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Instead, I lifted our joined hands and pressed my mouth against his knuckles. “Not a few hours before Game Five when you’re already dealing with your father and trying to convince Cinder that half your rib cage isn’t turning purple.”
His eyes narrowed. “That is incredibly annoying.”
“I know.”
“You’ve basically announced that you have a giant secret and expect me not to think about it.”
“When you put it like that, my plan does seem poorly conceived.” That finally earned me the beginnings of a smile, and I leaned closer until my forehead rested against his.
“After we deal with your father, I’ll tell you everything.”
The promise came out before I’d completely considered what I was making, but once it existed between us, I didn’t want to take it back.
Ash had spent years being given carefully edited versions of the truth, and I wouldn’t become another person who did that to him.
He studied me for another moment. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
The trust that moved through his expression hurt more than suspicion would’ve.
Ash nodded. “Okay.”
I kissed him because I didn’t know what else to do with that one quiet word, keeping the kiss slow until some of the tension left his body. When we separated, my hand settled automatically at his waist before I remembered the bruising beneath his shirt.
“Now come here and let me look at your ribs.”
Ash groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow. “That’s considerably less romantic.”
“You injured yourself two days ago and just spent the morning pretending bending doesn’t hurt. Romance is temporarily suspended.”
His glare would’ve been more convincing if he hadn’t started moving toward me at the same time. “I wasn’t pretending.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I helped him climb carefully up the bed without making a thing of it, one hand beneath his good arm and the other steadying his hip. Once he was settled on his back beside me, I pushed his shirt up and looked at the bruise spreading purple and black along his ribs.
My dragon went very quiet and very cold at the sight of it.
The bruise had spread since yesterday, deep purple bleeding into black along Ash’s left side, with angry streaks disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweats. Cinder had warned us it would probably look worse before it looked better, but convincing the possessive creature living beneath my skin that this wasn’t a reason to commit murder was apparently another matter entirely.
Ash glanced down and grimaced. “It’s pretty.”
“That’s not the word I was thinking.”
“I bet yours involved homicide.”
I carefully lowered his shirt. “Possibly.”
His mouth twitched, but before he could answer, someone knocked on the door.
Cinder arrived with his medical bag and enough tape to suggest he intended to rebuild Ash rather than examine him. His gaze flicked once from me to the rumpled bed before professionalism apparently won whatever internal battle he was having.
The head assessment came first, and Ash passed everything cleanly. No headache, dizziness, nausea, vision changes, or balance problems, which eased some of the tension I’d been carrying since Friday night.
The ribs took longer.
Ash kept his face carefully blank while Cinder worked along his left side, but when he found the worst spot, Ash’s breath caught before he could hide it.
