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There was no frantic need to get skin against skin or pretend we hadn't spent months circling each other. This kiss was slower and infinitely more dangerous because Ash knew exactly who was kissing him now, while I knew considerably more about the man kissing me.
When we finally separated, his forehead rested against mine and his breath warmed my mouth.
“You're insane.”
“Entirely possible, although I'm going to need a better argument than that if you're trying to get rid of me.”
“You should run.”
“I've never been particularly good at taking instructions from left wings.”
His breath caught somewhere between a laugh and something more fragile, and I kissed him again, briefly this time.
“You don't get to decide for me whether knowing you makes me leave.”
Ash closed his eyes, and for a moment I thought he might cry again. When he looked at me, though, some of the panic had finally eased.
“Okay.”
It wasn't much more than a whisper, but it was enough.
Cinder arrived shortly after nine carrying coffee, medical supplies, and the expression of a man prepared to ruin somebody's weekend. He took one look at me opening Ash's front door in yesterday's clothes and showed absolutely no surprise.
“Good. You're still here. Saves me having to ask whether somebody followed the overnight-monitoring instructions.”
“Lovely to see you too.”
Cinder ignored me and walked straight past. “I wasn't worried about you.”
Ash had managed to shower and change without assistance despite my repeated offers to stand outside the bathroom in case he fell over, and he was sitting on the couch looking considerably more human than he had during the night. The moment Cinder saw him, the sarcasm disappeared and the team medic took over.
He started with the head assessment, checking for headache, nausea, dizziness, light sensitivity, confusion, and vision problems before running Ash through the neurological tests again. Ash passed every one of them, although he objected when I helpfully suggested Cinder ask whether Étienne was my favorite horse.
Cinder paused. “Who the hell is Étienne?”
“Nobody important,” I said, at exactly the same moment Ash informed him, “His favorite horse.”
I looked at Ash. “We're going to discuss this betrayal later.”
“He talks about him constantly,” Ash told Cinder.
“I do not.”
Cinder stared between us before apparently deciding there were limits to what medical school had prepared him for. “I'm not getting involved in whatever weird horse argument the two of you are having.”
The joking stopped when he moved on to Ash's ribs and shoulder.
I stayed out of the way while he examined him, watching Ash's expression tighten when Cinder pressed carefully along his side and tested his range of motion. Bruising had already started spreading beneath the skin, ugly enough to make my dragon restless, but Cinder found nothing that suggested a fracture. More importantly, Ash could take a full breath without the sharp restriction he'd had immediately after the hit, and although his shoulder was sore, it remained stable.
Eventually Cinder sat back on his heels. “You're going to hate me when you wake up tomorrow because bruising tends to get considerably more entertaining before it gets less entertaining. The good news is that I'm not finding anything this morning that automatically rules you out Sunday.”
Ash visibly relaxed. “So I'm playing.”
“I said I'm not ruling you out, which is medically and grammatically different from clearing you. Today you rest, ice the ribs, and take anti-inflammatories. I'll reassess you before we fly out today and again tomorrow morning.”
“And if everything still looks like this?”
“Then we pad the ribs, manage the pain, and see whether you're functional enough to play. If you develop any neurological symptoms, your breathing worsens, or that shoulder loses strength or stability, the conversation is over and you're sitting.”
