Page 77 of Colliding with Ten

The crew member scrambled toward the mini-fridge, while another rifled through a first-aid kit. Within seconds, concern rippled through the crew.

“It happens sometimes. I just need to rest it.”

“Still,” one of the assistants said, holding up a small jar. “We’ve got this muscle cream. It’s cooling and can help with the inflammation.”

Ayla’s eyes shifted in recognition. “Oh, that stuff? Yeah. I used it when I was healing. It’s a lifesaver.”

She passed both the jar and a ziplocked bag of ice. Ayla reached for them, but I was there, taking them before she could.

“Lennox—”

“Let me,” I muttered, crouching in front of her.

Voices faded around us as I wrapped the ice in a towel and placed it on her knee. Her leg tensed under my hands.

“Cold,” she hissed through her teeth.

She looked down at me with a warm, grateful smile. The set lights caught the highlights in her curls, haloing her face. “You’re very bossy.”

“You’ll survive it.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” My fingers adjusted the ice pack, careful not to press too hard. “I want to.”

She smiled.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“About what?”

“The pain. You’ve been limping since you walked in here.”

She winced. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Hard not to. You’re tough, but that doesn’t mean you need to pretend. You’re still healing.”

“You ever tried being a dancer for a living? Everyone expects you to be graceful all the time. It looks bad if I limp like someone’s grandma.”

One of the crew members came over with an ACE bandage. “Here. This might help keep the ice on,” she said, eyes darting between us.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it before Ayla did.

With that, I began wrapping the bandage around her knee, my fingers touching bare skin with each loop. We laughed when I messed up the loop, and the bag of ice popped out of the pocket I'd made. After tying the last knot, our eyes met before I looked away, not wanting to forget where we were.

“You should elevate it when you get back to the hotel.”

“I will.”

“And ice it again. Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off.”

“Okay, Dr. Monroe.”

I shook my head, fighting a smile. “I’m serious.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

I wiped my hands on my joggers and looked around the studio. The crew was resetting the lights for the interview segment. A production assistant was arranging two chairs on set.