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“Ouch.” I wince like a little bitch, backing away from another antiseptic wipe. When Savannah first started cleaning me up, I thought that there was nothing better than being doted on by your wife after getting the absolute shit kicked out of you. Felt kind of domestic. Almost romantic.

Now? Now the wipes are hitting the parts of me that look like they lost a fight with a meat grinder, and suddenly the charm of it all has worn the hell off.

Savannah sighs apologetically before pulling out another wipe from our first aid kit. Then, because I apparently married a sadist, she dabs it right on the same damn spot on my cheek, the one that’s probably five minutes away from needing stitches.

I squeeze Savannah’s hips, dragging her attention away from the busted blender wound on my cheek and back to my eyes.

Where it belongs. “Hey, you know, it might be easier to clean up in the shower. Obviously, I’m in no condition to go in alone, so I’ll need your help.

” I raise my brows, waiting for her to take the hint.

I’m here. I’m alive and I want to fuck the brains out of my wife even if I can hardly move.

Madison makes a gagging sound. “We’re still here, perv.”

“Sorry, sis,” I say, not taking my eyes off Savannah, studying her face. Perfection. That’s what she is and she doesn’t even know it. “This is my house and I’m talking to my wife.”

Savannah slows her dabbing, and a small smile plays on her face. Her gaze connects with mine and without saying anything, I tell her everything.

Yes, that’s right. You’re my fucking wife. Always and forever.

Madison groans. “Yes. We all know you’re disgustingly in love.

” She raises her hand, flailing it in our direction.

Glad to see I can give her a little payback.

“She’s your wife, yada, yada, yada, I know.

We all know. What I don’t know is what the hell happened last night while I was curled up, snuggling Stanley, dreaming of his next costume change. ”

“It’s Mr. Biz,” Henry corrects my sister, who lets out an obnoxious snort.

“Ugh. That’s not an answer to my question, Henry. Why are you even here?”

Henry lounges on the couch like he owns the place. His legs are spread, his arm tucked behind his head with a smug grin plastered across his face. He’s clearly enjoying getting under Madison’s skin, which is both impressive and stupid as hell considering the company he’s currently keeping.

“Because your big bro needed a little help from me.”

She raises her brow. “You really think it’s a good time to talk about little things .” Her gaze drops to his crotch and my flesh would be crawling if I’d thought they actually did anything together.

“Like you’ve seen it.”

“At least I’ve seen something . Can I say the same for you?”

Silence .

Holy shit, she went there. We all know how hard it is for Henry to get dates these days, the kid has the game of a wet paper bag, but no one's mentioned it to his face. Madison did, though. She's absolutely ruthless.

“Ouch,” Henry gripes, and I almost feel bad for him.

She pokes her lip out in mock sympathy. “Aw, I’m sorry. I’ll stop if you tell me what happened last night.”

Henry raises his hands and looks at me with unease. “Sorry, Mads, not my place.”

“Seriously?” She looks at Dash first, who’s laid back in the recliner with his eyes closed and his hands laced across his stomach, trying to ignore my sister the only way he knows how…

by pretending to be unconscious. It’s a pretty effective strategy, considering she’s managed to get most things out of him before.

Although last night was more action than my giant goalie bestie has seen in a while, so he might actually need the sleep.

Her gaze turns back to Henry, who laughs stiffly under the scrutiny before straightening his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

Madison rolls her eyes, knowing she’s going to get nothing out of him.

Then she turns to Savannah, who’s perched beside me, ignoring Madison’s interrogation entirely by rummaging through the first aid box.

She raises her hands in annoyance. “Ugh. This is worse than the Scotty and Erik debacle. What the hell happened between the two of them, anyway?”

Silence again. My poor sister is getting absolutely nothing, and I guess it's down to me to throw her a bone so she'll stop circling like a goddamn vulture.

“Nothing happened,” I mutter, grimacing as Savannah moves up to the cut on my forehead that feels like it's been split open with an axe.

“Pfft.” Madison scoffs. “Like I believe that bullshit.” She throws her hands up. “Look after Stanley, they said. Dash and Henry are helping me with a surprise for Savannah, they said. Then they come home looking like they made out with a waffle iron all night and expect me not to ask questions?”

Stanley, who’s lying on his back at Madison’s feet, lets out a single bark before looking at me with his tongue hanging out.

