Playing with Fire

Me, twisting on the floor, gargling on my own blood like it was mouthwash.

I kept telling myself that if I lost, I wouldn’t have to go to bed every night worrying about what Kade Appleton and his asshole friends may or may not do to Grace. She was my Achilles’ heel. No matter how I turned it around, Kade needed his pride restored, and me? My ego wasn’t worth half as much as Grace meant to me.

Everything had moved in slow motion. The excited chants around us had dissolved to panicky cries for Max to end the fight. But no matter how much I prayed to a god I wasn’t sure was even up there for Kade to throw a knockout and put me out of my misery, the final blow never came.

At some point, I considered manufacturing a KO, but I didn’t trust my own abilities to look passed out. Still, I didn’t fight back. Didn’t pretend to try. It wasn’t a fight. It was me letting Appleton have his way, my punishment for defeating him.

Kade shoved me to the mat and wrestled me, trying some Jiu-Jitsu move that made it look like he wanted to eat my ass. There, when we were flush against each other, I finally grated through a bloody mouth.

“Just finish the job. You know I threw this shit before I walked in the ring, why are you dragging it?”

“I’m well aware of that, St. Claire.” He threw me back a partly toothless grin. “But winning is not enough, see. First, I’m going to humiliate you.”

I woke up in the ICU the following day.

I glanced around, gradually coming to, and found that I’d been hooked up to an IV drip, with my pulse monitored, and was wrapped in bandages with a casted hand …

My eyes shifted downwards. I was wearing a hospital gown. I’d never worn one before. Let’s just say I didn’t think powder blue was my fucking color.

“Good mornin’, sunshine!” Easton’s voice sounded way too loud and cheerful for the occasion. The door flapped open, and he sauntered in. I closed my eyes, refusing to deal with his bullshit before I had a strong cup of Joe.

“Fancy seeing you awake. You gave us quite the scare last night.”

“Why are you talking like you’re eighty?” I croaked, trying to swallow some of my saliva. Bad idea. I had no saliva whatsoever. My throat was drier than Max’s hookups. I grunted.

East sat beside me on a nearby stool, and I heard more shuffling around the room. He wasn’t the only one here, but opening my eyes to see who entered the room wasn’t on my agenda.

“You almost died last night,” East pointed out.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Don’t you have any other places to be? Maybe stand next to the Hudson and let tourists know that it’s wet, or go to Alaska and point out the chilly weather?”

“Oh my God, he didn’t only lose a tooth. His sense of humor got whacked, too.” Reign exhaled dramatically from the other side of the room.

My heart sank at his voice. Who the hell was I expecting to be here?

Grace. I’d been expecting Grace.

“Your parents are on their way, and I don’t want any goddamn lip about it,” East warned. “They dropped a kebab when they heard what happened to you.”

My first instinct was to bite his head off for telling them. Then again, he didn’t have much choice. How else would he explain my taking a lengthy trip to the hospital?

Which brought me to my next question.

“What did you tell the hospital staff?”

“Bike stunt.” Reign plopped on the bed beside me. “Which was easy to believe, seeing as poor Christina was trashed by Kade and his minions shortly after the fight.” He tsked. “Hope you weren’t counting on a joyride, because your bike ain’t feeling very joyful right now.”

I grumbled, my eyes still closed.

“According to Max, Appleton is a happy camper now, so at least we know he’s not out and about trying to cause more shit,” East offered me the glass-half-full. Of piss.

“Hunky-dory.”

“Who is being eighty now, eh?” East cracked a can of Coke and brought it to my lips, not bothering with a straw. Asshole. I took a slow sip, letting the liquid burn a path down my throat. It felt good.

“What’s the verdict?” I finally opened my eyes and motioned to my face.

“Broken nose, three broken fingers from before the fight, two cracked ribs, and an indefinite amount of bruises.” East counted with his fingers.

“Isn’t that against the HIPAA rules to give non-family members personal info?” I frowned.

“Oh, the medical staff didn’t volunteer this information. I just have two working eyes,” Easton deadpanned.

“Even that wasn’t enough to make us drag your ass to the ER,” Reign confessed from my other side. “But then you decided to take a long-ass nap on the ground after the fight, and we couldn’t wake you up for ten minutes. Easton insisted it was a concussion. Finally, Tess, AKA my girlfriend, to whom you were a jerk, made the executive decision to call an ambulance. Good thing she did, because apparently some of your inner organs got hella swollen. Still hatin’ on my girl?”