Chapter1
Owen Bliss
“Owen.”
I hear a woman’s voice saying my name but I can’t open my eyes. Both lids weigh a ton. Hard as I try, I just can’t make the fuckers open.
“Is it normal for him to be so groggy?”
I recognize my mom’s voice and hear the worry in her tone. What is going on? Why am I so sleepy? And why the hell can’t I open my eyes?
“Nothing’s wrong. He’s only been out of surgery fifteen minutes. Some people are slower than others to wake up after anesthesia.”
Oh, right. I had surgery on my fucked-up shoulder. At least it’s not hurting.
“Owen, I need to get your vital signs again.”
Again? Guess I’ve been out cold; I don’t remember having my blood pressure taken at all.
My upper arm is squeezed tightly and then released. “O… wennn. Think you can wake up and look at me?”
The woman’s voice is soft and sweet, very much like a little girl’s. And so familiar. Makes me want to try harder to open my eyes so I can see her.
I successfully peek through one and then both eyes after several attempts. My vision is blurry, so I blink a few times to bring the woman into focus.
“Hey there. Looks like someone is trying to wake up.”
I’m sleepy as fuck but I fight to keep my eyes open so I can make out the woman’s face. “My name’s Ash. I’m your recovery room nurse.”
Her long honey-blonde hair has fallen forward and is acting as a veil to hide her face as she leans over me. I want so badly to push it away so I can see what she looks like. I wonder if she has an angel’s face to go along with that soft-spoken voice.
“Assh.” My tongue is still thick from anesthesia so her name comes out slurred and sounding more like Ass. Even sedated, I know that’s not great.
She giggles before tossing her hair over her shoulder so she can look at me. “Do you need something?”
I blink again to bring her face into focus. Porcelain skin. Rosy cheeks. I don’t know if I’m still disoriented from the anesthesia or not but I can’t give her eye color a name. They’re a peculiar mix of green and brown with golden flecks. Hazel, I think? “You…are…beautiful.” Wow. I was thinking that—and then poof—the words came tumbling out of my mouth.
Her expression changes to one I can’t place. Maybe a cross between concentration and confusion? “They must have given you some good drugs in surgery.”
“No, honey, that’s my son all the time. I’m not the least bit shocked he’s barely awake after anesthesia and already flirting with a pretty girl.”
OK. I can’t be hallucinating if my mom said that. “See? She thinks you’re pretty too. And she hasn’t had drugs.” I’ll be glad when I can hold my eyes open for more than a few seconds so I can get a better look at her.
“I need to look at your dressing.” My nurse leans over and pulls the top of my hospital gown open to inspect my arm and shoulder. She takes a pen from her pocket and draws a circle on my bandage.
“Looks OK?” Fuck, she smells good. I open my eyes, and damn, her tits are right there in my face.
“All good.” She glances at me and then quickly looks away when our eyes connect. “How’d you mess up your rotator cuff? Chasing too many girls?” Her question could be taken as comical but her tone lacks humor.
“Pitching for the Mets.” That earns a smile from her. But also a head shake.
“Ah, you are a funny one.”
I close my eyes when a wave of drowsiness rushes over me. “Old pitching injury.”
“Which he re-injured by throwing a speed ball.” Mom hasn’t been shy about voicing her aggravation with me. “Doctors warned him over and over that he was going to do serious damage if he didn’t stop pitching. But did he listen?”
“I guess you’ll listen now.” She closes my gown and steps away as she puts her hands on her hips. “Dressing looks good. Need anything? Head of the bed up some more? Ice chips? Bathroom?” What’s she going to do for me in the bathroom? Hold my dick for me? Maybe I need to take a piss if that’s the case. I wouldn’t mind her hand on my cock.