Page 18

Chloe

“You can sleep in here tonight if you want. There’s not much, but there’s a bed and a bathroom through the door there.” I glance around the room.

The comforter is white, matching the walls.

It’s pretty sparse, but it’s clean and available.

“Thanks, Coftman.”

“Do you need anything?”

I shake my head.

“I have my bag, so I’m good. Do you have more painkillers for tonight?” He nods.

“Be sure to take them. And you don’t have a concussion, right? You don’t need to be woken up.”

“I’m good; get some sleep.”

“You too.” He closes the door behind him, and I spend a few minutes getting ready for bed.

I’m used to sleeping in different places all over the country, so this isn’t really anything new for me.

Well, aside from the fact that I’m sleeping at Gunner’s house.

That part is new to me.

Thankfully, I’m exhausted, so I don’t have to overthink it.

I pull back the comforter on the bed, only to find that there are no sheets on the bed.

I debate a moment, wondering what to do before I decide to go look for some.

It can’t be that hard.

Only they’re not in any of the drawers in the room or the closet.

With a sigh, I quietly open my bedroom door and tiptoe out into the hallway.

Using my phone for a flashlight, I open all the doors in the hallway until I find a linen closet—one without any sheets.

Fighting the urge to groan, I lean my head against the closet door before looking over at Gunner’s door.

It’s not closed all the way; maybe I can sneak in there really quick and find them.

They have to be in a closet in his room because they’re not anywhere else.

My guess is he took pain pills and is already asleep.

As quietly as I can, I push open the door to his room and tiptoe inside.

I can hear his soft breathing, and I relax the slightest bit.

I tiptoe around his room feeling the wall until I find the opening for what must be the bathroom.

Once I feel cold tile beneath my feet, I close the door behind me.

Only then do I turn on the light.

A quick search of his bathroom reveals no sheets.

I resist the urge to cry in frustration and exhaustion.

I turn off the bathroom light and slip out of his bathroom and tiptoe across the floor.

I’ve given up; I’m just going to sleep on top of the blanket.

“Is there a reason you’re in my room?”

I shriek and spin around and try to remember how to breathe.

“Oh, my stars. You scared me,” I accuse, even though I can’t see him.

“Again, my room.”

“I know.” I take a breath.

“I am so sorry. It’s just there are no sheets on the bed, and I was trying to find some.”

He grunts.

“Sorry.” I hear the sound of movement.

“No, stop. Don't get out of bed. I’m fine. I don’t need sheets. I’ll just—”

“Did you check the hall closet?” he grunts out.

“I did. It’s fine. Don't worry about it.”

“Just sleep in here.”

I pause. “What?”

He sighs wearily. “Just sleep in here. We already slept together last night.”

“But your arm...”

“It will still be attached tomorrow morning.”

I stand in indecision for a moment. I really don’t want to sleep in bed with him...again. But I also know if I don’t take care of this right now, he’s going to get out of bed and try to deal with it. And he needs to rest and keep that shoulder still. “Okay. Are you sure?”

“Come on, Liessman,” he says in a voice that sounds like he’s already falling asleep. I remind myself that he’s on a heavy dose of pain killers and won’t remember any of this in the morning. I already have my phone, so I put it on silent and pull back the covers and gingerly climb into bed. I lay on the edge of the bed and hold still. His breathing is even, and I’m pretty sure he’s already asleep. I wait a little longer before I roll over. Yeah, he’s totally out . I stare up at the dark ceiling and wonder what in the world I’m doing. This is the second time in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve had to share a bed with Gunner. I turn my head towards him. I can’t see him, but I can feel his presence. My heart goes out to him, and my mind runs the gamut of what this injury could mean for him. My heart hurts, thinking about him being out for the season; and I sigh heavily. Hopefully, that won’t be what’s ahead for him. Slowly, I feel the weight of the last twelve hours begin to fade away as sleep starts to take over.

"Hey Bro, mom sent me—Oh...sorry.” The door closes quickly, and then there’s silence. I jerk upright in bed, holding the blanket to my chest, trying to restart my heart and figure out what day or even year it is. I blink at the sunlight and look over at Gunner and immediately look away. He’s not wearing a shirt. I’m not really sure what else he is or isn’t wearing, because the blanket’s over his lower half.

“Sorry.” His voice is mostly a rumble.

I turn my gaze on his face this time, and my heart clenches. “Oh, Gunner. Where are your pain killers?”

His eyes are closed, and his good arm is slung across his face. I climb out of bed and move over to his bedside where I see the packs of pain pills the medical staff must have given him. “Here.” I rip it open and give him two pills along with the water bottle that’s next to his bed. He sits up to take the pills, and I can see the pain clearly etched on his face. “So, that was fun.”

