“I ache everywhere,” I confess, surprised to see the sympathetic look on her face. “Especially my ribs.”
“You dislocated a few,” Dad says. “How’s the arm?”
I glance down at my right arm in a black sling. “It hurts a little.”
“The nurse told us they’re going to cast it first thing tomorrow,” Dad says. “Bright neon pink if you want it!”
He’s talking like I’m ten, and I almost roll my eyes, but then I see the concern in his gaze, the weariness in the lines in his face, and I realize I’ve worried them both.
And for some reason, the realization makes me want to cry.
Tears suddenly streaming down my face, I tell him, “I want out of here.”
“Ah, darling, don’t cry.” Mother tries her best to enfold me in her arms, but she bumps against my broken arm, making me cry out in pain, and my ribs are killing me. She finally gives up and pats me on the head like I’m an obedient dog. “The doctor said he thinks you should stay another night. They want to monitor those ribs. Make sure you don’t have any internal bleeding.”
Internal bleeding? That sounds serious.
“You’re not currently bleeding internally,” Father adds as he paces the length of the room. “They just want to make sure.”
“Okay,” I say weakly, glancing down at my arm. Maybe I do want a neon-pink cast. I wonder if Cannon would sign it…
Cannon probably won’t even be able to see me wearing it.
“Where’s Evie and George?” I ask, noting how Mother’s lips thin, but otherwise she doesn’t react to those two names said together.
“They’re somewhere in the hospital,” Dad says, pausing mid-pace. “I think they went to the cafeteria.”
My mind automatically wonders if Evie is trolling for handsome doctors, but then I remember she’s in love with my brother, so I keep that thought to myself. “Is she mad at me for wrecking her car?”
“Mad at you? Of course not,” Mother says with a firm shake of her head. “She was so worried about you. And Priscilla too.”
“Priscilla is fine. They didn’t even keep her overnight. I believe she just got a few bumps and scrapes,” Father says. “You know this.”
Mother says nothing, just shoots my father an irritated look.
“We made George call to check up on her,” Father tells me with a little smile.
Well, that conversation must’ve been awkward.
My parents continue talking, but I’m not really listening, and I don’t think they expect me to. I’m so drowsy, and finally I give in, closing my eyes as I try to focus on their droning voices. They talk for what seems like hours, the sounds merging into each other until I can’t decipher what they’re saying. At one point, I swear I hear other voices—possibly George and Evie have entered the room—but I’m too tired, and my eyelids refuse to lift to see what’s going on.
Instead, I drift off to sleep.
And dream of Cannon coming to see me in my room. He walks in with a giant bouquet, so big and tall I can’t see his face at first, and when he sets the bouquet on a nearby table, I burst into tears at seeing him.
He says those sweet, sexy, vaguely inappropriate words like he does, and I get embarrassed because my parents are still in the room, but I don’t care because he surprises me with a giant diamond ring dangling from his pinky finger and then he’s slipping it on my finger, declaring his love for me in front of my family.
I’ve never felt more alive, or more loved.
So the disappointment is extra sharp when I open my eyes hours later to realize I’m alone in my dark hospital room, no massive bouquets waiting for me, no diamond ring glittering on my finger. Clearly the accident has made me delusional.
Clearly.
I’m bone tired and operating on only a few hours of sleep, and my knee hurts like a bitch. If any of my coaches saw me right now, they’d probably tear me to shreds for walking through this hospital like a man hell-bent on finding the woman of his dreams.
Because that’s who Susanna is. She’s the woman of my dreams. The woman I know I love. Who cares if we barely know each other? Who cares if we’ve only spent a few days together? Those were the most magical days of my life, and when you know…well.
You know.
And I know without a doubt that I love Lady Susanna Sumner.
“Sir! Sir!” A receptionist is yelling at me as I walk past a check-in desk, trying to get me to stop, and I do, because I’m hoping she’ll help me.
“I need to find a patient,” I tell her as I set the bouquet of red roses I got for Susanna in the gift shop on the high counter.
She gazes up at me, her eyes wide, her lips parted. I’m probably scaring her. I’m sure I look like hell. I haven’t shaved in days, I’ve been wearing the same clothes for the last thirty-six hours, and my hair is a mess. I bet I smell too.
Great.
“What’s the patient’s name?” she asks, fingers poised over the computer keyboard in front of her.
“Susanna Sumner.”
The woman types in Susanna’s name, then grabs her mouse and clicks. Then clicks again. She’s chewing on her lower lip, her eyes scanning the screen before her until she finally looks up and meets my gaze. “Sir, I’m afraid it’s too early for visiting hours.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” I glance around, my gaze setting on the plaque nearby that has the visiting hours listed. I check my phone.
Yep. I’m too early.
“It looks to me that Miss Sumner is being released this morning. Are you picking her up?” She tilts her head to the side, and I think she’s trying to tell me something.
“Yes,” I say slowly, and she nods, encouraging me to keep talking. “I’m picking her up, and taking her home.”
“Perfect. She’s in Room 204.” She smiles, but I’m already gone, the vase of roses clutched in my arms, headed down the hallway as fast as my bum knee will take me.
