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“So far, so good,” Dr. Walsh says. “I think you might have lucked out, Killian. I have to do a few more tests, and you’ll need a little bit of rehab, but you should be okay to play hockey in a few months.”
“A few months?” I stare at him in shock, surprised I still might have a chance after all my dwelling and moping around. “Really?”
Why am I surprised the Mob doctor was wrong? I should have come to a legit doctor sooner, but I was too busy taking pills and moping around my bedroom like some loser.
“It’s not a guarantee,” Dr. Walsh says. “Nothing is certain. But I think you have a good chance of getting back to where you were before the accident.”
Jade blows out the breath she was holding and squeezes my hand tighter. She turns to me and kisses me on the cheek. “This is the best news ever.”
I wish I could be positive and think of this as a win. Still, I can’t help but feel like my chances are slim.
Dr. Walsh checks my arm once more, and then he lowers it to write on my chart. “I wish I could say for sure that you will play hockey again, but it’s likely.” He scribbles a few notes and then tucks my chart under his arm. “Do you have any questions?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Thanks, Dr. Walsh.”
The doctor leaves and closes the door. I slide off the table, and Jade stands, tugging her skirt over her thighs. I can’t help but stare, dirty thoughts racing through my mind.
“How does it feel not to have the cast on?”
I glance down at my hand and shrug. “Different, I guess. I’m glad it’s off. I hated having to be careful when I got in the shower or when I fucked you. Plus, it itched like fucking hell. I definitely won’t miss it.”
She chuckles. “And I won’t miss having to grab a coat hanger to stick down there to scratch your itch in the middle of the night.”
I hook my arm around her back and pull her to my chest, dipping my head down to slip my tongue inside her mouth. This is the first time in weeks I’ve been able to hold her with both hands. My arm is still a little stiff, and I can tell I have a long way to go, but at least that fucking cast is gone.
Jade presses her palm to my chest, her fingers slowly creeping down to the seam of my boxers. With my now free hand, I place hers over my growing erection. I’m rock hard and so ready to fuck her without having any restrictions.
“You’re hard. And you’re not even racing.” She giggles.
“This time…” I say against her lips, “… it’s all you. It’s always you.”
She cups the side of my face with her hand and smiles. “How did we get here?”
“In your car.”
“And this time you didn’t have to steal it.” She chuckles. “You know what I mean, Killian. We’re complete opposites, and somehow we’ve made this work. So, what’s next after we graduate?”
“My plan was to go pro and buy a place for us to live with the money. But that kinda went to shit after I broke my arm.”
“You want to live together?”
I nod. “I can’t stand the thought of you going back to New York when I need you here with me.”
She kisses me softly, her sweet perfume filling my nostrils. “I can’t wait to start my life with you, Killian Kade. First, you stole my car. Then, you stole my heart.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Killian: Six months later
“Killian, stop distracting me.” Jade tilts her head to the side as I kiss her neck. She sucks in a deep breath and moans. “I have to focus if I want to pass the exam tomorrow.”
I’m so proud of Jade for getting into nursing school. She’s a few months into her classes and already crushing it. And most importantly, she’s happy now that she doesn’t have to live under her father’s thumb and can do what she wants with her life.
I drag my teeth along her skin. “You look hot in scrubs.”
She shivers from my breath and then shakes me off. “I’m serious. I have to study. This test is important. You know, some people actually have to study to get good grades.”
“Well, I guess everyone can’t be perfect,” I joke with a smirk crossing my lips.
“Like you.” She chuckles. “School doesn’t come as natural to me as it does for you.”
“I’m glad that’s in my past,” I confess. “I don’t miss college one bit.”
My cell phone rings and Jade lifts it from the couch. “It’s a local number,” she says, passing it to me.
I consider sending the call to voicemail and dismiss the thought, sliding my finger across the screen to answer the call.
