Delay of Game (24 page)

Cam got the blanket and unfolded it, bringing it across to me. I didn’t want him to put it on me. I wanted to stay mad at him and not let him do kind things for me, but I couldn’t move right now so I couldn’t very well stop him. He carefully placed it over me, loosely, not tucking it in this time so he wouldn’t hurt my ribs.

Despite myself, I murmured, “Thank you.”

Cam just nodded and went back to the corner, standing and staring.

In all my anger, one thing was still really bothering me. “Why would it be your job to be in here with me?”

He stared a long time, so long I thought maybe he was just going to do the silent caveman staring thing and not answer me at all. But then he shrugged. “Because now I’m going to be your family.”

TWO CRACKED RIBS
, a concussion, more than a dozen stitches placed in three different spots, plus more minor cuts and bruises than anyone was going to attempt to document. All of that combined to make me feel like a freaking hockey player. Then I wondered why the hell hockey players kept going back for more if this was how they felt. I don’t think I had ever hurt so much before in my entire life. Maybe if you added up all the hurts I could remember and threw them all at me at once—maybe then. But otherwise, not so much.

The good news was that there was nothing so badly wrong with me that the doctors felt the need to admit me. I was going to go home. The better news was that they sent me with a prescription for painkillers that they said would be safe for the baby, and they’d given me a dose of it intravenously before discharging me. That had helped tremendously, but I still hurt all over.

All signs pointed to everything being fine with the pregnancy, but they told me to take it easy for the next few weeks, not to overexert myself, and that if anything unusual happened, I should go see my OB-GYN as soon as possible.

That was all well and good except I didn’t know how I was going to manage to take it easy. Daddy had just had heart surgery, and he was due to be discharged tomorrow. I was supposed to be the one taking care of him…and he
definitely
wasn’t going to be able to take care of me. The two of us made quite a pair.

The meeting I’d had with his doctors before the wreck today had made it abundantly clear to me just how much assistance he was going to need in order to get through daily life. Even simple things like getting up from a chair were going to be hard for him. He wasn’t supposed to lift anything that weighed more than five pounds. He needed to get up and walk several times a day, but he couldn’t do it alone. I was supposed to be the one right there with him in case he needed someone to lean on, but how could he lean on me now that I had cracked ribs?

At least I’d only cracked them, and they weren’t fully broken. I couldn’t even imagine the pain of that right now. Anything worse than this seemed impossible.

They’d allowed Daddy to come in to see me for a few minutes earlier, an orderly pushing him in a wheelchair. He hadn’t stayed long—really only long enough to see that yes, I would be all right, and to tell me that he loved me and he’d see me tomorrow—before they’d taken him back to his room because he needed to rest. Simply sitting upright as long as he had today, not to mention worrying about me, had nearly done him in. How was I ever going to manage this?

All of that was running through my head while the doctors delivered
my
aftercare instructions. It was probably a good thing that Cam was listening, even though I really wanted to kick him out of my room, because I sure as hell wasn’t taking any of it in. Especially not now that my medication had kicked in, dulling not only my pain but also my ability to pay attention.

Cam excused himself after they were done giving the instructions. “I’ll go tell everyone in the waiting room what’s going on,” he said.

I let myself breathe—really, truly breathe—for the first time in hours once he was gone. He’d stolen my breath from me the moment he’d told me he was going to be my family. Fuck that. Daddy was my family. I didn’t want Cam Fucking Johnson to be my family. I wanted him to stop being so damn nice and let me really be angry at him. But he wouldn’t.

The nurse removed my IV and helped me to change into some clothes that Dana had picked up from my house earlier. The ones I’d been wearing when they brought me here were spotted with blood from all my cuts. Not really something I wanted to wear out of here. When the nurse was done with me, an orderly helped me ease down onto a wheelchair so he could take me out. Only I didn’t know how I was going to get home. My car was totaled. I didn’t think I could drive, anyway, with the way I was feeling. Probably a bad idea after the pain meds, too.

He wheeled me to the hospital entrance, and Cam was waiting there for me in the drive, standing beside his enormous truck. I supposed a couple of the guys must have gone to get it while he was with me, since he’d come to the hospital in the ambulance when they’d brought me in.

He was the last person I wanted to see right now. He’d hardly left my side the whole time I had been in the emergency room, and he just kept taking care of me, making sure I had everything I needed and being so fucking perfect I would have punched him if I didn’t hurt so much everywhere. Punching him would be a colossally bad idea, anyway. He was as hard as cast iron. I’d probably break my hand if I tried it, which wouldn’t feel very good considering I’d already busted some ribs.

And here he was again, being nice to me. Behaving thoughtfully. Acting completely sensible and rational, and fucking with all the ideas I had in my head about him.

He opened the passenger-side door and held out a hand to help me from the wheelchair. The last thing in the world I wanted to do right then was take his hand, but with the way my ribs hurt, I didn’t know if I could get up on my own.

That didn’t stop me from trying.

