Page 64 of Hell Bent (Portland Devils #5)

WHAT MEN DO

Sebastian

I said, “I want to know how you got hurt, and I want to see it.”

Alix had sat on the bed, but now, she stood up and said, “Stop bossing me around. I said I’d show up, and I showed up.”

“You showed up late,” I said, “and you didn’t answer my text or my call.

There. Is. Something. Wrong. And I want to know what it is.

Look.” I sat down myself and took her hand—which was cold—to tug her down to sit beside me.

“You helped me. You gave me a hard time about not accepting help, and I listened. Now it’s my turn. ”

She sighed. “I slipped, all right? I slipped and fell. Also, like I said, my period is about to start, and that can ache a fair bit.”

“Especially if you’re worn down, I bet. OK. Show me where you slipped.”

She glared at me. “On my hip. Or you could call it my butt and thigh. What was worse, it happened at work, which means people saw, which means I had to log it and go to the first-aid station, which means my team’s safety record for the month just got blown with only three days left, and I’m pissed about that.

It was my own fault. I wasn’t being careful enough, and I know better. I teach better.”

I said, “I hear a lot of words. I’m not seeing how you’re hurt.”

“What,” she said, “I’m supposed to pull down my pants and show you?”

“Yes. How else am I going to know?”

“Fine.” She rolled over, pulled down the yoga pants and her underwear, and showed me.

Jesus Christ.

The bruise was the size of a salad plate and purplish-red, marring her hip, butt, and upper thigh, with some additional speckles of purple around it for decoration.

I said, “OK. Ice pack,” waited for her to pull up her pants, and gave her one of the extra-large gel packs I’d bought, slipped into its soft cover. “Is that a normal bruise for you?”

“For a bad fall, it is,” she said, rolling onto her side and draping the frozen pack over her butt.

“They’re worse on me because I tend to bleed into my muscles, and I fell on the edge of a concrete pad.

And before you ask, yes, bleeding into your muscles hurts.

If you have another one of those ice packs, my body seems to have decided to offer up another extra-painful period, too. ”

I didn’t say anything, just headed out to the kitchen and came back with another gel pack, which she held over her abdomen. I thought a minute, then sat down on the edge of the bed, put a hand over the pack on her butt to hold it in place, and said, “It really was a rough day.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It really was.” She may have blinked back a tear there, too. “How was yours?”

“Oh,” I said, “I’d rate it at ‘awful.’” I smiled, she did too, and that was better. Ben came in with the tea, saw the ice packs, and said, “Oh, man. Are you OK?” and that was better, too.

Alix said, “I’ll be fine. I missed being with you today, sort of sharing stuff, I guess, even though I was glad to have something to do. Confusing, like I said.”

“Yeah.” Ben headed to the door, then turned back. “Dinner’s coming soon, probably something really plain and healthy like boiled chicken breasts and broccoli, but I could order something else for you if you want. That tortilla soup, maybe. You liked that last time.”

She said, “That would be great. Would you go on and do that for me? And could you come here a minute?”

He hesitated, but did it, and she took his hand and said, “Thank you for thinking about me. It makes me feel better even pre-soup. Your mom would be proud.”

He ducked his head, said, “OK,” and got out of there, but he’d heard that.

I said, “You’re pretty special yourself, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, shifting a little. “I really may have come close to losing my job today.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. The boss—Howard, the guy you met—gave me a hard time about those two days off, especially since I asked for another day and a half to go to Baltimore. Once again, across the entire country. I didn’t even ask if you want me. I figure, Ben needs to go, and?—”

“I want you. Are you kidding? Of course I do. So you can’t ask for time off?”

“I told you. Sixty hours a week. Deadlines. And I’m a foreman. I could have snapped a little, though. I told him—” She stopped, then went on, “That there are other jobs.”

“Whoa. Bringing out the big guns.”

“Yep. And—OK. I’m going to say this. I’m really not feeling so hot. And I’m not—” She stopped, breathed, shifted .

Oh, man. There was my heart, speeding up and clenching, both at the same time. I had a hand on her head now, smoothing her hair back. Go easy, I reminded myself. No fussing. Careful as a man coaxing a wild bird to his hand, I said, “Go on.”

She said, “I could need another infusion, especially if I want to go to Baltimore with you. The fall, my period, and I’m probably a little run down.”

“Just a little?” I tried to smile. It wasn’t easy. “You got that infusion before, though. You said you have a place to get it, so what’s the problem? Need Thomas and Ben to take you for it, so you don’t have to drive? You’ve got it. I wish I could take you myself.”

“That’s not it.” She was frowning now. With pain, with fatigue, with frustration, with all three.

“If it’s not within clinic hours, I have to get that at the ER, so it’s at night, after work.

I’ll have to wait, and treatment takes another hour once I have waited.

I should go right now, to tell you the truth, but I just …

” Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t, OK? I can’t.

I’m too tired. I need to go, and I can’t. ”

“So you go in clinic hours. First thing tomorrow.”

“I’d have to call out. After I was just told today that I’ve taken too much time off.”

I said, “What is this, servitude?” Forgetting all about being cautious, suddenly furious.

She laughed tiredly. “Welcome to the corporate world. Oh, wait. You play for the NFL. What do you get time off for again?”

“All right.” I dialed it back with an effort. “You’ve got me there. But you know, they make it pretty damn easy to swallow that tradeoff. I can buy every bit of convenience there is. What about this job is so great that you can’t turn your back? ”

“I hear what you’re saying,” she said. “I do. But I’d have to admit that I can’t do it.”

“Ah,” I said. “Yeah.” And kept my hand right there on her hair, in case it helped. “Something to think about, eh?”

“Yes,” she said. “Something to think about.”

“Meanwhile,” I said, “here’s what we’re doing.

We’re both going to eat something, because we need it, and then I’m taking you to that ER, wherever it is, the one that’ll have your records.

Because if we don’t do that, I don’t think you’re making it to work tomorrow.

I know you’re tough, but working injured is a recipe for trouble, and with your period, too? No.”

“I don’t want to,” she said. “The chairs … Plus, you have practice tomorrow. We could be there for hours. What’s that going to do for your … your form, or whatever?”

“I’m still going to be able to kick. Don’t worry about me. And I’ll wrap you in a blanket. I’ll hold you in my lap. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make you comfortable while you wait.”

“Sebastian.” She was trying to laugh, and a couple of those tears had made it out. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No. I’m the man in love with you, and if you need an infusion, I’m going to make sure you get it.

You scoffed at my being-a-man definition before, but I’m trying again anyway.

This is what men do. They protect. Try poking a hole in that one, because if I know anything, I know this.

They protect, and that’s what I’m going to do. ”

Yes, I’d said the L-word. And I wasn’t sorry.