“ That was my brother.”

“Oh boy.” I knew he had a younger brother, currently in college; but I’ve never met him. “Well, I guess I’d better go set the record straight.”

“What record?” he asks, still not moving from the bed.

“That we aren’t sleeping together.”

“Pretty sure that’s exactly what he saw.” Gunner’s voice is little more than a growl.

I scowl at him, even though he still hasn’t opened his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

I make my side of the bed to put the pillows back in place. “You’re my fiancé; of course, he expects us to be sleeping together.”

I stare down at him. “You didn’t tell your family this isn’t real?”

“No.”

I stare at him. “Why ever not?”

“Because it’s supposed to be real to the world.”

I take a deep breath. “Okay. Fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” He doesn’t say anything more, and I slip out the door to head back to the guest room. After a quick shower, I dress in my spare outfit. I always pack one for trips because you never know what can happen. Only once I’m dressed and have my makeup on and my hair brushed, do I head out. I look through Gunner’s door and see he’s sleeping again. That’s good; he needs all the sleep he can get to heal. I take a deep breath and head out to the living room. His brother is sprawled out on the couch with a textbook and notebook on his lap.

“Hi, I'm Chloe.” I put out my hand.

He looks up at me and looks at my hand. “Hi, Chloe. I’m Greyson.” He gives me an assessing look before shaking my hand. He looks so much like Gunner, it’s unnerving.

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Yes, I’m sure you have.”

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to Gunner having a woman in his bed.”

That hits just right, though I don’t stop to consider why. “Yes, well.” I cock my head to the side and study him a moment. “How come I’ve never met you before at any of the team events or games or anything else for that matter?”

He shrugs. “I don’t go to a lot of events or games really. I have a full schedule of my own games throughout the year. I try to make a few of Gunner’s when I can, but it doesn’t happen all that much.” He returns my look, like he’s trying to figure me out. “So, what’s your deal? Who are you to my brother?”

“You don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,” he says slowly. His voice has that touch of irritation that sounds so much like Gunner, it makes me smile.

“Well, I hate it to be the one to tell you, but I’m your brother’s fiancé. Well, fake fiancé.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Come again?”

“Don’t you ever watch the news?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live under a rock?” I ask the question with a straight face. He gives me a look that is so Gunner, I can’t help but crack a smile. “You and your brother need to catch up apparently. But the long and short of it is there’s a woman claiming to carry your brother’s baby; which we all know is a lie. She won’t let it go, and it’s threatening your brother’s career. His endorsements are threatening to drop him, and it doesn’t look good for him as the captain of the team. So we came up with a plan—give him a fiancé. That will shut her up. At least, that’s the plan.”

“Let me guess,” he says dryly. "You volunteered for the job.”

I stare down at him. “No, actually, I told your brother no.” He cocks an eyebrow. “I am the PR manager for the Green Thunder, not that I have to explain myself to you. I don’t need to date any of the guys on the team to find my self-worth.”

He throws his arm over the back of the couch. “So, you’re saying, you’re not a puck bunny.”

I level a look at him. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

He grins at me. “I can see why my brother chose you.”

I ignore his words. “I have to go home. Are you good to stay here and check on your brother?”

He loses the relaxed look. “What’s wrong with Gunner?”

“Wow, you really don’t watch the news, do you? Your brother took a cheap shot last night by one of the players from LA. He flipped him, and Gunner’s shoulder took the brunt of the fall.” I know the guy’s name now. Ricky Sanchez. I did my homework on him last night. New to the league last year, a hot shot that’s just now making waves this season. I’m not sure why he wasn’t on my radar sooner; he should have been with the season he’s having. “He’s got a separated shoulder.”

“How long is he out for?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me yet, and I didn’t ask. But I do know if he has any hope of coming back quickly, he’s going to need lots of rest and ice and whatever else they tell him. I have to go because we’re supposed to have engagement pictures in like,” I glance at my watch. “Two hours. If he’s not up in an hour and a half, can you get him up?”

He nods, and I start towards the door with my bags. “Thank you.” I turn back to him. “For taking care of him. I know how surly he gets with an injury; I’m sure he was a bear.”

I shrug. “He wasn’t bad.”

He stares at me. “Huh.”

“All right. Well, it was nice to meet you, Greyson.”

He waves me off. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Okay.” I walk out the door and nearly run into Trent.

“I was just about to knock.”

“You can go on in. I think he’s still sleeping, though.” He walks past me, and I head to my car. The clock is ticking.