Crashed

“He’d never believe you. I’m still here, aren’t I?” She says the words to my back, and I turn slowly trying to gain some semblance of control over the inferno of rage boiling just beneath the surface.

“Yeah, for now,” I say with a raise of an eyebrow and a disbelieving shake of my head, “but the clock’s ticking, doll.” Tawny starts to speak but I cut her off. “Try me, Tawny. Try me, because there’s nothing I’d rather do than prove to you how serious I am right now.”

“Is there a problem here?” The voice jolts me out of my rage induced haze as I look over to the nurse from earlier, who’s now leaving Colton’s room.

I look from her and then back at Tawny for a second. “No problem,” I say, saccharine lacing my tone. “I was just taking out the trash.” I shoot Tawny one more warning look before I take the ten steps to Colton’s room and enter it with a smile plastered on my face.

I breathe out in relief that Dr. Irons is busy examining Colton when I enter the room, because I need a minute to settle my thundering pulse and calm my fingers trembling from anger. Colton glances up and smiles softly at me before focusing back on the doctor and answering his questions.

I exhale the shaky breath I was holding and see Beckett angle his head as he looks at me, bemusement in his eyes as he tries to figure out why my cheeks are so flushed. I just shake my head at him, and at that moment, Dr. Irons decides to remove the bandage from Colton’s head.

I have to withhold the gasp that instinctively wants to escape from my lips at the sight. There is a shaved patch of hair with a two inch diameter circle of staples on the upper portion of the right side of his skull. It’s still swollen and the silver staples juxtaposed against the pink incision with the dark red of the dried blood make a ghastly contrast.

Colton must see the look on my face because he looks over at Beckett while Dr. Irons examines the incision and says, “How bad?”

Beckett just chews the inside of his cheek and twists his lips as he looks at it and then back at Colton. “It’s pretty nasty, dude.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Beckett says and nods his head.

“Whatever.” Colton shrugs with nonchalance. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“Think of the serious sympathy points you could get with Rylee though if you play it up.”

Colton glances over at me and smirks. “I don’t need any sympathy points with her.” I’m about to speak when his gaze shifts over my shoulder. “Tawny.”

My back bristles instantly but I try to smooth it down as best as I can. I’ve said my piece. I’ve given her enough rope to hang herself; let’s just see if she chooses to swing or stand.

“Hey,” she says softly. “It’s good to see you awake.”

I step to the side of the bed next to Colton—staking my claim in case I hadn’t made it crystal clear earlier—and reach out to squeeze his right hand, noting its strength has still not returned.

“It’s good to be awake,” Colton replies as he winces at Dr. Irons’ intrusive fingertips against his scalp and hisses in a breath of air. “Give me a minute, okay?”

“Sure.”

We all stand there quietly watching Colton until the exam is over and the doctor steps back. “So what other questions do you have, Colton, because I’m sure you have some besides what we spoke about earlier?”

Colton looks over to me and I’m sure he sees the dare in my eyes because mirth begins to dance in his. He works his tongue in his cheek as his grin widens with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Not yet, young man.” Dr. Irons laughs out in amusement as he guesses the question and pats him on the knee. I’m sure embarrassment stains my cheeks but I don’t even care. “What I wouldn’t give to be in my early thirties again,” he sighs.

Colton laughs and looks over at me, eyes locking, sexual tension crackling, and the underlying ache starting to smolder. “At any time and in any place, sweetheart,” he repeats the words back to me he’d said the night we met.

Everyone else in the room ceases to exist. My insides coil with craving from his words and the salacious look in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw tics as he stares at me for a beat before looking back at Dr. Irons. He shrugs in mock apology as a mischievous grin lifts one corner of his mouth.

“Sorry, Doc, but you gave me a rule and that just tempts me to break it that much more."

Dr. Irons shakes his head at Colton. “So noted, son, but the ramifications of …” he continues on in warning about needing to watch the pressure of blood flowing through the major arteries in his brain while they heal, and thus certain strenuous activities can cause that pressure to be stronger than is safe at this stage of healing. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Colton says, and I don’t miss the look that passes between him and Beckett. He pulls his eyes back to the doctor’s and says, “When will I be cleared to race again?”

Of all the questions I had expected him to ask, it wasn’t that. And of course I’m stupid for hoping that on the off chance Colton might not want to race again, but hearing him actually say it causes panic to course through me. As much as I try to hide the mini-anxiety attack his words have evoked, my body instinctively tenses, my hands jerking tight around his hand while my breath audibly catches in my throat.

Colton averts his eyes from Dr. Irons momentarily to look into mine. Obviously Dr. Irons senses my discomfort because he waits a beat before answering. And during that time, Colton’s eyes convey so much to me but at the same time are guarding his deepest thoughts. The moment I start to catch more, he looks away and back to the doctor.