I come to a stop in front of the partially open door and peer inside, but I only see the foot of her bed. Looks like no one else is there, and I’m relieved. I want to her meet her family, but not yet.
I want her all to myself for a little bit first.
Quietly I creep into the room, coming to a complete stop when I see my angel lying in bed. She looks…terrible. There’s a gash across her forehead, her left eye is bruised, a horrific combination of purple and yellow, and her left arm is covered in a hideous neon-pink cast. The hospital bed is propped up and she’s lying there with her eyes closed, her chest slowly rising and falling.
But I see her beneath the wounds and she’s still beautiful. Of course, she is. Seeing her hurt like this reminds me that she’s also incredibly fragile. Something worse could’ve happened to her, something traumatic, life-changing. And I don’t know what I would’ve done if that happened…
“Cannon,” a voice breathes. “You’re actually here.”
Her eyes have popped open and she’s staring at me, like I’m an apparition she dreamed up. I approach her bed, scared to touch her, yet desperate to touch her too.
“I’m here.” I smile at her. “You okay?”
“Why aren’t you at home playing your game?”
I frown. “I can’t. I hurt my knee, remember? Besides, it’s Monday. The game’s over.” And damn it, we lost.
“Oh.” She’s frowning too, glancing down at her arm in the pink cast. “That’s right. I don’t know how I forgot.”
“You’ve been a little preoccupied,” I tease, setting the vase on the table closest to her. “I brought you flowers.”
“Just like my dream.” She smiles, she’s not making much sense, but I’m rolling with it. She’s probably hopped up on meds. Hopefully only mild painkillers, though. “I thought you were still in my dream when I first saw you.”
“Nah, I’m here. Hopped the first plane I could find to get to you.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jogger sweatpants, feeling awkward.
Cautiously, she scoots over on
the mattress, patting the empty spot beside her. “Come here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Please.” Her expression is serious. “I want to touch you. Make sure you’re real.”
I go to her bed and perch myself on the edge of the mattress, careful not to bump into her. Being this close, I can really see the damage the accident did to her. There are little scratches all over her face and neck, a strangely shaped bruise across her collarbone that I’m thinking the seatbelt might’ve caused.
Reaching out, I tentatively touch her hair, pushing it away from her forehead. “My poor baby,” I murmur.
She smiles and closes her eyes, a shuddering breath escaping her. “I’m so glad you’re here. Next to me.”
“You have a black eye.” Leave it up to me to state to the obvious.
“I know, I’m sure I look awful. I feel much better, though. At least my body doesn’t ache everywhere anymore,” she says, her eyes sliding open. “Maybe you should kiss me,” she whispers.
Thank Christ the airline provided me with toothpaste and a toothbrush before I got off the plane. Leaning in, I gently kiss her lips, not wanting to touch her anywhere else.
“You really are here,” she says, her voice soft, her eyes dancing with happiness. “No one makes me tingle with just a kiss like you do, Cannon Whittaker.”
I smile, readjust my position, and grimace with pain. She spots it immediately. “Is it your knee?”
“Yeah,” I grit out, rising back to my feet. “I can’t sit like that for too long. Hurts too damn much.”
“Oh, Cannon.” Her face falls. “I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault.” I shake my head. “It’s worse than I told you, Sus. I need surgery. I can’t play the rest of the season. This injury could—end my career.”
“Oh no, I don’t believe that. You’re too strong to have a knee injury put you out of football forever.” Her firm voice, the determination I hear there, the absolute belief in me, makes my heart, my entire body relax. I didn’t realize I was so damn tense. Just seeing her, hearing her voice, is making me feel better.
“We’ll see,” I tell her, but the doubt isn’t as strong, and I owe it all to her.
She contemplates me, her gaze dropping to the brace wrapped around my knee. “You flew all the way to England to see me? With your knee like that? When you need surgery?”
I nod. “Sure as hell did. Had to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m guessing you’re skipping doctor’s appointments to do this?” She raises her brows, dropping them immediately with a wince.
Bet that hurt.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “I can go see the doctors when I get back home.”
“And when will that be?”
“Not sure. How long do you need me to stay?”
She looks ready to burst, she’s so happy at my words. “However long you can.”
I’m hoping a week. It might be less. Then again, it might be more. Even better, maybe I can convince her to come back with me for a little while.
“Is someone coming to pick you up?” I ask.
Susanna makes a little face. “My parents. They’ll probably be here any minute.”
“So I’m going to meet the dragon lady?” She told me a few choice things about her mother, and how her friend Evie gave her that nickname. She also told me how hard she is on Susanna.
“Actually, she’s been really sweet since I got into the accident. Nothing like a car crash to remind my mother that she needs to get over herself and her exacting standards,” Susanna says sarcastically.
“I’m glad she’s being nicer,” I say, and I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do if my mom and I didn’t get along, though she’s all I got, and I’m all she has. We have to be nice to each other or else we’re all alone in this world, with no real family to anchor us.
“I have so much to tell you.” Susanna’s entire face lights up. “I went to my parents’ house on Saturday with Evie and so many things happened.”
