Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(59)

I stood and leaned over the gurney. His free hand slid up into my hair, and we shared a long, soft kiss. Not enough to get either of us spun up, but enough to reassure me that, despite everything tonight, Geoff was okay. We were okay.

And holy shit, he told his kids I’m his boyfriend.





Chapter 15


Geoff



The morning after cracking my head against a hard floor turned out to be along the same lines as the aftermath of partying like a Marine. Between the massive headache and the miserable moments spent puking, it really took me back to those days in the Corps when I’d challenged the stamina of both my liver and my paycheck. Yay nostalgia.

I had some texts from Asher, Laura, Valerie, and the kids, and I hoped none of them were annoyed by my one-word answers. I could see all right—the doc had said to watch out for double vision, and I didn’t have any of that—but focusing for too long on the screen made my head throb. Throughout the morning, there were also calls from my captain, my union rep, the stadium’s legal department, the Steelheads’ legal department, and someone handling the worker’s comp claim since I’d been hurt on the job. I’d managed to focus enough for those conversations. I hoped, anyway. The details were fuzzy. If I hadn’t had a few concussions during my time in the Marine Corps and one or two while playing football in high school, I probably would have been worried, but I’d been down this road. It sucked, it was unsettling, but it was what happened when you’d had your bell rung. If anything I should probably have been worried by how routine this was for me. Maybe my mom was right—maybe I did need to slow down a little.

In between fielding calls and texts, I spent the day lounging on my side on the couch. It would’ve been more comfortable on my back, but the glued cut on the back of my head didn’t agree. I watched a little TV but then shut that off because it was giving me motion sickness. After that, it was basically a wrestling match between headache and boredom—fuck off on my phone until the headache made me stop, stare into space until boredom demanded phone access again. Today was fun.

By mid-afternoon, especially after I’d very cautiously eaten something, I felt a little better. Still like I’d been dragged behind a Humvee for a few miles, but less like my head was going to explode or I was going to act out something from The Exorcist. I’d learned the hard way in the past that I still needed to take it extra easy, though, so I continued my quest to be as lazy as humanly possible.

With my head throbbing with less enthusiasm than before, I went from lying on the couch to sitting back in the recliner. A neck pillow kept me from putting pressure on the glued cut, and the upright position meant I could use my iPad instead of my phone. Less eye strain for the win.

Naturally, I looked up last night’s game, since I hadn’t had a chance to ask Asher about it at the ER. Or maybe I had and just couldn’t remember. Either way, it turned out the Steelheads had won 4-3, which was a relief. Not surprising, either. I doubted Asher’s head had been in the game, but even if he was one of the strongest players in the league, the rest of his team weren’t exactly slouches.

I didn’t dare watch any of the highlights. Hockey moved way too fast for me to even think about it. I did skim over a recap, though, and I was relieved to see that Asher had been strong on the ice. He’d been shaky during the first period, holding it together better during the second, and then he’d brought out his aggressive A-game in the third. He’d assisted the team’s last two goals, which had happened during the second half of the third period.

I smiled to myself as I slowly scrolled through the article. I was glad Asher had been able to play without being distracted by Nathan or me. Thank God everything had gone down behind closed doors; for all I knew, Asher had had no idea what happened until after the game. He’d been able to play the second and third periods knowing Nathan wasn’t in the stands anymore, and that was all he’d needed to know.

In the middle of the afternoon, my kids came home from school. As they came into the apartment, I put my iPad aside. Both regarded me curiously, which was a step up from the hostility that had followed them inside for the past few months.

David set his bookbag down beside the kitchen table. “How’s your head?”

“Better than it was this morning. How was school?”

“Eh.”

Claire put her bag in its usual place next to the coat closet, then sat down on the couch. “They said you were okay, right? After the concussion?”

I nodded carefully. “Yeah. I’ve had worse. The scans didn’t show anything, so yeah, I’m good.”

She nodded, releasing a long breath.

David joined her on the couch. They were both quiet, but the air was tense in a way it hadn’t been in a while. Not with anger or hostility. More like that feeling that something needed to be said, but no one was quite sure if or how to say it. The kids exchanged glances. Stared at their hands. Glanced at me. Fidgeted.

As gently as I could, I said, “Anything you want to talk about?”

More fidgeting and glances. Finally, David said, “I thought you didn’t want to date another rich guy.”

Fuck. They’d heard that? I hadn’t said it to either of them, but maybe they’d overheard me venting to their mom. Either way, the comment wasn’t an accusation, strangely enough. If anything, my son sounded confused.