“He’s asking for you.” She smiled at my uncle, who I could feel at my back, then returned her eyes back to me. “If you’ll follow me.”
I waved at my uncle and he nodded his head. “Call me when you find anything out.”
I nodded my head back at him and hurried after the woman.
She was a long-legged blonde with curly hair and a nice, perky ass.
“His room is right there,” she pointed.
“Thank you,” I dismissed her without a second thought.
The moment I breached the door, Hancock’s eyes turned to me, and then he breathed an audible sigh of relief.
The first thing I noticed was that he wasn’t on a ventilator, and he didn’t have any new holes in his neck.
The second thing I noticed was that he was naked from the chest up with blankets covering his lower half.
I momentarily lost my way and stared at his defined chest, before a rough, deep chuckle had me snapping back to attention.
“Hancock!” I cried. “You scared the fucking hell out of me!”
He held his hand out for me to take, and I latched onto that strong, masculine hand like it was my lifeline.
“They tried to cut my beard,” he muttered.
I didn’t point out that they did cut his beard.
Instead, I studied his throat, and the purple and blue bruising under his skin.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
“He’s doing great,” a doctor came in behind me. “He’s responding well to the anti-inflammatory meds we put him on. We’re just waiting for the results of the MRI and CT scan. As long as they come back clear, then he’ll be free to leave in another couple of hours.”
I turned my gaze away from the doctor to stare at Hancock.
“We’re worried, though, that he might have strep. However, we’re treating that with some antibiotics,” the doctor continued.
“If you gave me strep, I’m going to throw up all over your carpet,” I warned him.
Hancock’s mouth tipped up at the corner.
“Why be so specific?” he asked.
“Strep makes me puke…every single time,” I informed him. “And you’ll have to take care of me because I turn into an invalid,” I grinned. “Kind of like you did yesterday.”
His eyes shone with amusement.
“I’m actually surprised he was able to make it through the entire game without collapsing in exhaustion,” the doctor observed. “I was watching the game. He was amazing right up until that kid hit him.”
Hancock’s mouth tightened.
“Kid’s going to get his ass kicked the next time I see him,” he muttered. “Am I free to play at the game two days from now?”
Did he sound hopeful?
“Honestly,” the doctor hesitated. “I would give it a game. But if you can find a neck guard to play with for the next couple of games, and you’re feeling up to it, then I would say I think it’ll be alright…as long as your tests come back all clear.”
I grinned.
“Thank fuck,” Hancock smiled. “That’s the best news I’ve had in the last hour.”
The doctor left after giving his instructions while we were waiting on results, and I sat on the corner of Hancock’s bed.
“Can you turn that on?” He pointed to the TV.
I nodded, knowing he was looking for a recap of the game.
Not needing to be asked, I found the remote, turned the TV on, and found Sports Center without a word.
And, of course, the game’s highlights were on while a couple of analysts discussed the game.
“There have been other men hit in the neck before,” one of them said. “It’s a very dangerous area to be taking a hit.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Hancock muttered. “Show the replay.”
“It is, Pat,” the other man said. “From what I could tell, as they took him off the field, he was breathing, which was one of the main concerns.”
I rolled my eyes and continued to watch, standing next to Hancock’s bed.
“Here it is,” I turned it up.
We watched the confrontation before the hit, and then the hit itself, in silence.
Only after it was done did Hancock find his voice.
“Was there a fight?” he asked.
I turned to look at him.
He was staring at the TV with a whimsical look on his face.
“I don’t know.” I admitted. “I was with you. Though, from what I heard from the assistant trainers and the state of some of the players’ faces and knuckles, it seems that there was.”
Hancock grinned.
“Can you give me a drink of that?” He pointed to the small cup with a white bendy straw in it.
I immediately got it for him and brought the cup to him.
Instead of taking it, though, he leaned forward and drank it directly from my hand.
His throat worked, and his eyes closed as the cool water soothed his throat, and I realized two things.
One, the man was sexy, even bruised up and hurt.
Two, I was falling in love with him.