Roman (Raleigh Raptors #2) - Samantha Whiskey Page 0,71

to get a good look at your scans,” Doc Overton added in. “We’re not taking any chances with you.”

“Or my millions-of-dollars-legs?” I quipped sarcastically.

“It’s your brain we’re mostly worried about, smart ass,” he retorted with a grin. “At least your sense of humor didn’t get knocked out of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Overnight stay. Look at my scans. You want me to hydrate, answer questions about current events, and prove I didn’t get a screw loosened on that field. Been here, done this.” I gave a thumbs-up, cringing as pain shot down my side.

“You got it. We’ll give you guys a few minutes,” Doc Overton said softly, his gaze darting to Teagan. “After that, you’re up for a full course of poking and prodding.”

“Noted.”

The docs and nurses cleared out, leaving me alone with Teagan. Luckily, they’d lowered the lights a little on the way out, easing the throbbing in my head.

“I’m so sorry!” Teagan sobbed, her shoulders hunching inward.

“What?” I let loose a laugh. She’d had the same exact reaction when I’d taken a hit our freshman year in high school, swearing she’d distracted me by calling my name too loudly, and claiming it was her fault. “T, baby. Come here.”

I gritted my teeth and forced my body over, using the power in my legs and narrowly avoiding the bedrail against my left side. Then I pulled on her hand, tugging her into my arms.

She reluctantly climbed into bed, curling against my good side, and nestling her head on my shoulder. “He hit you so hard,” she said so quietly I barely heard her.

“It happens.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead and breathed in her scent. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

She sucked in a shaky breath.

“Teagan. This is hardly the worst hit I’ve taken, and having you here, tucked up against me in my jersey, wearing my ring—trust me, you’re the best painkiller there is.” I stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“I love you.” It sounded more like a plea than a declaration.

“And I love you.” I kissed her head again. “Baby, I’m okay. I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t the last time you’re going to see me like this,” I chuckled softly, hoping it would break a little of the tension locking her muscles up.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered as two short knocks sounded at the door.

Coach Goodman didn’t wait for the okay, he simply barged in, worry lining his eyes. “They said you were awake, but I wanted to see for myself.”

“I’m fine, Coach.” I locked my arm around Teagan’s side when she tried to move. She wasn’t going anywhere, not as shaken as she was.

“Good, because the boys are here, demanding to see you.” He stepped aside, allowing Nixon and Hendrix to storm in.

“Damn, are you okay?” Nixon asked, his forehead puckered as he folded his arms across his chest. The guy didn’t mess around with concussions. His little brother had never woken up from one.

“I’m fine, I swear,” I promised him.

His jaw ticked in response.

Teagan eased out of my arms. Damn it, I wasn’t about to manhandle her into staying. She’d had enough of that.

Hendrix’s gaze darted between Nixon and me, well aware of Nixon’s past. “You should see the playback. Guy came at you like a fucking wrecking ball. How awesome is the bruising on your ribs?”

Leave it to Hendrix to change the subject. He reached for my gown, and Nixon slapped his hand. “Hey, don’t you know it’s not polite to undress a man without his permission?”

“It’s nothing we haven’t seen. It’s not like he’s shy around the locker room or needs his own shower for…privacy.” Hendrix lifted his eyebrows.

I laughed, and fuck me it hurt.

Teagan slipped off the bed. “I’m going to round up some Jello…or something.” She forced a smile and pretty much ran.

“She freaked, man,” Hendrix said softly. “At the stadium, when they carried you off, she freaked.”

“She’s always worried when shit like this has happened before.” I shrugged it off and reached for the water on the side table. “We’ve just never been together when it happened.”

“She sure as fuck didn’t scream at the docs to let her in the ambulance when Baker got hit against Dallas,” Nixon argued. “You should have seen Overton’s face. When she told him you were hers.”

“Well, she loves me more than she loved Baker, I guess.” That brought a tiny grin of possession to my face. Did I want Teagan to worry? Of course