Page 20 of Desperate Pucker (Denver Bashers #6)

Ryker

“It feels like there are rocks in your shoulder blades,” my physio, Eric, says while he works out the tightness in my shoulder.

He presses his thumb against the knot in my muscle, and I wince.

“Remember to breathe,” he says.

“All the breathing in the world isn’t going to help,” I mutter. “This hurts like hell.”

He chuckles. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have gone out drinking last night.”

“I had one shot of tequila and a gallon of water,” I say.

“You finished Maddy’s shot too, remember?” Xander says from the table next to me.

I roll my eyes. “That was half an ounce.”

Eric digs into my deltoid. I bite back a yelp.

“Even just a little bit makes a difference,” Eric says. When he lets up, I exhale sharply.

He pats my shoulder. “In all seriousness, though, you’re looking good overall. You’ve been taking your recovery and training seriously, and it shows.”

Camden walks into the room. “Hey, have you guys seen Madeline today?”

Xander and I shake our heads. Our physios say they haven’t seen her either.

“Why, what’s up?” Xander asks.

“I was supposed to meet with her earlier this morning for a skating lesson, but she never showed up.”

Xander looks at me. “You saw her last night, right?”

“Yeah, I drove her home,” I say.

“Did she seem okay?” Camden asks.

“She was a little drunk, but I watched her walk into her apartment. She seemed fine.”

Worry sparks through me. What happened to Maddy between last night and this morning?

“Did you try calling her?” Xander asks Camden.

“Yeah, a few times. She didn’t answer.”

That worry gnaws deeper in my gut. I push off the table and wrap a towel around me.

I grab my phone and call Ingrid. She’s Maddy’s closest friend on the team. Maybe she reached out to her.

“Hey, what’s up?” Ingrid says in her trademark cheery voice.

“Have you heard from Madeline today? She was supposed to train Camden this morning and never showed.”

“No, I haven’t, but I’ve been gone at a social media conference all morning, so I haven’t been at my office.”

“She didn’t call or text you?”

“No, she hasn’t,” Ingrid says. “That’s so weird. It’s not like Madeline to no-show. She’s been here every day since she started working for the team.”

“We’ll track her down.”

“Thanks, Ryker. Let me know when you hear from her, okay?”

“I will.”

I hang up and look at the guys. “I’m gonna go to her apartment and check on her.”

“Keep us posted,” Xander says.

“Will do.”

I get dressed and drive over to her apartment. I call her on the way, but there’s no answer.

I find a parking spot on the street behind her building, then make my way to the front entrance. I buzz her apartment number, but no answer.

I buzz again. No answer. I buzz again and again.

Finally, a minute later, there’s an answer.

“Hello?” Maddy answers in a tired voice.

Relief hits. “Hey, princess.”

“Ryker? What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.”

“Why?”

I almost laugh at how pissed off she sounds. “Because you didn’t show up for work and everyone is worried about you.”

“What the…” She lets out a tired groan. “Damn it,” she mutters.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have food poisoning. I texted Camden to let him know I wouldn’t make our session today, but I was so exhausted and out of it that I didn’t send it.”

That worry inside of me flares up again. She’s clearly not doing well and needs help.

“Buzz me up.”

“Why?” Again with that defensive tone.

“So I can take care of you.”

She’s quiet for a second.

“I don’t need you to do that.” Her voice is softer now.

“Yeah, you do. Will you please let me up so I can help you?”

A second later, the door unlocks. I walk in, take the stairs to the third floor, then head to her door.

I knock and wait for her to answer. A minute later, the door opens.

My chest aches at the sight of her. She’s hunched over, clutching her arm over her stomach. She’s pale, her lips are chapped, and her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

She looks so small and so weak. Every muscle in my body twitches with the urge to pull her into my arms and hug her tight.

It takes all the willpower I have not to do it. She’d fucking hate that.

“See? I’m fine,” she says in a tired voice.

I shake my head. “Jesus, Maddy. You’re clearly not fine. What happened?”

She steps aside to let me in. I slide off my sneakers and shut the door behind me. Gently, I take her arm and lead her inside her apartment.

“I think it was the hot dog.” She groans.

“When did you start to feel sick?” I walk her to the living room and help her lie down on the couch.

“In the middle of the night.”

