He grunts, but doesn’t argue, and sinks down gingerly on the edge, mouth set like a locked door against whatever pain is in his back.
That is worrying.
I point a finger at him. ‘Stay put. I’m getting ice. The first forty-eight hours ice, then heat. You know the drill.’
He grumbles something unintelligible, but doesn’t move an inch.
When I come back, he’s still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
‘Take these.’ I drop the ibuprofen into his palm and hand him a glass of water. He swallows them down without a word.
I glance around the room, taking it in for the first time. It’s not just a bedroom.
It’s also a damn greenhouse.
Plants everywhere. Vines draping down from the shelves, a huge potted fern in the corner. I can barely see the walls.
I raise a brow. ‘Are you secretly running a garden centre?’
‘It’s a hobby, keeps me grounded. Plants don’t judge, they just grow. And they help me sleep. Calm me down.’
I snort, amused, endeared, and taking the piss. Just a little.
He shoots me a look. ‘Shut up.’
I sit down beside him on the bed, shoving the ice pack under his shirt, pressing it right to the sore spot on his back. He hisses, but I don’t ease up.
‘You’re such a bloody fool,’ I say louder than I should. ‘Pushing yourself like this. What good are you to anyone if you break yourself in half?’
He scowls at me with a side-glance ‘I’m fine. Only a knock. Nothing I haven’t handled before.’
‘Doesn’t impress me. You’re not a machine, Brodie. Throwing yourself past the line doesn’t make you a leader.’
‘It’s my job to push. To take hits. You think I can afford to half-arse it? Not when the lads are looking to me to set the bar.’
‘Set the bar, not hurt your spine,’ I fire back. ‘You’re the captain. Act like it. If you’re out there throwing yourself into tackles like a maniac, they’re gonna think that’s the standard. You want your team to end up in A&E because you’re too thick-headed to know your own limits?’
‘Oh, I know my limits.’
‘Clearly.’ I shove the ice into place, no mercy. ‘You can’t lead or play from a hospital bed, MacRae.’
‘You done lecturing me?’
‘You done being a dick?’ I don’t back down. ‘So, no. Not till you admit you’re being an irresponsible arse.’
His shoulders drop, and some of the fight bleeds out of him. ‘Fine.MaybeI overdid it a wee bit.’
‘Maybe? A wee bit?’
He grunts, not conceding but not denying it either. And that’s about as close to an admission as I’m going to get from him. Still, it’s enough to take the edge off my own temper.
I ease up on the ice pack. ‘Next time you throw yourself around like that, I’ll kick your arse myself. Got it?’
He glances at me, a half-smile softening the line of his mouth. ‘Like to see you try.’
‘Oh, don’t tempt me,’ I mutter, but a smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it.
My eyes snag on something bright, pink, and sparkly on his dresser, overshadowed by an obscenely huge monstera.
