Page 51 of Playing for Keeps

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you were all right, to be here with you. You should never be alone in the hospital.”

“I’m not alone. I have two guys from the team with me. How’d you get past them?”

This is the part I’m worried about, but I may as well tell him because those guys are going to figure it out sooner than later—it’ll only take a phone call to the right person for them to find out my scam.

Sitting on the chair next to the bed, I say, “I told them I was your wife.”

After a blink of shock, he shakes his head and laughs loud and hard.

“Are you shitting me?” He calms himself and I’m relieved, but I don’t find it as funny as all that.

He says, “I’m flattered at the trouble you’ve gone to just to be with me in my moment of vulnerability, Chloe. Or I would be if I didn’t think you were planning to kick me with your spike heels while I’m down.”

“I swear, I told you I’m not here on official business. Did you have the MRI?”

“Yes. I’m waiting for the prelim results. The doc should be back soon.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Like a mother-fucker.” Then he smiles, double dimples, and I’m devastated. Moving closer, I touch his arm, then his face.

“You have me worried, Fontanna. I can’t stand the thought of you in pain.”

“Don’t worry, I can still—”

The door opens then, but I grin because I know what he was about to say before he clammed up. One of the guys from the team, the one I recognize from the medical staff, comes inside and looks pissed.

“I’m sorry about the intrusion, Tate.” He turns to me, “You need to leave. You’re not his wife.”

“It’s okay, Bill. She can stay.”

Bill looks back and forth between us, nods and leaves, closing the door behind him. The doctor comes into the room shortly afterward and Tate introduces me. To my immense pleasure and surprise, he doesn’t ask me to leave. Honestly, he should. I wouldn’t trust me if I were him.

“Looks like a slight compression of L4 an L5 and a mild strain. We’ll give you a shot and some pain meds and I’ll send the prescription to the team physician. Rest it as much as possible for the next two weeks—”

“Hell with that,” Tate says. I bite my tongue because I so badly want to tell him to listen to the doc.

“I need to play next Sunday. Can you get me there?”

“There’s a risk and it’s not going to feel too good, but sure, we can get you game ready. If you rest between now and then and we double dose the shots on game day.” The doctor flashes his eyes in my direction, looking slightly uncomfortable while I sit there holding my breath. I also find myself holding Tate’s hand. And squeezing. Hard. Tate gives me a squeeze back so I loosen my grip.

“Thanks, doc. Am I set to go?” The doctor nods and hands him a piece of paper.

“Pain meds. You can fill the prescription downstairs in the pharmacy before you leave.”

Once the doc is gone, I help Tate dress which turns out to be no easy feat with his back in acute pain. I can see the bruising on it already darkening.

“It’s a good thing I’m here to dress you, Fontanna, or you would have had to ask Bill for help and how awkward would that be?”

He laughs then groans. “Shut up, Smitty. Just get my shoes on me and take me home.”

Bill and his sidekick escort Tate down to the lobby and I run ahead to pull the car up out front so he doesn’t have to walk. The two men help him into my car.

“You sure you’re all set, Mr. Fontanna?” the man who I’m convinced is security asks.

“I’m fine, Gerry. In fact, I’m in very good hands,” he says with a smirk and I want to smack him but I don’t dare, not even a playful smack. Seeing his limited ability to move tonight, I’m wondering how the hell he’s going to play a game in ten days.