just had no focus. After the injury, even the simplest tasks required more concentration to do right. It took discipline. A set schedule. A solid routine and daily expectations.
Sleeping with one of my best friends was not a key to my recovery.
I showered off the toothpaste in the guest bath so Rory could have a couple moments of privacy.
And so she wouldn’t realize how fucked up my head had gotten.
The time apart was good. It gave me a chance to think. Away from her scent. Her warmth. The memory of her panted breaths, whispered words, and whimpered pleasure.
No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how great the night, I couldn’t take advantage of a friend in need. She came to me once. I wasn’t going to ask for another gift like last night.
Not unless she asked me first.
Rory rushed to get dressed and dried her hair. She made a pony tail and met me at the door, gnawing at her lip as I grabbed the keys.
“Thank you,” she said.
Any man, even those cleared of head injuries, would have been cautious with his response. “For what?”
Her eyes darted away, the dark mystery a puzzle for another day. She looked towards my bedroom.
“For this,” she said.
“No problem, doc.”
She followed me to the elevator, her voice low. “It’s a little…scary.”
I tensed. “What’s so scary?”
“I know what can go wrong.”
I didn’t know what we were talking about, but it didn’t matter. “Nothing will go wrong as long as I’m here. Got me?”
“I just always get nervous to hear the heartbeat. I can’t imagine what we’re gonna see.”
Heartbeat?
The memory faded back in.
Her sonogram.
How the hell did I forget something so important?
I took her hand, holding it until I had to let her go to get into the Jeep. “Nothing is wrong. You’re doing great. Everyone is perfectly healthy.”
She rubbed her tummy as I started the Jeep and pulled from the garage. Her hand fit over the tiny bump, and it rested there for most of the ride.
“What are you wishing for now?” I asked.
“What?”
“You’re rubbing the lamp again,” I said. “First wish was to keep your fellowship. That came true. What’s the next wish?”
She looked away, a sweet, shy smile tracing her features. “I can’t say.”
“Why?”
“Because it already came true.”
“What did?”
“Last night.”
This woman would be the death of me.
“Those are some powerful wishes,” I said. “Better be careful.”
“Why?”
“Because I might make one too.”
“You won’t have to.”
“Why not?”
Rory curled her hand in mine. “I don’t think my wish is over yet.”
I liked hearing it, but this wasn’t right. I wanted Rory, but the baby, her family, Eric’s reaction, and my feelings made everything harder than it had to be. She was beautiful. Sweet. Such a perfect companion that ever minute she shared with me in my home only made me realize how lonely I’d become.
I didn’t think our pretend arrangement would get this out of control. The riskier it became, the simpler the solution—stay away.
But it’d be easier to walk away from football than Rory.
Rory’s appointment was in the clinic attached to the hospital. We waited a few minutes before the nurse called her back.
She stood. I didn’t.
And her eyes widened with a hint of fear.
Who could leave her in a time like this?
“Want me there?” I asked.
“Only if you want to.”
That wasn’t the answer I wanted, but I knew what I had to do. I took her hand. “Lead the way.”
And that’s when my day went from great to fucking weird.
I’d woken up next to a naked woman, but the examination room had more vaginas than a strip club after a playoff victory.
Some were dissected. Some models. Some were pushing things out that didn’t seem physically possible.
This wasn’t a miracle of life—it was a freak show that made Alien look like a documentary.
“What’s the matter?” Rory folded and unfolded her hands over her bump. “Uncomfortable?”
“No. This is…beautiful.”
Did that mannequin’s pussy have real hair? What kind of Stephen King mutant bullshit where they hiding in these offices?
“You look uncomfortable,” Rory said.
“No, I’m just…not used to all these…” I didn’t mean to smack the wayward mannequin’s cut-away breasts. “Glands.”
“I really appreciate you waiting with me.”
“And I’ll thank you to never, ever tell me exactly what is happening…” I pointed to the plastic mold of ovaries or tentacles or something equally horrifying. “Inside there. Let me think pregnancy is gumdrops and fairies and storks.”
“It’s more mucus, fluids, and smooshed organs.”
“That’s…” I shuddered. “Fantastic.”
Rory’s mood swung the wrong way. Her lip trembled. “I’m sorry if my insides are