Page 60
Story: Mended Hearts
Mean Brains and Viggo Mortensen
LEIGHTON
Mom
Awe, poor thing. I’m proud of you, baby. You’re doing great. I’ll record the game for you, and you can watch it when you come home for Christmas.
Leighton
What do I tell her?
Mom
I think you said all the right things. Let her open up on her terms, and you’ll know what to say.
Leighton
Thanks Mama.
Mom
Text me when you’re safe at Ollie’s please.
Leighton
You got it.
One exhaustingly long, precariously quiet drive home, an extensive text exchange with my mom, and a rather elaborate fort later, I found myself lying on a floor bed made entirely of pillows and Mattie’s favorite blankets, looking up at Viggo Mortensen and his luscious hair and general ass-kickery. I passed the popcorn to my feisty little companion and found her staring up at the enormous television with a little smirk on her face.
“What?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Did you know he broke his toes kicking a helmet?”
“What?” I nearly choked—thank God I didn’t have a mouthful of popcorn, or I would’ve died.
“Yep,” she said matter-of-factly. “InThe Two Towers, Aragorn’s scream after kicking the orc helmet wasn’t acting. He broke his toes, and Peter Jackson kept the take because it felt authentic.”
I blinked, smirking down at her before glancing back up at the man in question. “So… he method acted his way right into a hospital?”
“That’scommitment,” she said sagely, hearts basically pulsing in her eyes as she dreamily stared at the screen.Same, girlfriend. Same.
“Leighton?” I popped my head out of the tent to see a looming Jax Reynolds leaning in the archway to the foyer. The man was easily six-three, broad-shouldered, and had that whole blond bad boy vibe going. One of Greyson’s Navy buddies, and seemingly allergic to tying his motorcycle boots. He wore a leather jacket, hair still damp from walking the perimeter in the rain—paranoid, as always. Jax had been behind the wheel when those psychos opened fire. He’d needed surgery and a terrifying number of transfusions. The fact that he was standing there, casually checking in, was a freaking miracle.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks, Jax.”
“Of course. The guys are briefed. Everything looks good on my end. Need anything before I head back to the stadium?”
“I think we’re good.” I shook my head and glanced at Tillie… who was now pink in the cheeks and definitely struggling to hold still.
I elbowed her. “Hey. What was that? You got all squirrelly.”
“Uhhhhhg,” she groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands.
“What?” I smirked.
“I just like them when they’re wet and angry.”
LEIGHTON
Mom
Awe, poor thing. I’m proud of you, baby. You’re doing great. I’ll record the game for you, and you can watch it when you come home for Christmas.
Leighton
What do I tell her?
Mom
I think you said all the right things. Let her open up on her terms, and you’ll know what to say.
Leighton
Thanks Mama.
Mom
Text me when you’re safe at Ollie’s please.
Leighton
You got it.
One exhaustingly long, precariously quiet drive home, an extensive text exchange with my mom, and a rather elaborate fort later, I found myself lying on a floor bed made entirely of pillows and Mattie’s favorite blankets, looking up at Viggo Mortensen and his luscious hair and general ass-kickery. I passed the popcorn to my feisty little companion and found her staring up at the enormous television with a little smirk on her face.
“What?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Did you know he broke his toes kicking a helmet?”
“What?” I nearly choked—thank God I didn’t have a mouthful of popcorn, or I would’ve died.
“Yep,” she said matter-of-factly. “InThe Two Towers, Aragorn’s scream after kicking the orc helmet wasn’t acting. He broke his toes, and Peter Jackson kept the take because it felt authentic.”
I blinked, smirking down at her before glancing back up at the man in question. “So… he method acted his way right into a hospital?”
“That’scommitment,” she said sagely, hearts basically pulsing in her eyes as she dreamily stared at the screen.Same, girlfriend. Same.
“Leighton?” I popped my head out of the tent to see a looming Jax Reynolds leaning in the archway to the foyer. The man was easily six-three, broad-shouldered, and had that whole blond bad boy vibe going. One of Greyson’s Navy buddies, and seemingly allergic to tying his motorcycle boots. He wore a leather jacket, hair still damp from walking the perimeter in the rain—paranoid, as always. Jax had been behind the wheel when those psychos opened fire. He’d needed surgery and a terrifying number of transfusions. The fact that he was standing there, casually checking in, was a freaking miracle.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, thanks, Jax.”
“Of course. The guys are briefed. Everything looks good on my end. Need anything before I head back to the stadium?”
“I think we’re good.” I shook my head and glanced at Tillie… who was now pink in the cheeks and definitely struggling to hold still.
I elbowed her. “Hey. What was that? You got all squirrelly.”
“Uhhhhhg,” she groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands.
“What?” I smirked.
“I just like them when they’re wet and angry.”
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