Stone Creek Davis, Lainey (best android ereader txt) 📖

“It’s my shoulder,” I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s my fucking shoulder, Livvy.”

“Ok,” she says, soothing, brushing her hand through my hair and leaving a trail of sparks along my skin. I’m scared and I know she knows it. I felt something creak when I flattened that Maryland runner. I’m so fucking mad about it, too. My head hasn’t been right since last night. I didn’t get enough sleep and I’m all over the place with my thoughts, thinking about what Kevan said.

If I don’t know my teammates, if I can’t read people like I thought, can I read the offense? Can I even fucking do anything? Liv tries to lift my arm and I groan.

It started hurting even worse when her dickhead boss was moving it around. “Bax,” she says, gently moving my arm around. “I’m going to assess your A-C joint, ok?”

I don’t know what the hell that means, but if Olive says I need it, fine. I’m not letting that asshole guy put his hands on me again, though. I can tell you that.

By this time, my roommates are done getting checked out and are standing around staring. I growl at them. “Take a picture, guys. It’ll last longer.”

“Hey,” Liv says, squeezing my leg. God, that feels good. Her touch almost makes me forget the stinging ache in my shoulder. “Be nice, ok? I think I know what’s wrong.”

Justin steps away from whatever he was doing and frowns at me. He starts asking me stupid questions I don’t feel like answering, and then he tries manipulating my arm. I yank it away from him. “I want Olive to do it,” I snap.

My shoulder is starting to throb.

“Hey,” Olive says, resting her palm on my cheek. She never touches me this much. Fuck, she must know something’s wrong. I cannot afford to have something really wrong. “How about if Justin and I do it together, ok? I’m right here.”

He rolls his eyes and nods, and then resumes trying to lift my arm while Olive keeps her hand threaded with my left hand. She presses her other hand on my leg, and I try to focus on that. I hear Justin talking low with Olive, and she nods. She runs her fingers along my collar bone, and then points to the sore spot on my shoulder.

“It’s right here, right, Bax?” She presses on the spot where my collar bone connects to my shoulder and I hiss.

Justin sends one of the assistant trainers for ice and his attitude shifts a little, like he’s back to being pissed off. Good, that means it’s not too serious. “I think we’ve got a sprained A-C joint, Morgan,” he says. “One week no contact. Ice and stim. Some PT. It’s not separated or torn—just looks like you tweaked it when you made a tackle.”

I nod. “What about the pain?”

He cracks a maniacal grin. “Can’t handle a little pain?”

“Fuck you, man. Step in my shoes for an hour and we’ll talk.” This is such bullshit. I look around for Coach, but he’s already left the room.

Justin rolls his eyes, a-fucking-gain, and mutters that he’ll get the doc in here for a cortisone shot.

Mother fucker. Those shots fucking hurt. I usually wind up getting one in my back each season. This sport is so damn painful. Olive must see me shivering, because she squeezes my hand. I realize she hasn’t let go this whole time. “I’ll be right here with you, ok?” I nod.

Doc seems to be lining up a few shots of glory—some of my teammates lie ass up on a table, some have their knees exposed. None of them get their own personal angel with them, so I try to shut my mouth while they deal with the stick alone.

Olive runs her fingers through my hair, soothing me. I know I need her. I need someone who just loves me, who has always loved me.

Not even my own mother stuck around when our worlds exploded, but Olive was there. She’s always been there. I can’t risk losing this by answering some feral need I feel whenever I think about her.

I can dip my dick anywhere.

Olive knows what an injury-free season means to me to get my chance at the pros. So when she sees me tense up as Doc prepares the needle, she gives me a smile and I forget everything I just convinced myself about why I need to keep my hands off her.

I can’t help it. Even with a giant needle headed toward my arm, I’ve got a raging hard-on.

“Hey, Bax,” she says. “Don’t look at the needle. Just look at me.” I’m not sure which is harder.

“She’s right, son,” Doc says, flicking the syringe. “Ease up now for me. Come on.”

I try to tune him out and look into Olive’s eyes. Her face is so beautiful, even when it’s etched with concern. Neither of us ever had parents we could turn to with something like this. Something like physical pain or just reassurance. We only had each other. Could I throw caution to the wind and bang Olive Hampton? Probably. But look what I’d be risking to do that.

I’m sure we’d have a good time—I always make sure ladies have a good time. But this means so much more to me. I bite my lip as the doctor inserts the needle and squeeze my eyes shut.

“Just breathe, Bax. Breathe with me and it’ll be over soon.” Her breath is cool on my face and it smells like butterscotch. She must have been eating candy with Scotty’s mom. With the guys’ families.

Someone forgot to tell my dick about Olive being off limits. For the millionth time, I have a fence post in my pants just from thinking about her, and having her hands all over me is not helping at all.