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Mom hops off the bed. “Nope, that’s okay. We’ll leave you two to talk.” She gestures to Sarah for them to leave.
Before Sarah climbs off the bed, she leans over and whispers, “Along for theride.”
I give her a shove and she follows Mom out of the room, laughing as she goes.
Aaron sits down next to me with raised eyebrows. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. We were talking. About today…” My eyes roll over his face. “Everything…”
“Right.”
“What’s up, Ace?”
“I wanted to check in. See how you are.”
“Honestly? I’m tired of being asked how I am.”
He chuckles, and I take a sip of my cocoa, managing to get whipped cream all over my nose as I do.
“Come here.” He gently runs his thumb over my nose, wiping the whipped cream off. Then he licks it off his thumb in the most tantalizing way. It’s panty-melting, I swear. I want to jump him.
I clear my throat, also trying to clear the dirty thoughts from my mind, because if I don’t, one of these days, I’m going to attack him. Climb on his lap, kiss him, who knows what else. I have no chill around him anymore. None at all.
Gathering myself, I say, “What about you? I know none of that is easy for you to relive either.”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. And… last night when I told my parents, I didn’t tell them everything. They heard a lot of it for the first time earlier. When I got home, we sat down and talked more about it and about my hand.”
My eyes widen. “Aaron…”
“It was fine. I mean, my mom had a feeling something was up with my hand, but she didn’t know what. Anyway, they took me to the walk-in to get it x-rayed.”
My gaze drops to his hand. Slowly, I reach over and intertwine my fingers with his. “What did the X-ray show?”
He lets out a heavy sigh as he tells me about the microfractures in his hand and what he’s dealing with now—finger malunion.
“I guess it can be a lot worse, but that’s part of why my hand feels weird and stiff a lot, and why it can still be achy.”
“So, what now? Can it be fixed?”
“Maybe. I might need surgery. I have to see an orthopedic surgeon, but it’ll probably take a while. They set me up with physical therapy. That might help with my grip strength and range of motion.”
I look up at him. “What does this mean? Baseball?”
He shrugs and tries to smile, but I can see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t know. Obviously, Coach will have to decide whether he’s comfortable playing me knowing the situation. We’ll have to see how my grip is. I’ve been working on throwing—it’s been pretty bad. But I’m hoping now that I know what’s wrong, it can be fixed. Somewhat, at least.”
I lift our intertwined hands up and gently kiss each finger on his hand.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t really care, either.
“I hate that this happened. I hate that you’re still dealing with it.”
He pulls his hand from mine, sliding it into my hair as he turns to face me. His eyes burn with desire as he looks at me. His gaze could burn a hole in me. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
Still, I can see the ache deep in his eyes. I move closer to him, my body on autopilot.
His other hand slides to my waist and I close my eyes at the sensation. That tingly feeling his touch always gives, even through my clothes.
I let out a shuddery breath.
