through me, relief caressing the edges of my mind. Now that he was here, I didn’t want him to leave. I was a needy asshole at the best of times, but this side of Sutton, where he cared and looked out for me, I liked best.
“You heard from Ryan?” I asked, trying to control my overeager smile that he didn’t want to leave.
He bobbed his head and gave another yawn. “Yeah. He texted about an hour ago and told me to let them know when I was ready to go, and Nate would come and get me. Told him I was fine staying put.”
This time there was no holding back my grin. “Missed me that much, huh?”
I expected a grunt, and he didn’t disappoint. He looked away, though, avoiding eye contact.
Concussion sucked. A broken finger pissed me off. But Sutton appearing here after a season of blowing hot and cold before settling on Arctic temperatures messed up my head in a way my shitty headache from the crash couldn’t process.
Me being… well, me, I grunted loud enough to capture his attention, opened my mouth, and let my inarticulate words tumble free. “If I’d known all it took was a knock to the head and a broken digit to stop you being a dick, I would have made that happen six months ago.” I waited for a beat, my stare on him. The dickstain simply looked at me, his expression impassive. “But apparently, the dick hasn’t fallen off your head completely.”
Aware I was being over-the-top and dramatic, I didn’t have it in me to stop or even care. I wanted a reaction. Needed it like my next breath.
His quirked brow was at least a reaction. Still, the fucker said nothing.
“Yeah, it’s still there on your head. I’m surprised you can carry the weight,” I continued, trying to get a rise from him.
With a bland tone, he said, “My impressive dick size would have most men struggling. Not so much me. I’m used to it.”
