NUCA-
Charlotte had insisted on a second check up, so I was in a hospital bed I did not need, wearing a gown I hated, staring at the same short skirt that had put me in the wall.
Every time she shifted I groaned inside, because that damn thing was the reason I had arrived too deep at/ Turn 3, the reason a perfectly good Saturday had ended against a barrier, and now I had to look at it under fluorescent lights like the universe had a horrible sense of humor.
I told her I was fine for the tenth time.
She told me I had hit a wall and that a man could be fine and still needed to be scanned, which was how I had ended up here after a doctor had already said concussion protocol was clear, no fracture, go home.
Charlotte had smiled at him like he was.a child and asked for one more look anyway.
The doctor had looked at me for help.
I had looked at her and lost.
So. Hospital bed. Beeping I did not need. A gown that opened in the back.
I watched that skirt again and thought about tomorrow. I needed her fully covered if I did not want to destroy another corner.
Then the door opened and I was surprised to see so many people.
Nico first. Blair. Olivia. Grayson. Roman. They came in with bouquets bigger than I needed. It looked as if someone had raided a florist on the way here and then argued about who cared more.
I squinted. “For me?” I teased. “Thanks, Roman. Didn’t think you cared.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t. Olivia forced me.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Stop lying. You panicked when you saw him crash. You kept asking if he would be okay.”
I stared at him.
Then I laughed, and it hurt my ribs a little, which made it worth it. Roman looked at the ceiling like someone owed him an apology.
“I asked once.”
“You asked four times,” Grayson said. “I counted. It was embarrassing.”
“I will end you,” Roman told him, without a real threat in his tone.
Blair set flowers on the table. “You scared everyone. Don’t do that again.”
“I’ll put it in the notes,” I said. “No more crashes.”
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Nico sighed and dropped into the visitor chair. “That was unlike you today. You sure everything’s good? Felt like your mind wasn’t on the track.”
Charlotte went very still by the bed.
I tried not to look at her legs.
I failed.
There were too many men in this room. Nico. Grayson. Roman. Marco would make four. All of them had eyes. All of them could see that skirt if they looked down at the wrong second. The thought made my pulse race in a way the monitors did not need to catch.
“I’m good,” I said. “Too cocky. Late on the wheel. That’s all.”
It was a lie.
It was not like I planned on telling them I crashed because I could not get Charlotte out of my head.
Olivia snorted. Grayson set his bouquet next to Roman’s like they were competing.
“Blackridge would have benched you for that,” Grayson said. “Just saying.”
“I’m not on ice, captain.”
“Lucky. You’d be doing laps of shame.”
Blair elbowed him. “He’s in a hospital.”
“He’s in a hotel with extra beeping,” Grayson said. “Look at him. He’s already flirting with the nurses, I’m
sure.”
I stiffened.
Charlotte’s head snapped toward him.
“He is not,” she said, too fast.
The room noticed.
I noticed that the room noticed.
Roman muttered that he had not even wanted to buy the flowers. Olivia said he had chosen the expensive ones. He said they were closest to the door. She said he had read the card twice.
I grinned at him. “It’s okay. I care about you too, Vale.”
“I will leave.”
“No you won’t,” Olivia said, and he didn’t.
Marco came in with bags. Food. Drinks.
Did they think this was a party?
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He announced family delivery, then saw the room and said, “Ah. The whole crew,” like he had expected nothing less.
He nodded at everyone, clapped Grayson’s shoulder, gave Roman a look, and dumped containers on the tray table.
“Eat,” he told me. “Mom is freaking out and calling every minute. I have a headache. I need to send her pictures of you eating so she does not book a flight while I am holding this bag.”
“I will end you,” I said.
“You should be the last person making threats right now.” My brother grinned. “Now eat. Smile. I need proof of life or she will arrive with a priest and a lecture.”
He greeted the others and then started asking about the pregnancies like this was Sunday lunch and not the aftermath of me attacking a wall.
I ate because he would stand there until I did.
Charlotte hovered.
Skirt. Crop top. My name across her chest, because that was where they had chosen to put it.
Every time she moved I tracked her. Not because I thought she would fall. Because I thought someone else would look..
Nico watched me watch her.
I looked at the wall. Trying to play it off.
Charlotte bent to pick up a napkin that had slid off the tray.
The skirt climbed.
My brain left the building.
I sat up too fast.
Pain flickered through my side. The monitor jumped. The gown did something humiliating. A fork hit the floor.
“Luca-” Charlotte straightened, eyes wide.
Blair was already moving. “Don’t sit up like that,”
Olivia grabbed the bed rail. “What hurts?”
Grayson said, “If you die now I am not carrying the flowers back out.”
Roman actually stepped closer, which was how I knew I had made it look worse than it was.
Marco pointed at me with a container. “I told you to eat, not audition for another medical check.”
“I’m fine.” I snapped.
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I was not fine.
55 voulbers
wad just nearly launched myself out of a hospital bed because Charlotte bent over in a skirt in a room full of men.
My face was hot. My pulse was wild. I wanted to take off my gown, put it on her, and have every other person in this room face the wall.
Charlotte’s hands were on my shoulders, pushing me back down with a care that made my chest tight.
“You just crashed,” she whispered, furious and scared at the same time. “You do not get to jump. You stay. You let them look at you. You let me look at you.”
“I am being looked at,” I muttered. “That is the problem.”
She blinked.
Nico made a noise that might have been a laugh he swallowed.
“Seriously,” Nico said, quieter, after the room had stopped fussing. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Because if something’s in your head, better it comes out here than in Turn 3 again.”
Charlotte’s fingers tightened on the blanket.
“It’s handled,” I lied. “I won’t crash again.”
As long as she did not walk into the damn place like that again.
Roman, against his will, said I needed to be more careful.
Olivia’s face went soft.
“See. He cares.”
“I care about not watching a man lose parts of his body on television,” Roman said. “It’s not good for pregnant women to see such things. That’s different than actually caring.”
“Same thing,” she whispered.
Grayson lifted a drink Marco had brought. “To not dying.”
“To friends who bring flowers and insults in the same room,” I said.
They stayed.
They made it loud on purpose.
Blair fussed with the blanket. Olivia stole a fry. Nico scrolled the replay and winced at the ugly little twitch
I had caught too late. Roman stood near the door like a bodyguard who had been emotionally compromised and would deny it under oath.
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He was a bigger softy than I expected.
Charlotte would not sit.
She kept checking the monitor like she had gone to medical school in the last hour. She asked if my head hurt. If my neck hurt. If I wanted water. If I wanted the nurse. If I wanted her to make
everyone leave.
I wanted her to put on pants.
I did not say that.
I kept looking at her.
What the fuck was going on with me?
These feelings. The ones I had taken years to notice. The ones that had been there while I called her my best friend and meant the person I cannot lose, and never admitted I also meant mine.
I had crashed for a skirt.
Because I did not want other men watching her.
What the fuck did that mean?
I looked at her mouth. At her eyes, still a little red. At the way she stood between me and the rest of the room without noticing she was doing it.
I did not know the name for it yet.
I knew I did not want her to leave the room.
Marco caught me staring and said nothing, which was worse than a joke.
Charlotte adjusted the blanket again.
The skirt moved.
I shut my eyes before I could do something crazy, like stand up a second time and prove to every person holding flowers that I was not fine at all.
Tomorrow.
Race day.
I was screwed. Wasn’t I?
Mon Sep 20
The Hockey Captain’s Unwanted Wife
Dex Morgan
Dex works to elevate each story with clean writing, emotional balance, and thoughtful flow for readers.