“Thank you, Stanley. I’m glad someone understands my peril in this household.”

I sigh, rolling my shoulders carefully. “Look. The less you know, the better.”

Madison’s shoulders drop, and she raises her head to the sky. “Oh my gosh. You guys are acting like you went to some fight club last night and no one can talk about it.”

Silence.

Her smirk drops as she looks between us again, no one making eye contact this time. “Guys?”

More silence.

“What the fuck happened?”

I grit my teeth, shifting slightly, and grunt in pain because breathing is apparently a luxury I can't afford right now. Savannah wrapped my ribs last night and even though Henry was sure they were just bruised to hell and not broken, it's going to take me some time to feel human again.

“Nothing,” I repeat, my tone making it clear I’m done with this conversation.

Madison’s eyes narrow. “Someone has to tell me. You have a game tonight, Cade. How are you supposed to play looking like roadkill?”

“He’s not playing,” Dash answers, gracing us with his dark eyes opening for the first time in twenty minutes. Still as expressive as a brick wall, but that seems to be all he wants to add to the conversation.

Madison blinks. “Excuse me?”

Henry sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “Dash and I will let Coach know Cade fell down a couple of stairs and he’ll be ready for the next game.”

“Oh, and Coach is going to be totally fine with you feeding him that line of complete horseshit?” Madison asks.

Henry shrugs. “Why not? I study sports medicine, so I probably know more than him about the injuries anyway.”

“Cocky much?” She exhales loudly. “You’re all sketchy as fuck, you know that?”

No one says anything because we all know if we do, Madison will pounce like a cat on a laser pointer.

Without another word, she spins on her heel and stalks toward the door and beckons my dog. “Come on, Stanley.”

Stanley jumps from beside me on the couch and trots happily over to my sister.

“Where are you taking our dog?” I ask as she clips the leash on him.

“Well, clearly you can’t be trusted to look after yourself, let alone sweet Stanley.” She says his name in a baby voice as she bends down and lets him lick her cheek.

Dash moves off my recliner and makes his way toward my sister. “We’ll watch over him for the next couple of days while you recover.”

I nod, knowing they have a point. The way my body feels right now, like I've been hit by a fucking semi, making sure Stanley gets his walks will be the last thing on my mind. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Remember, Cade. You need to relax. We need you recovered enough so you can play against St. Michael’s next week,” Henry says, trailing behind them with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Next week? Yeah, that sounds a little premature with how badly my body is feeling, but maybe after a good night’s rest with my wife beside me, I’ll start to feel better.

After they say their goodbyes, the door clicks shut, and silence settles over the room again.

Savannah finally exhales, her fingers lightly brushing over my bruised cheek. I turn my head and press a kiss to her wrist, lingering there.

“You’re lucky,” she mutters as she wipes my face. “No broken ribs. No stitches. Just a hell of a lot of bruising.”

I don’t answer because I know she’s probably right. If I hadn’t managed to get through to Jeremy, would I be here right now?

“There. I think I’ve wiped down every last inch of you with antiseptic wipes.”

I tilt my head and let my gaze drop deliberately. “Well, you haven’t wiped every inch . ”

Her eyes follow mine and she catches the very obvious bulge straining against my sweats, only making her scoff.

“Seriously? You just got the crap beaten out of you, and you’re thinking about your dick?”

I shift, biting back a groan as pain shoots through my side. “It’s not thinking. It’s celebrating. I’m alive. You’re off the hook and managed to reconnect with a friend in the process. So yeah, I think there’s a lot to be thankful for.”

She shakes her head, but I see it. That flicker in her eyes, the subtle smirk on her lips. She’s into this, and it’s only making me want a little more.

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” I murmur, my voice dipping low as I reach for her wrist, tugging her closer. “But I’m also hard as fuck, and the only thing I want right now… is you .”

Her breath catches and she bites down on her bottom lip before she looks down at my crotch. “Fine, but only because I need to check and see if everything still works.”

“Good thinking, Mrs. Bright.”

She sinks to her knees between my legs, and her palms trail up my thighs with a slowness that borders on cruelty.

Every nerve in my body is on fire, some from the fight, most from her.

My head drops back against the couch with a dull thud.

My muscles ache, my ribs burn in pain, but none of it matters.

Not when she tugs at my sweats and frees my cock.