Fading Out (Living Heartwood 3) - Page 76

She shakes her head against the pillow. “But it’s not, Ryder. I need you to do something for me.”

The jolt in my heart knocks the air from my lungs. “What?”

“Win the championship.”

Running a hand through my hair, I suck in a deep breath. “Ari, I made my choice—and I don’t regret it.” I widen my eyes, unblinking, to hold her stare. “And if I had to do it again, I’d trade the past four years of perfect passes and touchdowns if that’s what it took to be here with you now.”

Taking my hand, she laces our fingers together. I love the feel of her soft, delicate hands. I want nothing more than to wrap myself around her and shield her from this pain so that she doesn’t have to face it.

“But I told you before”—she reaches up to rest her palm against my face—“with me, you don’t have to choose. There’s time, Ryder. I’m not asking out of guilt; I’m demanding out of love. I want you to win this game for yourself…and maybe a little bit for me

.” She bats her eyelashes dramatically, and I laugh.

“Oh, so we’re demanding things now.” I shake my head, but the truth of her words crash over me, liberating. “I don’t want to leave you,” I admit.

“You’re not. Not really.” She points to the flatscreen. “I’ll be watching the whole time. But you need to go. Like, now. You can make it, and I’ll be here safe and ready to have all kinds of revelations and uncomfortable conversations when you get back.”

Hesitant, I stay rooted in the chair.

She sighs, sending a yearning through me, then, “If you don’t play your ass off, I’m going to have a whole university—not to mention every diehard Bobcat fan—planning my demise.” She wrinkles her cute nose. “I’m not sure my Jag could survive a large-scale condom bombing.”

I stand and, cupping her cheek, my fingers securing the back of her neck, I angle her face to me. Then I lean over and kiss her. Her soft lips yield under my greedy need to feel connected to her, and I savor each caress they gift me. I’m tempted to wrap my arms around her and steal her away, but the feel of her tubes pressing against my stomach has me releasing her. I pull back.

“To be continued,” I say. “And when I get you back, there’s a whole bunch of making up we’re due for.”

Despite her weakened state and the darkened half moons beneath her eyes, there’s still a heat smoldering in her gaze, and that passion claws at my chest. She’s beautiful even when she’s sick. She’s strong even when she thinks she’s not. After we defeat Engleton, I’ll make it my mission to never see her in a hospital bed again.

I glance at my phone. “Hell. There’re only minutes before the start of the game.” Dread creeps through me; Coach is going to put a hurt on me like I’ve never felt.

Ari smiles and points toward the door. “Run.”

My chest swells with pride. As hard as I’ve fought in the past to prove myself to my father, my brother, everyone… There’s only one person I have to prove anything to.

Myself.

Ari—my smart girl—gets that, and she’s demanding that I do it right now.

“I love you,” I tell her, paused at the door.

Her bright smile fills me with confidence. “Go,” she says, laughing.

And I do. I bound right through the door and race out of the hospital with one goal in mind: creaming Engleton. My girl wants me to win the game. Our rivals will never face off against a more determined quarterback.

31

Arian

Vee mutes the hospital room TV. “I’m going for it,” she announces.

“That nurse is going to get you,” I say, accepting the remote from her. “Maybe I can get Markus to sneak us in some popcorn.” My stomach revokes this idea, but I’m trying to keep the mood light, even though I know Vee sees right through my lame attempt.

Regardless, she gives me a sweet smile. “Popcorn won’t cut it. I cannot watch Gavin on that field without anything less than chocolate. That last tackle about killed me.” She frowns, and I offer her my best commiserating sigh.

Mel groans at the both of us. “All right. I’ll make a run for it. I’ve got plenty of experience dodging feisty nurses.” She winks at me before popping out of her chair.

“We should both go,” Vee says, pushing herself up with a stretch. “If one gets caught, the other can go for help.” Mel nods on a shrug at this idea.

As they creep toward the door, preparing to be sneaky, I smile. Soon as they’re gone, I allow my features to relax, smile fading, and adjust the tube connected to my forearm to a more comfortable position.

Tags: Trisha Wolfe Living Heartwood Romance
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