Page 26 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

JAXON

T he hinges squeak as I push the bathroom door open, unsure what’s waiting for me on the other side.

As soon as I see her, my cock swells in my joggers.

Wet skin. Crossed legs. Her breasts pushed up as she holds one arm in front of her.

The sight hits like a wrecking ball. I know I said I wouldn’t look, and I hadn’t planned to, but…

fuck. I tilt my head up at the ceiling, willing my erection to calm the hell down for more reasons than one.

This is not the time. Not that there would ever be a time with Rory Buchanan when my hard cock is needed, but when she’s in pain and sprawled on the tile floor? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Blindly, I reach for a folded towel I know is tucked beneath the sink. Terry cloth in hand, I sweep it over her bare body.

Keeping my eyes glued on the textured ceiling, I ask, “You covered?”

“Y-yes.”

Satisfied, I take her in again, but the added towel does shit to erase what I now know is underneath .

Still as gorgeous as ever.

Not. The. Time.

“Put Hades in my room,” Rory begs. “He’s worried about me and won’t stop licking my face.”

“Come on, Hades,” I order, only half-surprised he actually listens.

Apparently, he really does like me. Once he’s locked on the opposite side of the suite, I return to the bathroom and try to keep my head on straight and my fear in check.

There’s something about seeing someone you care about in pain, causing unease to swim in my gut.

Rory hasn’t moved an inch, so I crouch beside her.

“Let’s take a look, Squeaks.” Gently, I grasp her good arm and help her stand.

A whimper of pain slips out of her, and she digs her teeth into her bottom lip as she gives me her weight, leaning against me. “Ouch.”

“You’ll be all right,” I promise, refusing to acknowledge that my hand slipped beneath the towel when she decided walking without help was a no-go. Now, all I feel is warm skin beneath my palm as I keep my arm around her waist.

“Where’s Poppy?” she asks.

“She’s in her crib. Put her to sleep about ten minutes ago,” I tell her, keeping my voice quiet so she doesn’t wake up, though if she could sleep through practice, I have no doubt she’ll sleep through my conversation with Rory.

“Let’s…let’s get you some clothes, then I’ll find someone to hang out in the room with Poppy while I drive you to the hospital. ”

Rory’s eyes widen with panic. “The hospital?”

“I mean, yeah.” My mouth lifts. “You’re gonna need an X-ray.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” She shakes her head, another wave of panic rolling through her before she yelps in pain from the sudden movement.

“Careful,” I tell her, tightening my hold on her waist so she doesn’t collapse to the floor .

“Please, Jax,” she begs. “Please don’t take me to the hospital.”

I want to tell her it’ll be fine but stop at the last second when I notice the fear swallowing her pretty gaze. When was the last time Rory was in a hospital? Was it the night Archer died? Maybe. But fuck, I hope not.

I still remember that night like it was yesterday.

Still have nightmares over it, too. She only wanted me.

Not even her parents could stop her breakdown as she stared at her brother’s broken body in the hospital bed.

I’d never felt more helpless in my life as I held her to me, watching her fall apart, knowing there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.

To take away her pain. It reminds me of right now.

What I wouldn’t give to trade places. To be clutching my arm to my chest instead of watching the tears stream down her face and drip off her chin.

I search my memory for any breadcrumbs of conversation with her family over the years.

Conversations where they might’ve mentioned a broken bone or an allergic reaction or…

something that might hint Rory’s had another visit to a hospital since her brother’s death, but nothing stands out.

Tearing my attention from her glassy eyes, I look down at her arm still pressed to her chest and frown. “You sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital?”

“Please no,” she begs.

My chin hits my chest and resignation settles over me. “Let me…let me call Uncle Mack,” I offer, mentioning Everett’s dad and one of the Lions’ medics who travels with the team.

She looks down at her barely covered body. “I can’t let him see me like this.”

With a slow nod, I guide her past my sleeping baby and into the main area, making sure she has her bearings on the couch before I let her go. “I’m gonna grab one of my shirts. You should wear something baggy and easy to slip into,” I clarify. “The less we jostle your arm, the better.”

Her head jerks up and down and she wipes at her damp cheeks with her good hand. “Okay.”

Tiptoeing back into my room, I rummage through my luggage, find a large T-shirt, and return to the family room.

After bunching the fabric the best I can, I slip it over Rory’s head, careful not to jostle her too much, just like we planned.

Tears well in her eyes as I guide her arms through the sleeves, watching her face twist in agony until her hurt arm is pinned back to her chest. And dammit, I hate it.

Seeing her like this. Before I can stop it, my lips brush against her forehead, and she inhales sharply, as surprised as I am at the gesture.

I shouldn’t have done that. Honestly, I’m not sure why I did. I should apologize, but apologizing means addressing the kiss in the first place, and I don’t have it in me. Because I don’t want to take it back.

“It’s, uh, it’s gonna be okay,” I murmur. “I think it’s only dislocated, which is an easy fix compared to the alternative.”

“Easy.” She smirks, her tears slipping freely down her face and already staining my T-shirt. “Right.”

“I’ll, uh…let me call Uncle Mack. If he agrees, we won’t go to the hospital, all right?”

Her head bobs again before her expression constricts in discomfort, and she lets out a slow, controlled breath.

My hands clench at my sides as I fight the helplessness raging inside of me.

Trying to maintain some semblance of a clear head, I pull my phone out and dial Macklin.

