I pull Archangel into my arms while we wait, leaning into him. “Can we tell Seaborn to go sleep with Lovelace? Don’t tell me no; I’m injured.”
Archangel rests his chin on my chest. “You’re going to use that for weeks, aren’t you?”
“I took a puck to the neck. I think I deserve at least three to five business months.”
“Months?”
“I said what I said.”
He rolls his eyes but says, “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, we can sleep in the same room.”
“Good.”
We fill in Hawke on the drive back and give him the clearance paperwork to give to the medical staff. He agrees the team doctor can check me out in the morning. We head to Archangel’s room to kick Seaborn out.
“Do you think taking it easy means no sex?” I ask as we take the elevator up.
“It absolutely means no sex.”
“What are the odds you’re abiding by that?” I stare at him, trying to figure out which way he’ll go.
“Says the no sex during the playoffs guy.”
“Fuck.”
We step out of the elevator and head toward the room.
“I’m not bothering to get my stuff,” I say, suddenly tired as fuck.
“I didn’t think you would.” Archangel uses his key to open the door.
Instead of having to evict a sleeping Seaborn, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tense all over.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Everything okay with your dad?”
“I’m fine, but you’re going to want to see this.” He turns his phone around.
FORTY
ARCHANGEL
“I’m way too tired for this.” I don’t even care what’s on the screen. I’ve had enough panic over Wolfe hurt. I can’t handle anything else.
“What is this on?” Wolfe asks, taking the phone from Seaborn.
“Tumblr.”
“How old are you, thirty-five? Who even uses Tumblr? Hasn’t it gone the way of Myspace?” Wolfe hands him back his phone.
“Lots of people use Tumblr, and go fuck yourself. At least you know photos of you two are leaking before they are all over Twitter.”
“Photos of us are leaking?!”
This day will seriously not end.