The orderly locked the wheels of my chair, and I set my feet down on the concrete sidewalk, trying to get my bearings. I attempted to push myself up, pressing down on the arms of the wheelchair, but it hurt so much I almost started crying.

Cam moved toward me, taking my left hand in his and putting his other arm around my waist—on the opposite side of the broken ribs—practically lifting me to my feet. “It’ll probably be easier to get you in the truck if you let me pick you up,” he said.

I blinked and nodded. As painful as it had been simply trying to stand up, there was no way in hell I was going to be able to pull myself up into that monstrosity right now. It would pull on my ribs and stretch my torso, and I just didn’t think I could do it. Not with the way doing something as simple as breathing made it feel like someone was jabbing a fork between my ribs from the inside.

In no time, he had me up in the air and was placing me gingerly on the seat, always careful of my ribs. “I’m pretty sure it’ll hurt to wear the seat belt, but you’ve got to. Just until we get you home.” Before I could brace myself against the pain of attempting to fasten it myself, Cam had pulled the belt out and reached around me, securing it in place. He barely touched me at all in the process, and when he had it latched, he eased it until it was snug against me. “Too tight?” he asked.

Yes
, I thought to myself, but there was nothing he could do about that. Anything touching my torso right now, anything at all, was too much. I shook my head, biting down on my tongue against the pain.

He kissed the end of my nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, as though he could read my thoughts. “I’ll get you home as soon as I can. It won’t hurt for too long.”

He didn’t try to force me to talk on the way there. That was a good thing, since talking would require breathing, and breathing hurt like a son of a bitch. I was doing everything I could to avoid as much of that particular activity as possible.

“Your friends all worked out some plans to help while you were with the doctors,” he said when we were about halfway to my house. I twisted my head so I could look at him. “Laura and your dad were spearheading it. Most of them left ahead of us so they could get to your house and get things ready.”

“What things?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I was with you. I just know that your dad told me I was welcome to stay with you guys while the team’s in town. So I can be close to you. So I can help you. And he said Buster could stay, too.”

“Daddy hates dogs.” I don’t know why I said that when what I should have said was something along the lines of,
Why the hell are you all making decisions about me and what I need without bothering to consult me?
or,
I don’t want you to be at my house all the time to help me, and I
definitely
don’t want you staying there
, or,
Since when are you and Daddy all buddy-buddy?
But I didn’t say any of those things. I only told him that my father hated dogs.

The pain meds must be affecting me even more than I realized.

“He’s the one who suggested it. And it was his idea for me to stay there. Not mine.”

“I don’t know if I want you to stay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you being at my house all the time. Especially not once Daddy comes home.”

“All right.”

“Damn it, Cam. Are you ever going to argue with me? About anything?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Why?” I hated the pouty sound of my voice. I hated that he could bring this side of me out. I hated that I couldn’t act like a freaking adult, like he was.

“Because my dad constantly argued with my mom, and worse, when I was a kid, and I know what it did to me. I know what it did to my sisters. I know what it did to my mom.” He turned onto my street. “I’m not going to be that kind of man. I’m not going to do that to you. So if you don’t want me to stay, I won’t, even though I know you need help and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

“You’re making it impossible for me to be pissed off at you. You know that?” I spun my head around to stare out the window. It was easier to pout and sulk and do all the immature things I wished I would stop doing if I wasn’t looking at him, if I couldn’t see the way he was looking at me.

“Good,” he replied as he parked in the driveway. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I detected a hint of laughter in his voice. He almost never laughed. At least it seemed that way.

He’d been right. There were tons of cars lining the street near my house. I didn’t have a clue how many of them must have come here from the hospital. Too many, when all I wanted to do was find a comfortable position somewhere and let the pain meds do their work.

“Don’t move,” he said, taking his key from the ignition. “I’ll come get you down.”

Even though he picked me up carefully and set me down with even more tenderness, I couldn’t stop the pained whimper that came from me. He stood there, his hands on my waist and his head bent down to mine, holding me steady while I tried to remember how to breathe.

“You okay to walk inside?”

“I will be,” I said.
Maybe
.

“All right.” He wasn’t impatient. He didn’t try to rush me. He just stood there for as long as I needed.

And I needed a long fucking time. Every tiny motion felt impossibly painful. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to do anything for myself. Whether I wanted his help or not, I needed it. I was going to need a lot of it, damn it.

Frankly, though, I would rather have his help than just about anyone else that was currently inside my house. I knew they all meant well, but it was just too much. With Cam, it was always the perfect amount at exactly the right time.

Having him around made me feel stable. I don’t know that I’d felt that much in my life. At least not since my mother left. Daddy had done his best, but he was as unstable as I was in many ways. Cam was solid. He was unwavering. He steadied me.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Cam?” I said after a minute.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to stay.”

He didn’t respond. He just kissed my forehead.

We stayed like that for another minute or so while I tried to prepare myself for the pain of walking inside. When I was ready, he took my hand and stayed right with me. Strong. Steady. Quietly determined. He was like a rock at my side.