Stan had explained how my wolf being knocked unconscious too had affected my recovery, or lack of it.
I stifled a yawn, but Stan caught me as he passed by with clean sheets.
“I’m putting you to bed.”
How I wished he was joining me.
He helped me into the bedroom and stood over me while I took the pills prescribed by the doctor.
“When did you get so bossy?” When we were dorm mates, he was more subtle, though I often did what he suggested.
“Let’s think.” He tapped his lips. “I’ve got it. When you ended up in my ER after playing tag with a car.”
“Got it.”
Stan covered me with a thick quilt, saying he was going to cook dinner. “And tomorrow, we have to convince your wolf to take his fur.”
Don’t want to.
We both might feel better after a nap.
I didn’t want to shift but preferred to hide under the covers and pretend that my hockey-playing future wasn’t in doubt.
I didn’t get that dinner because I slept for more than twelve hours, and when I opened my eyes it was light out and an enticing coffee aroma had crept under the bedroom door.
Heaving myself up and cursing I hadn’t called out to Stan, I swayed like a ship on a stormy sea as I made my way to the living area.
“Morning. How are you feeling?” Of course he’d heard me approach because I sounded like a herd of elephants. But he also would have scented me like I did him.
The whole house scented of Stan, and it reminded me of when we were living together. No matter how tired I was when I got back from a game or practice, his scent smoothed my aches.
“Like I got hit by a car.”
“That’s an improvement. When we were driving and you were in and out of consciousness, you said you’d been hit by a truck.”
Oh yay. I was marginally better.
He brought me coffee and juice and made scrambled eggs. He’d never cooked for me before. I didn’t know he could.
My wolf was so subdued he wasn’t niggling me to mate Stan. And that worried me. Maybe he had a concussion too.
Eating with my left hand was awkward and bacon skittered onto the floor. Stan cut up $my food and fed me a few mouthfuls. That was both embarrassing and adorable. He even wiped my chin.
After we’d eaten, he suggested a walk in the woods. Though the ground was uneven and my ribs complained when I moved, leaning on Stan’s arm would keep me upright.
“Let’s take it slow. Being outside could encourage your wolf to shift. The scent of a deer or rabbit might be enough of an incentive to get him out of your skin.”
It was cool in the woods but I was sweating, and Stan gripped my arm.
“You don’t have to do this today.”
But I had to try because if my wolf was injured, that would affect my balance, sight, reflexes, and hearing. I’d never get on the ice again.
Stan undid the buttons on the PJ shirt he’d loaned me and slipped it off my shoulders while I gritted my teeth. Maybe it was my imagination but he stared at my chest for longer than was necessary before moving back.
He gave me privacy, not because either of us was embarrassed about my nakedness. We were shifters, not humans who were kinda puritanical about dicks and balls. Nope, my friend thought it might be easier if my beast and I were alone.
I had gone commando because briefs were too hard to put on. After leaning on a tree and wriggling off my sweatpants, I pleaded with my wolf to come out. My wrist was in agony, andif he took his fur, my pain might be in the past, but he couldn’t. I wandered through the bushes, pointing out a rustling in the undergrowth and the birds above us singing, the breeze swaying the branches and how the tall trees filtered the light.
