Since, you know, we aren’t together.
“Foot,” she says, and there is no mistaking the command lacing the single word. She slides closer, rearranging her legs so her right one stays up. “Tape, kind sir,” she adds, patting her lap.
She doesn’t give me a chance to argue. Before I can react, she lifts my foot and discards my slide and sock to tenderly and expertly examine my ankle. Not surprising since she was one of the best in her class.
“You ever miss being an athletic trainer?”
“Yes and no,” she says without giving anything away. “How’s the rotation? Any joint pain?”
My pulse skyrockets, and I pray she can’t feel it in my foot. “Joint’s fine. Mostly just a little discomfort on the outside where it rolled,” I admit before handing over the roll of stretch tape.
As she peels the previous tape job off none-too-gently, I know she’s getting a kick out of my quiet discomfort. She always has had a dark sense of humor.
“Think you could leave some hair on my leg? ” I joke through the sting of more adhesive ripping away leg hairs—and maybe some skin as well.
Once she has all the old tape off and inspects the ankle again, she tears fresh strips as muscle memory takes over. When she places my heel in the center and folds strips up and around,pulling tight on a few, I realize it’s almost identical to how Liam wrapped it.
When she secures the last piece, she glances up, and I watch as she finally allows herself to look at me.
I find myself leaning forward slightly, my foot still in her lap. Her delicate hands seem tiny compared to my size-thirteen foot, but we always were a sight together, especially in my gear. Her five-foot-nine has nothing on my barefoot six-foot-four.
When her eyes settle on mine as her fingers trace lightly along my leg, it takes everything in me not to lean forward and breathe her in, taste her lips. I bet she still tastes like minted honey.
A clanking of dishes followed by Noah’s string of curses breaks the moment. Oakley Kate is the first to look away, a slight blush covering her cheeks, and I use the moment to adjust myself in my pants all the while praying she doesn’t notice.
She clears her throat twice before looking up at me through thick lashes. “Did you bring an ice wrap? There’s still a little heat.”
I should look away. Remove my foot from her lap. Something.
Instead, I let her continue to torture me. I’m a glutton for punishment. She could do anything to me if it means she’ll keep touching me.
Okay, maybe I am a little touch starved.
“Um, yeah. Noah brought it in.”
“Noah! Bring me the ice packs!”
“How do you ask?” he shoots back without coming this direction.
He’s lucky he can’t see the look on his sister’s face.
“Bring ice packs, now?”
Mrs. Slater’s snort of laughter at her oldest and youngest’s bickering covers Noah’s exasperated sigh. I hear the freezer door open and close before two ice wraps are flying overhead, nearly pelting us both.
“Damn, dude. Work on the aim,” I snap with more fire than intended. “Your sister can’t exactly beat your ass right now, but I can.”
“You’re both fine, you big pansy. A gel pack isn’t going to hurt if it hits you,” says the guy begging for a knock upside the head.
Oakley struggles to keep a straight face as she puts her hands on her hips. “Hey, I’m a delicate little flower.”
“You’re full of shit is what you are,” Noah shoots back.
Oakley sticks her tongue out at him, and for a second it feels like old times. Before life threw us every nightmare imaginable and everything fell apart.
“I’m a perfect little angel. Just ask Mama.”
This time, I can’t hold in the huff of laughter at her deadpan delivery. “Angel of mass destruction, maybe.”
