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"Yeah. I didn't get a scratch on me. Unless you count my fists." His gruff voice cuts through the silence as he pulls away from me. His eyes dart down to the bandages that need to be changed. "I'll take you to the medical room. I'm sure lover-boy is losing his shit without you around."
Tyler's deep chuckle makes me smile. And before I know it, we come to a stop in front of a white door with the word medic plastered on the front in bold red letters.
"I'll leave you to it. You can just head in. I’m sure they're expecting you."
I smile again and let out a little laugh. Tyler nods once and turns around to make his way back to the locker room before he stops short and looks around awkwardly.
"Oh, and thank you. For earlier." He rocks on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at any moment.
"You don't have to thank me, Tyler. We're friends and that's what friends do." I give him a small, gentle smile and watch as his own grows, making a rare appearance. He nods his head and turns around once again, walking away.
With as much confidence as I can muster, I pull the door open and walk into the room. I'm hit with the smell of disinfectant instantly, forcing my nose to scrunch up in distaste. I hate the smell of hospitals.
Oakley is sitting on a makeshift hospital bed in the middle of the room, annoyance written clearly on his face. A sling is wrapped around his neck, holding his right arm up. A white bandage is pulled tight across his chin, and an ice pack is taped across his lower back.
I gasp, "What happened out there? One minute you were skating, then the next you were on your back and then Tyler was throwing fists. When I turned to look at you again, you were gone! I was so worried!" It comes out all in a rush, and I'm panting by the time I finish.
He's staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly. He laughs airily, his lips curling up in his usual smirk.
"Mom and Gracie, this is Ava—my girlfriend."
I whip my head up to see the mother and daughter from earlier sitting in two chairs pushed up against the wall.
Holy shit, this is so not happening right now. Heat creeps up my neck as I wave at them awkwardly.
"Oh my! It's so nice to see you again, dear."
Gracie snickers to herself when Anne jumps up from her seat to greet me. She rushes over and pulls me in for a hug. She smells like peppermint and fresh linen, instantly reminding me of my mom. I look over her shoulder at Oakley. He seems confused, presumably as to how I already know his mom and sister.
"I knew I had a good feeling about you," Gracie smirks.
"Uh, is anyone going to explain this to me? I'm confused," Oakley puts in suddenly. I smile shyly while Gracie explains.
"I was just talking to Mom about how hot Tyler looked before your game started. Mom started embarrassing me, and then we met Ava. Mom just introduced herself like a total weirdo."
"Tyler is not hot. He is way too old for you," he glares.
Gracie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. "Is that the only thing you took from that? You are ridiculous. I don't know why you're putting up with him, Ava. He is a real ass."
They continue their banter for a few minutes while Anne and I stand back and watch. He’s extremely protective of his sister, but he doesn't need to worry about Tyler. I don't know much about his type, but I doubt he's into underage, sixteen-year-old girls.
"Okay, that's enough. We have company!" their mother shouts, breaking them apart.
Oakley gives me a swoon-worthy grin and holds his good arm out in front of him for a hug. I shake my head gently, not wanting to intrude on their family moment. He rolls his eyes and stands up off the bed. He walks over and pulls me into his side with his uninjured arm. My entire body relaxes instantly at his touch. I, very gingerly, wrap my arms around his neck to return the gesture.
We hug for what feels like hours, trapped in our little world. My worries and nerves finally leave now that I know he's safe and okay. The sound of the soft click of the door pulls my attention away from him.
"Finally," Oakley heaves a deep sigh. "I didn't want to ask them to leave but I've wanted to do this since the minute you walked in here."
I open my mouth to ask him what he's talking about when he presses his mouth against mine. I stand up on my tiptoes and lean into the kiss, relishing in the calm, dizzy feeling that takes over my body whenever we touch.
I remember I still have no idea what happened or how he's doing and pull away frantically.
"You never answered me when I asked you what happened out there. So? What's the diagnosis?"
He sighs again and pulls me over to one of the chairs resting against the wall. He sits down on one and pats his leg. With slight hesitation, I sit on his lap. He wraps his good arm around my waist and leans forward, chin resting on my shoulder.
"I didn't see him coming. I know I should be more aware—being public enemy number one to everyplayer and their dog—but I didn't see him. Regardless, it was a dirty hit and it sent me on my ass. I have a bruised tailbone and a dislocated collarbone. I could do without the scrape on my chin and the sore tongue, but it's nothing serious. I'm lucky."
I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. "How long are you out for?"
"I'll be riding the pine for three to four weeks—if I'm lucky," he grumbles, his grip around my waist tightening.
"At least it's just the beginning of the season. You’ll be playing before you know it."
I know my words don't do much to lighten his mood, but I would do anything to cheer him up.
"Thank you, beautiful. You always know what to say," he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against the skin beneath the jersey I'm wearing.
This might not be the ideal situation, but sitting here with Oakley is the only place that I want to be.