He answers on the third ring. After telling him what happened, he promises to meet us in our room, and I find some baggy sweats, helping Rory get a little more covered so she isn’t uncomfortable with someone else around.

Or me. So she isn’t uncomfortable with me around, either.

When a knock echoes from the hotel door two minutes later, Hades barks from behind the closed door, and Rory calls, “Hades, hush.”

He quiets instantly, and I go to let Macklin into the suite.

Brows stitched in concern, he examines Rory’s injury while I watch from the edge of the room.

This is its own kind of torture. Seeing her discomfort.

The stilted breathing. The glassy eyes. When he encourages her to straighten her arm, she hisses under her breath, and I fight the urge to throw Macklin out on his ass, knowing he has no choice but to cause discomfort as he pinpoints the real issue.

“You’re right,” he mutters, barely casting me a glance as he keeps his focus on Rory’s arm. “It’s dislocated.”

“That’s good,” Rory returns. “It means no hospital, right?”

His eyes meet mine again from across the room, coming to the same realization I had when she freaked out the first time I mentioned a hospital.

I give him a subtle nod, and he gives Rory his attention.

“I don’t think anything’s torn, so technically, no.

We don’t need to go to the hospital unless there are any complications with recovery. You want me to reset it?”

I can sense her hesitation as Rory licks her lips then forces out, “Yes. Yes, whatever you have to do so I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “On the count of three?—”

“Wait.” Rory turns her watery gaze back to me and reaches for me with her good hand. It shouldn’t surprise me, her request, but it does. Fuck me, it shocks me with the force of a live wire, and I stride toward them without hesitation.

The couch dips as I sit beside her. “I’m here, Squeaks. You got this. I’m here.”

Burrowing her head into the crook of my neck, she squeezes my fingers as hard as she can, and her head moves up and down against my skin as if to say she’s ready.

“One. Two.” Macklin snaps the joint back into place .

With a sharp gasp, Rory’s body tenses against me, and a cry wracks through her.

I wrap my arms around her back, holding onto her waist and keeping her pressed against me as wetness seeps through the collar of my shirt, making my heart crack in response.

I’ve never liked seeing her hurt. Never liked seeing anyone hurt, but especially Rory.

Outside of my baby girl, Rory’s the last person I want to witness go through something like this.

She’s too sweet. Too perfect. Too vulnerable.

I pull her closer, rubbing my hand up and down her spine as her fingers twist in my T-shirt and she silently cries against me, though I’m not sure if her tears are from relief or if she’s still feeling the aftereffects. Probably both.

“Gonna need some painkillers,” Macklin adds.

“I’m also gonna insist you wear the sling I brought after Jax told me what happened on the phone.

” He digs through his bag and helps fit it into place before handing her some pills to take.

“Here. Take these. They’ll help with the pain.

” Once she swallows them, he nods in satisfaction and turns to me.

“Jax, you good doing neuro checks every hour tonight?”

“Yeah, I got it,” I say, way too familiar with what to look out for thanks to my profession.

“Good.” He hesitates. “I’m also gonna walk you through some PT exercises in the morning.”

“Okay,” she whispers before dropping her head back to my chest as if it weighs a thousand pounds.

“Gonna need you to promise me something,” he adds. “If you have any complications, no matter how slight, you gotta promise you’ll let Jaxon take you to the hospital. We clear?”

She gives him a jerky nod but doesn’t lift her head to look at him.

Holding my stare, I read Macklin’s unspoken question. Do you need anything else?

I shake my head. “I’ll keep an eye on her. Thanks. ”

“Anytime.” He pats her back gently. “Glad you’re okay, Squeaks.”

“Mm-hmm,” she squeaks, earning the nickname for the thousandth time. “Yup. Thanks.” Her words are broken and forced, proving that, despite her tears, this is her best attempt to keep her shit together. It’s endearing as hell.

Realizing the same thing, Macklin’s mouth lifts in a tender smile. “Love you, Rore. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” I call. “Thanks again.”

He stands and heads toward the door. Once it’s closed, I kiss the top of Rory’s head again, refusing to overthink shit. “Let me see you,” I urge so I can examine her expression and make sure she’s okay.

Her bottom lip wobbles, but she lifts her head, letting me have my fill of her pathetically adorable expression. Grasping either side of her face, I brush my fingers along the trail of tears in hopes of erasing them. She leans into my grasp.

Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even like this. Her eyes swollen and bloodshot. Her hair in a lopsided messy bun with half the strands sticking out in every direction. Messy and unkempt and natural and…gorgeous.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“For what?”

She juts out her bottom lip even more. “For being a big baby.”

“Not a baby,” I rasp, though my amusement gets the best of me as I’m reminded of how cute the girl looks when she pouts. Shoving the thought aside, I remind her, “You just had your shoulder dislocated. Pretty sure it’s a solid excuse to shed a few tears.”

She sniffles but gives me a watery smile. “And what’s my excuse for all the other times?”

“Nothing wrong with crying, Rory.” I go to kiss her forehead again but stop myself at the last second. No need to create a bad habit. “We’ll, uh, we’ll make sure you’ll be okay. You should get some rest.”

Her head bobs on another nod. “You’re right.” Pulling away from me, she glances down at my T-shirt swallowing her body whole. “And, uh, thanks. For taking care of me and…everything.”

“Anytime, Squeaks.”

And fuck, do I mean it.