Only One Touch (Only One #4) - Natasha Madison Page 0,14
as all that and just a bit more. “Oh, come on, you had to have noticed how beautiful she is. This is not new information to anyone. Last time she was here, the valet guy tripped and brought her the wrong car.”
“She is beautiful,” I admit out loud to Lizzie, and I wonder why I haven’t noticed before this weekend. Maybe I did notice, but I didn’t want to admit it. It might have just been the fact we were just sitting together as two people at a friend’s party without the stress of going toe-to-toe.
“Celine Dion.” She takes the calendar out of my hand, turning it over to check the pictures on the back. I pick up a wrapped roll, and when I peel the tissue off, it’s a Celine T-shirt. The laughter escapes me. “Do you even like Celine?” Lizzie asks when she spots the T-shirt with Celine’s face.
“I mean, I never really thought about it,” I answer honestly. I take out the last wrapped package, and this time, I throw my head back and belly laugh.
“That’s a whole lot of bling,” Lizzie says of the boss hat in my hand. “You can’t wear that outside in the sun.” I can’t stop laughing at the hat.
It really was a bad decision. I’m about to pick up my phone and call her when it rings. “Hello?” I say in the phone, and I hear the team trainer, Richard.
“Nico.” His voice is low. “There was an accident on the ice.”
I sit up, the hat falling from my hands back into the white box. “What type of injury and who?”
I get up and look over at Lizzie, who is already on her phone, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She grabs her leather folder and zips it closed as she follows me out of my office. “It’s Brendan.” I stop walking. Brendan is one of the top scorers on the team. I got him in a trade with Washington two years ago.
“How bad?” I walk out of the office with Lizzie behind me. I can hear her murmuring to someone on her phone.
“Bad,” he says. “We are on our way to the hospital.”
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, my voice tense.
“He was moving up the ice, and I don’t know what the fuck happened. He must have moved bad or something. He said he heard a pop.”
Pressing the button to the elevator, I ask, “What do you think it is?”
“One of the doctors here thinks it’s his ACL,” he says, and I close my eyes. An ACL can have you out anywhere from six months to a year.
“The plane will be ready in thirty,” Lizzie says from beside me.
“I’ll be flying out in thirty minutes,” I say and rush home to pick up my packed bag. You only have to be stuck without clothes once to always have a bag ready to leave. It takes me ten minutes to get home, and I park right outside the door. I take the elevator up to the third floor instead of the stairs. It might not be faster, but my nerves are all over the place.
Walking into my walk-in closet, I grab the packed black bag and head back downstairs. “I’m ready,” Lizzie says, meeting me in the foyer. My house is huge. It has three floors with a walkway connecting the main house to the two-bedroom apartment over the three-car garage on the other side of the property, which is where she lives. “Any news?”
“He’s getting an MRI right now,” I tell Lizzie as we get into the car taking us to the airport.
We take off as soon as I’m buckled in, and my phone beeps that he is still in with the doctor. We land in Buffalo three hours later, and a SUV is waiting to take us to the hospital.
My finger taps my phone, waiting for it to ring. “No news is good news,” Lizzie says from beside me.
“I hope to fuck it’s not bad news,” I say once we pull up to the hospital. I get out and find Patrick, the team doctor, in the waiting room. “So what’s the verdict?” I ask, and I can see from his eyes it’s not fucking good.
Chapter 7
Becca
I step out of the elevator just after nine in the morning with a Starbucks in one hand and my tan Hermes bag in the other. “Good morning,” I tell the receptionist, who smiles at me.
“I love your look today,” she says. “Very casual chic.”