Page 67 of Second Go-Round
“I-I’m not sure?” I’d never felt that kind of emotion before, had only seen it with him and Mom.
A flicker of sorrow slithered through my chest at the memory of her same as it always did, but thoughts of Jarod, of how much I longed for him, overshadowed the hurt.
“Maybe,” I amended my answer, but that didn’t feel quite right either. “Want him. Need him.”
Dad’s slow smile and the welling of more tears shouldn’t have made me happy. “Take it from a man who had been blessed with two decades of being with my soulmate—you do love that boy, and I couldn’t be happier.”
I owed Jarod my life, and even more importantly, I did want him to share in whatever days I had left. Better to have loved and lost…
I finally understood what Dad had meant when talking about Mom.
“You better like him,” I whispered, peering over at my dad with as much seriousness as I could muster, “because I’m not pushing this one away.”
“He seems like a nice young man,” Dad said, lifting a water bottle with a built-in straw to my lips. “He was by your side when I got here, and if it weren’t for my insisting he go home and clean up, would probably still be sitting here holding your hand.”
Ice water slid down my parched throat, and I smacked my lips, humming over its deliciousness. “How bad is my leg?” I asked as Dad set the water on the table beside him.
“It’s pretty banged up but will be fine. They had taken you straight into surgery. If that broken wall hadn’t trapped your thigh, you would have bled out,” he said, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.
“Shit.”
“You might need another surgery, but at least they gave us assurance you won’t lose your leg.”
“I’m breathing—that’s all that matters.”
Dad made a noise of agreement. “The doctor said you’ll be on morphine for another day or two, but once you’re discharged, they’ll put you on something milder so you won’t be so loopy.”
It felt like a good buzz, numb teeth and lips included. Better than the few seconds of sheer agony I’d experienced while being pulled from the rubble.
“When can I get back to work? Can I still go to next week’s game?”
Dad chuckled. “One day at a time, kiddo.”
“M’kay.” A sigh shuddered down my body.
“Cold?” he asked, tugging a bleach-scented blanket up beneath my chin.
“No.”
“Why don’t you rest now, sweetheart,” Dad said and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to head home for the night and come back in the morning.”
“G’night,” I managed before morphine-induced sleep rolled over my brain, tugging me into a darkness I didn’t need to fear.
Warmth encased my right side. Citrus and spice filled my nose, hot breath fanned my cheek.
I opened my eyes and turned my head slightly to take in the man tucked into the narrow hospital bed beside me. Bed rails kept us plastered together.
A scratch lined Jarod’s bruised cheekbone above a couple of days’ worth of scruff, but I’d never seen anyone so damn fine in all my life.
“Hey,” I said, tingles racing through my blood and waking my brain and body more than it had been in…hours? Days?
He smiled, erasing the tiredness from his eyes even though dark circles lay beneath them. “Hey back,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles over my cheek.
“You okay?” I asked.
“My entire body hurts but nothing serious,” he replied.
I smoothed back his mussed hair with a hand stuck by an IV line and covered in tape. Even exhausted, Jarod was hella hot. Beautiful—heart-achingly so. How…why had I denied the connection between us? I’d been given a second chance to live life to the fullest, and I wasn’t going to waste another second.