“Tell me about them later, okay? Don’t overexert yourself. We need to get you out of here.” I walk around her room, looking for her belongings, opening a slim door that looks like a closet to find her purse and a small duffel bag sitting inside on the floor. “Is this your stuff?” I call from the closet.
“Probably. Oh.” Her voice changes, becomes a little higher. “Father. Mother. You’ve made it.”
I whip around to see her father walk in, a tall, thin blonde woman following behind him. They don’t even notice me, they’re too focused on their daughter lying in that hospital bed, and I can’t blame them.
She’s become important to me in such a short amount of time, she’s all I can focus on too.
Grabbing her things out of the closet, I shut the door and then turn back around to face them. Her father notices me first, coming to an abrupt stop when his gaze lands on me. “Oh. Your fellow is here, Susanna.”
Another man who states the obvious.
“I had to make sure she’s all right,” I say as I approach him, thrusting my hand out for a shake. “It’s good to see you again, my lord.”
“Please. Enough with the my lord,” her father says, giving my hand a firm shake. “Call me Harwood.”
I chance a look over at Susanna. From the pleased expression on her face, it appears I’ve just made progress. But her father’s not the one I worry about.
It’s her mother.
“Hello,” she says coolly, taking the initiative first. “You must be Cannon.”
“I am.” I’m at a loss. Should I try to shake her hand too, or is that a no-no?
“It’s so very nice to meet you.” She offers her hand and I guess it’s not a no-no, so I shake it.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say warily.
She takes a step back, crossing her arms as she contemplates me. “You must really care about our Susanna if you jumped on a plane and flew all the way here to check on her wellbeing.”
“When I heard she was in a car accident, I had to come and make sure she was okay,” I say.
“Don’t you have a football game to play?” her mother asks.
I point at the brace on my knee. “Hurt myself during practice and got pulled from the game.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” She actually sounds sorry too. “Are you all right?”
“My season is over. I’ll have to have surgery.”
All three of them make the proper sympathetic noises, not that I’m here for their sympathy. I want to focus on Susanna.
“So she’s getting checked out today, right?” I ask her parents.
“I just spoke with the nurse, and she said the doctor should be here soon to sign the release papers. Then she’ll be free to go,” Harwood explains.
“We’ll be bringing her back to our home,” her mother says. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”
“Mother,” Susanna says, causing all of us to turn our attention to her. “Now that Cannon is here, I’d rather go back to my flat.”
Mom and Dad are hardcore frowning. They don’t like this idea one bit.
“Are you sure, Susanna?” her mother asks.
Susanna nods, her gaze locking with mine. “I’m positive. I know Cannon will take proper care of me.”
There are all sorts of things I want to respond to that declaration, and not a one of them is polite. So I clamp my lips shut and nod, hoping I look like a capable enough human being that’s able to take care of Susanna in her time of need.
“Very well then,” her mother says with an irritated sigh. “Though if you need us, you can always call.”
“Of course.” Susanna’s still looking at me, and the curve of her lips is downright irresistible. If we were alone, I’d be kissing her right now.
Maybe it’s good we’re not alone. I need to work on trying to control myself around her. She’s hurt. I’m hurt. We do something crazy, and we’re bound to get hurt even worse. I can’t chance it.
; Sounds like the next few days are going to be rough.
The moment Cannon slides into the driver’s seat of the huge Range Rover he rented and slams the door, I’m practically crowing with pleasure.
“Oh my gosh, you arrived in the nick of time, I swear!” Leaning over very carefully, I brush a kiss on his bristly cheek. He looks exhausted, yet he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, even when he’s tired.
He turns his head, our lips connecting, and just like that we’re kissing. For real. Our lips part and our tongues dance and my entire body is tingling. Yet all he’s doing is kissing me, not touching me anywhere else. Just lips on lips. Tongue on tongue.
I don’t ever want it to stop.
A horn honks and I realize we’re congesting the pickup/drop-off area in front of the hospital. “We should probably go,” I murmur against Cannon’s lips.
“It’s a long drive back to London,” he murmurs in return, kissing one corner of my mouth, then the other.
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “But just think of what we can do when we get to my flat.”
My words seem like a slap of reality. He shifts away from me, puts the car in drive, and pulls out, frowning as he grips the steering wheel. “We’re not doing anything like that for the next few days while you recover, Sus.”
“Seriously?” I sound like a child who’s wailing after her toy got taken away.
“I’m afraid I might hurt you. And my knee is all jacked up,” he mutters, staring straight ahead, his eyes never straying from the road.
I cross my arms and slump in the seat as best I can, but that hurts my ribs tremendously so I eventually straighten out and drop my arms to my sides. God, I can’t even pout correctly. “This is terrible.”
“What’s terrible?”
“Having you so close and not being able to do anything about it.”
He laughs. “It’s good for us. Forces us to get to know each other even better instead of always getting naked.”
“Maybe I like getting naked.”
“Oh, I love getting naked with you, Sus. But not right now, not with your ribs and your arm and all that.” He waves a hand at me, indicating…all of me. “You’re packed in bubble wrap right now. A delicate little flower, too fragile to touch.”
Thinking About You Page 17
