Page 102 of Something Like That

“You should be resting.” She couldn’t keep the disapproval out of her voice. His condition was serious. He clearly wasn’t treating it with the gravity it required. “And someone should be monitoring your condition, for at least the next twenty-four hours.”

“Are you offering to stay with me?”

The teasing note in his voice made her stomach do somersault passes intricate enough to win Olympic gold. And when he cocked that ridiculously expressive eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitched.

She pressed her lips together, trying to stop the stupid smile that wanted to burst free.

He held out his hand. “Come on,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “I promise to take it easy. Just a quick stroll down the block to the water. That’s all.”

She should tell him no, insist he go upstairs and rest. Tell him they could talk later.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and threaded their finger. “A quick, gentle walk.”

Nick’s heart stopped beating the moment he held his hand out to Alex. She wasn’t going to take it. She was going to tell him to go fuck himself and storm out. And she’d have every right to because he’d been a massive asshole.

But, like always, she surprised him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers.

“A quick, gentle walk.”

The relief that barreled through him just about buckled his knees. His heart kicked back into gear with a whoosh. Some of the tension in his neck and shoulders melted away. His neck was still sore, and the ghost of a headache lingering at the base of his skull. But there was no way in hell he was going to mention it. At least not right now.

The two of them talking was way more important.

He led her out the door and onto the sidewalk. The night was cool, but clear. They walked in silence, crossing the street and heading down toward the water.

Everything he wanted to say was bunched up in his chest. He was glad for the time to sort through it all.

There was a little plaza thing at the end of the street, with a couple of benches that overlooked the water and made for a fantastic view of the Golden Gate Bridge. He sat and pulled her down beside him. Probably a little too close, since their thighs were touching, but he didn’t care. He was going to take the fact she didn’t shuffle away, or let go of his hand, as a good sign.

They sat there for a little while, neither of them saying anything. He kept his gaze straight ahead, not quite ready to look at her yet. His thoughts were still a jumbled mess.

Earlier, at the hospital, while he was getting the CT scan and they’d told him to relax, he’d closed his eyes, and the only thing he could think about was her.

How she looked when she had her professional, ass-kicking coach hat on. The way the sun made her hair shimmer. The sound of her laugh when he teased her.

He’d realized, in that moment, he wanted to hear her laugh for the rest of his life. He wanted to feel her snuggled against him every night. He wanted to wake up beside her every morning.

“Nick?” She squeezed his fingers.

He shifted so he could look at her.

She sucked in a shaky breath. “Nick, there’s something—”

“No, let me. Please.”

She gave a single nod, straightening her shoulders, bracing herself. He hated that he’d made her feel so defensive. Like she needed armor to protect herself from him. And, even though he didn’t deserve it, if she gave him a chance, he’d spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

He took her hands in his, cradling them against his chest. “You were right, Alex.”

She cocked her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder. “What?”

“You were right. About winning and the championship and me being an idiot.”

“I never said you were an idiot.”

“No, but you should have.” Unable to resist, he lifted one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against the back of it. Goosebumps pebbled the skin of her wrist. “I was so convinced that if I just won the stupid thing, everyone would forget what a fuck up I was.”

“You aren’t a fuck up.”