Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

Vance is looking around the room with a thoughtful expression, and it hits me that they must know all the tips and tricks. They spent some time in the hospital a while back, in an incident that got a ton of media attention.

Vance steps closer to my bedside. “You need anything?” he asks softly.

I shake my head.

“We’re gonna go to a hotel across the street, and one of us will text you in about three hours.”

“That’s when she’ll be up again,” Luke explains, stepping behind Vance so I can see him without moving too much.

“Thank you. You don’t have to do that…if you’re busy or something.”

“We’re glad to,” Vance says, at the same time Luke says, “We want to.”

“Thank you.”

Ezra shifts his shoulders, and I lighten my arm’s weight on his chest. His heavy eyelids open, and he gives Luke and Vance a little smile before hugging me against him.

Once the room is empty and we’re wrapped together, Ezra sleeps for a long time. There’s some kind of thing on his good leg that blows itself up like a blood pressure cuff every so often, and it wakes me a few times, but Ez is deep in dreamland. Vance texts at 2:30 a.m., and I tell him we’re good.

Ez gets restless around sunrise—about the same time the nurses change shifts and a doctor from orthopedics comes into our room to check him over. He’s awake for that, but he seems…not himself. He seems like he’s trying to act normal, but he’s on edge, while also being fuzzy from the pain meds. The doctor unwraps the bandages on his leg, and Ez presses his face against my hair and holds me tighter with his arm that’s wrapped around my shoulders.

“Everything looks good,” the doctor tells us when he’s finished. He tells us Ez will need to check in with an ortho group in Alabama within two days of discharge, and I promise we’ll do it.

For a while, the room is quiet. I’m debating how much longer I can go without a trip to the restroom when Ezra’s arm, draped around my back, shifts a little, and his hand starts stroking my spine.

“You been in the bed all night?” he asks, his voice gruff from sleep.

I smile up at him. “Maybe.”

“You need to pee?”

I laugh. “Maybe.”

“’S okay. You can go.” He looks frowny, like he might be in pain. I kiss his cheek. “You okay?”

He nods. When I step out of the restroom, he’s still awake. He smiles, just a twitch of his cheek, and he says, “You don’t have to get in…if you don’t want to.”

“You want me not to? Just give you some space?”

“I want you to.” He does the wince-smile again.

When I’m back in bed, he hugs me harder than he has so far. “I love you, my Miller. Thanks for coming on the field.”

His voice is thick and hoarse, his body big and warm around me.

I kiss his jaw. “Of course, angel.”

“You’re one,” he murmurs. And then he’s sleeping with his cheek against the top of my head. An hour or so later, Luke and Vance are back with breakfast. They bring a bunch of random stuff from Starbucks, and I’m surprised Ezra takes the iced coffee, but he looks cute as he sips on it with his sleepy eyes. He has a few bites of a biscuit, and then—it all feels very sudden—lots of different people start to come in.

Luke and Vance take baby Eden for a walk as nurses rid poor Ez of all his wires and tethers and help him sit up in bed. For the next hour, we watch Wheel of Fortune on the room’s TV, and he hugs me against his chest.

“You okay, angel?”

He nods. He’s got his cheek against my hair.

“You sure?” I ask.

He nods again. “I was worried…but it’s okay.” His arm tightens its grip on me. “Because of you.”

“Because of you,” I say. “Because you’re so strong, dude.” He shakes his head. He rubs his temple against my hair, and a minute later, I’m surprised to feel what I think is a teardrop. His chest gives a quick heave, and I turn to face him. He’s wiping his eyes with his hand that has a Band-Aid from the IV.

“Sorry,” he says, and I’m shocked he’s full-on crying.

“Hey…angel. Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.” He holds his head, and his shoulders shake with silent sobs for just a moment. Then he takes a few deep breaths and wipes his face again. “Thanks, Miller. I’m not upset. It’s okay.” His sleepy eyes look puffy.

“Yeah?”

“I just…realized something.” His voice breaks.

I cup my hand over his shoulder. “What is it, babe?”

Fresh tears spill down his cheeks. He rubs his temples and shakes his head. Then he lifts his face so he can tell me, “It’s not me. That’s strong. I was scared on the field.” His lips tremble. He rubs at them, and another tear falls. His eyes find mine. “I was scared. But you were there, so it wasn’t as bad.” His voice is thick. He swallows again.