She curls on her side in the fetal position, rests her head on a pillow, and closes her eyes. I grab the blanket that’s bunched up at the end of the couch and drape it over her.

“How come you’re not sleeping in your bed?” I ask.

“I sweat through my bedsheets when I got sick,” she mumbles.

“How many times have you vomited?” I sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and push her hair out of her face.

“A hundred.”

I mutter a curse. She’s probably dehydrated from throwing up so much and from sweating.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“Some water,” she murmurs.

I stand up and head to the kitchen. Her apartment is a massive open-concept floor plan, with the living room, kitchen, and dining area in the same space.

I text the guys and Ingrid that she’s sick with food poisoning and won’t be coming into work today, then I fill a glass of water.

I walk back over to her. “You need to be drinking way more water.”

She makes a face. “I’m not thirsty.”

“You’re dehydrated, Maddy. You need to be drinking fluids constantly, otherwise you’re not going to get better.”

She opens her eyes and sighs. “Okay.”

I help her sit up and hand her the glass of water. She takes a long gulp, then stops to catch her breath.

“Drink that entire glass,” I say. “Every last drop.”

“So bossy,” she mutters.

My brain flashes back to our hookup in the elevator, how she whined about me being bossy.

I raise my eyebrow at her.

Oh, princess. You have no idea.

Her cheeks flush as she stares at me. She looks away and drinks more water, then glances around.

“What are you looking for?” I ask.

“My phone. I need to apologize to Camden for missing our session.”

“I texted him that you were sick. I texted the guys and Ingrid too.”

She frowns like she’s confused.

“They were all worried about you when you didn’t show up for work.”

“Oh. Thank you,” she says quietly.

She drains the last of the water in her glass and hands it to me. I walk to the kitchen to refill it for her.

When I look up, she’s lying back down on the couch again, eyes closed.

“Hey, have you…” I trail off when I feel something brushing against my leg. I glance down and see a fluffy white cat with a brown face.

It rubs against my ankles, then looks up at me. I frown. I don’t like cats. “You have a cat?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” she says without opening her eyes.

He makes a soft meowing sound. I look at the counter and see a small bag of cat treats.

“I think he wants a treat.”

“Can you give him one?” she says in a tired voice. “There’s a bag on the counter.”

I open it, grab a couple, and set them on the floor in front of him. He immediately starts purring.

I refill her water glass and walk back over to Maddy.

“Have you eaten anything?” I ask.

Eyes closed, she wrinkles her nose. “No. Food is disgusting. Yuck.”

“You need something in your stomach, Maddy.”

“My stomach can barely handle water. I don’t want food.”

“How about some soup then? You have any broth?”

“I don’t know what I have.”

I head back into the kitchen and open up her refrigerator. It’s almost empty. There’s an apple, half a head of Romaine lettuce, some eggs, a Tupperware container with what looks like spaghetti sauce, and a handful of condiments.

“Maddy, your fridge is bare.”

“I don’t like to cook.”

I feel rubbing against my ankle again. I look down and see her cat smushing his face against my socked foot.

“Your cat is weird.”

When I look up, her eyes are closed, but she’s smiling. “Is he rubbing his face all over your feet?”

“Yeah.”

“He loves feet.”

“Gross.” I pull my foot away, but he just starts rubbing against my other foot. I grumble, annoyed.

“Bruce is my cute little weirdo,” Maddy says.

“Your cat’s name is Bruce?”

She yawns. “Yup. When I first got him, I thought he was a girl, so I named him Belle. But then I took him to the vet, and they said he was a boy. So I changed his name to Bruce.”

The corner of my mouth hikes up. “That’s a very butch name for such a fluffy and pretty cat.”

She opens her eyes and frowns at me. “It’s a great name.”

I look down at the cat. “You’ve got a weird name, Bruce.”

“Don’t say that to him. You’ll hurt his feelings.”

The urge to laugh tickles my throat. I walk back over to her. “I’m going to go out and get you some food.”

She closes her eyes. “Yeah, okay,” she murmurs.

I spot the key fob to her apartment building on the counter and grab it.

“I want that glass of water to be empty by the time I get back.”

She makes a sleepy “mmhmm” sound. Bruce trots over to the couch, hops up, and cuddles on top of her feet.

“Bruce is gonna hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“Mkay.” Another sleepy noise.

I smile at the cute image of Maddy and her cat, then I leave.