Fake Skating(113)

I sucked in a breath, feeling like I was drowning from how badly I wanted to give in, to just let go and fall into the magic of his words.

“But Benji could still—”

“Fuck Benji,” he interrupted, his eyes on me as his left hand reached under the bed rail and started moving around, his fingers searching for something. “Benji can’t touch us.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, watching his hand fumbling all over the rail panel. “Alec.”

“Trying to get this damn bed rail to go down,” he said. “I know there’s a button somewhere because I saw the nurse hit it.”

“What?” Maybe the painkillers they’d mentioned were kicking in. “You probably shouldn’t—”

“I’m confessing that I’ve loved you forever, and it doesn’t work for me to be confined to a bed and for you to just, like, stand there,” he said, “listening and looking at me like I’m crazy.”

I bit down on my lip because it was a terrible time to laugh, but suddenly—instantly—I was filled with so much happiness that it didn’t want to be contained.

I smacked his hand out of the way, pushing the release latch so the rail went down. “So what does work in this scenario?”

“Collins, you fucking goddess,” he said, his mouth sliding into that boyish grin I loved. “I was thinking something like this.”

I don’t know how he did it, but one unexpected hard tug on my shirt with his good hand and I fell forward, closer, half sprawled out on top of him.

“Alec!” I squealed, then got lost in uncontrollable cackling when he used his legs to somehow maneuver me fully onto the bed with him.

“Well, hey there,” he said, grinning as I pushed at my out-of-control hair and scrambled into a sitting position. “It feels good being back together, doesn’t it?”

“We aren’t back together,” I replied, giggling. “Not until I say we are.”

He swallowed and his tone went softer, deeper, when he said, “Then say it, Goldilocks.”

“Fine,” I replied, a thousand thoughts going through my mind, all of them happy. “We’re back together.”

“Okay, so listen, I’m gonna need your help,” he said, his dark eyes making my stomach weightless as they dropped down to my mouth. “I need to kiss you like… two days ago, but I can’t really move my upper body, so—”

“Enough said,” I managed, my heart fluttering as I leaned over him and leaned in, my eyes never leaving his.

But as soon as I got close, he reared up, his lips finding mine as if he couldn’t wait another second. He was hands-free, his mouth the only weapon at his disposal, but he didn’t need anything else, dear God.

I set my hands on his hard jawline, wanting grip because I was under attack.

“Danigirl,”he breathed against my lips, licking into me and stealing my breath, delivering white-hot, wide-open kisses that I felt everywhere. The sound of his unsteady breath made my chest burn, and when my fingers found their way to his thick, hockey-mussed hair, I dug in and tugged because what else could I even do?

He grunted—in such a good way—and nipped my bottom lip, sending shocks through my entire body—

“The doctor is in the building so it’s time to take you—ahem,” I heard, and when I jerked back from Alec and turned around, nearly falling off the bed, a nurse was walking into the room.

With Alec’s parents beside him.

And my mom.

And my grandpa.

I could die.

“Busted,” Alec muttered, and I could hear the smirk in his voice, but I wasn’t about to look at him as I jumped off that bed.

“Who lowered the bed rail here?” the nurse asked, his eyes narrowed.

“She did, Dan,” Alec said, pointing at me and making my mom—and his parents—grin.

And he was full-on smiling, beaming like a happy toddler.

The shit.

“Young lady, he’s got pain medication in his IV, so he’s a fall risk,” the nurse said with a scowl, but he also looked like he was messing with me. “These rails need to be up.”

“Yes, but,” I said, noticing on his badge that his name was actually Dan, “he told me to do it.”

“I’m impaired, though,” Alec said, slowly shaking his head like I was the problem. “On account of the aforementioned pain medication.”

“You’re suddenly a smug little shit, aren’t ya, Charleston Chew?” Grandpa Mick said.

“Charleston Chew,” I repeated with a snort, falling into unstoppable giggles at the smart-ass nickname.

“No,” Alec said, pointing at me.

“If you two are done canoodling,” Dan said, “we’re gonna go get your bones put back together.”

Alec mouthed canoodling to me with that irrepressible Alec Barczewski smile on his face, and I totally lost it.

“You good now, kid?” Grandpa Mick asked me after they wheeled Alec down to pre-op, tugging on one of the many hairs that’d fallen in my face over the course of the stressful hospital visit.

Was I good? “Good” didn’t begin to describe it.

Because on top of everything else, just before they whisked him out of the room, I was able to quickly blurt to Alec what I’d learned from my dad about the postcards.