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“It means the team won’t cover my expenses for injuries I incur on my personal time.”
He looks up at me, open-mouthed “Wow. Even my insurance covers me when I’m not working and I’m just a lowly artist.”
“I’m sure my insurance will cover it, it just won’t be free like it is if I get hurt during a game or while I’m training.”
“Still sounds shitty if you ask me.” His offended look is back, which makes my heart do this strange little flutter.
“It’s a business, and I’m a commodity.”
“That’s a very Thor thing to say.”
I cock my head to the side. “It is?”
“He downplays saving people because that’s his job. You’re downplaying your value because hockey is a business. Same thing, really. Speaking of heroes… You injured yourself trying to save an imaginary dog from an imaginary coyote?” The sly sparkle is back in his eye.
“The dog isn’t imaginary. It lives next door.”
“Uh, huh. You should’ve said you were running on the treadmill and the power went out. I bet they’d have considered that ‘training.’” He punctuates that with air quotes.
“I’ll use that excuse next time.” I bite back a smile, my first since getting hurt.
“Next time? Are you crazy? There will be no more funny business where you could get hurt. I’m not going to be responsible for you getting cut from the team.”
“You aren’t responsible now. We’ve been through this.”
He dismisses me with a wave of his hand. “You need a bodysuit made out of bubble wrap. That way if you fall over there’s no damage, just a cool sound. Ooh…” He looks at me with wide eyes that are a little too green with mischief. “If you wear it while we’re fucking, we could make some pretty cool music. Can’t you hear it? Pop, pop, pop, moan. Pop, pop, grunt. I’d listen to that all day long. I’d probably get fired for having a perpetual boner, or at the very least I’d make an excellent case for why I should be allowed to work from home. Do you have any recording equipment? I have editing software but not recording equipment. Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” I say as I wipe my eyes. “I’m trying not to laugh.”
“You have the same condition I do where you laugh at inappropriate times?” His brows draw together in confusion.
“This is an inappropriate time to laugh?” I blink away the last of my tears.
“Well, I was being serious.”
I honestly can’t tell if that’s true or not, but either way I feel better than I did a few minutes ago. “Thanks for staying. It helps having you here.”
“About that.” He sighs heavily. “You’re going to need help, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t put any weight on that foot. How are you going to make those fancy frozen meals for yourself or get cleaned up or…whatever else?”
I gnaw on my lip as I turn those words over in my mind. It’s been years, well over a decade, since anyone’s had to take care of me. Sure, I have someone that cooks meals for me to reheat, but minus the use of one leg even that will be hard to manage. And showering… That’s a slip hazard right there.
“Sounds like I’m gonna have to be a bath guy for the next few weeks.”
Tripp cracks a small smile at my lame joke. “Look, as much as you want me to believe I’m not responsible for this, I know better. I’m not saying I take all the blame.” He holds up a hand to stop me from objecting. “But I share the blame. So, it’d be pretty shitty of me to leave you like this. It’d make me no better than those douche canoes you play for.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying if you need someone to stick around and help you with, whatever, I can do that. I need to run home and grab some things, but I can come back.”
“You’d do that?” There goes my heart again, only this time the flutter spreads throughout my entire torso.
“You did it for me. When you thought I might have a concussion.”
“That was one night. This would be a lot more.”
