Fadeaway by E. Vickers (ebook smartphone TXT) 📗

shook a pill from the bottle and handed it to him, along with his water bottle. “Very funny. And the doctor said you’ll heal faster if you stay on top of the pain.”

“Okay, fine,” he said, tossing the pill back with a swallow of water. “But I can’t guarantee what my digestive system’s going to do if I keep taking these things.”

We spent the next few hours playing cards, with college basketball reruns on ESPN Classic giving us just enough noise in the background. As the medication kicked in, Jake turned back into the kid I’d first met at the courthouse—joking, laughing, laid-back. Maybe this was what he was like when he got a little break from competitive sports.

I thought of the three words he’d spoken earlier—the three words—and wondered if the pills gave him confidence too. He seemed more sure of himself than I’d ever seen him off the court.

We’d just hit halftime on a John Wooden championship game when Jake’s phone rang.

“Kolt,” he said, setting the phone to speaker so he could use both hands to shift himself on the couch. “How’s it going?”

“J-Money,” Kolt said. “We’ve got to get you out of that house.”

“Nah,” Jake said. “I’m good.”

“You haven’t left that couch in way too long. I will drive you to Disneyland tomorrow, dude. Just say the word.”

Jake played a card—a good one—and waggled his eyebrows at me. “Neither one of us can afford Disneyland. And you just want to take me there because my crutches get you to the front of the line.”

“That cuts me real deep, Jake. But I’ll forgive you if you get out of your freaking house. How about I take you to the lake?”

“Daphne’s over. We’re playing cards.”

“Please tell me you’re at least playing strip poker.”

I leaned over the phone. “Hey, Kolt. You’re on speaker.”

“Ah, good. Daph, as much as Jake needs a win right now, I think you’d better waste him at this one. Get my boy down to his skivvies and then beat him at one more hand and rip that brace right off him. Then we can actually go somewhere.”

I smiled at Jake and shook my head. “We’re not playing strip poker, Kolt. And the brace stays on four more weeks if you want him to heal right and be healthy for basketball season.”

“Okay, okay. Well, lucky for you, Jake, I know this other game you two can play, where you’re this injured war hero and Daphne is the sexy nurse and—”

“I’m hanging up now, Kolt,” Jake said. “We’ll call you if we need any more ideas.” He blushed pretty bad, and it made the heat rise to my cheeks too.

I watched Jake as he hung up the phone, and I realized Kolt was right. Jake was trying to be happy, probably for my sake, but it was hard for him to be stuck on the couch.

“Should we go to my house?”

Jake dealt us another hand. “Your dad hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I said, but neither of us totally believed it. Not after a year and a half of Dad encouraging me to go out with other guys—sometimes in front of Jake—because nobody could possibly be good enough for his little girl.

“We can stay here, but Kolt’s right. We’ve got to do something.” I stood up. “I’ll be right back,” I told him, ducking into Luke’s room to look for something fun to do. We’d never done Legos together before, but maybe that would at least get Jake’s hands and brain working?

Then my gaze landed on something else: Luke’s Red Cross T-shirt, lying right there on his bed. Maybe it’s not a terrible idea, I admitted. I mean, considering it came from Kolt. I picked it up and put it on, trying to channel my inner Jenna. The shirt fit a little tight across the chest and left a sliver of skin showing above the waistband of my jeans, which meant it was probably exactly what Kolt had in mind.

“Good evening, Mr. Foster,” I said, strutting back into the living room. I felt the heat in my cheeks as I straightened his prescription bottles and adjusted the pillows under his knee. “I’m the on-call nurse tonight. Any new symptoms to report?”

Jake sat up straighter. He tried to think of an answer, but I’m pretty sure he was distracted by my “uniform,” which gave me a flush of confidence.

“Um, yeah. My shoulders are a little tight,” he said. As awkward as I was at this game, we’d definitely gotten his mind off his injury.

I sat behind him on the arm of the sofa. “Yes, you’re right,” I said as I began to knead his shoulders and neck. I leaned around and kissed him on the temple, and again on his earlobe. “What else?” I whispered.

“Rapid heartbeat.”

I slid my hand under the collar of his T-shirt and rested it against the smooth muscles of his chest. “Hmm. Yes. Rapid indeed. Let me check that from another angle.”

Jake moved to the back of the couch and pulled me on top of him. I ran my thumbs across his jaw, stopping just below to feel the throbbing pulse in his neck. “Tight shoulders. Rapid heartbeat. Anything else I should know about?” I traced my fingers back until they tangled in his hair, and we locked eyes for a long moment.

“Yes,” he said, and swallowed hard. “I think I mentioned the thing about the digestive system.” Then he let out a long fart that shook the couch.

A laugh burst out of me before I could stop it. Meanwhile, Jake looked like he wanted to laugh and cry and hide in a hole all at once. “I am so sorry,” he said. “I swore I was never going to do that in front of you, and I made it a year and a half. But I told you these pain meds are messing me up.”

I fell against him, laughing so hard my shoulders shook. I guess that gave him all the permission he needed to