Those wounds were all miraculously stabilized, but were not the worst of the news. The assailant with the crowbar hit him in the back so hard that Baden suffered a spinal cord concussion. He’s currently paralyzed from the waist down.
It was horrible news and the weight of grief in the waiting room—packed with players, coaches, executive staff, and loved ones—was so palpable I felt like I was suffocating at times. Dominik arrived within two hours by private jet, conferenced with the team doctors and Baden’s parents, then, with the power of his pull and money, he’d flown in one of the best surgeons in the world who would attempt to stabilize the spinal injury.
It’s been hours since I last heard from Aaron, though. I’d stayed at the hospital until just past midnight last night when he’d insisted on taking me home since I had to get up early to open the store. Of course, I refused to let him take me home and had insisted on an Uber. There’d been a back-and-forth argument, then a compromise when Nora offered me a ride as she had to leave due to early appointments the next morning, too.
Baden’s surgery lasted throughout the night. He finally came out of it around nine this morning. Aaron kept me apprised via texts throughout the day, but, by noon, everyone was urged to leave and get some rest. Dominik put Baden’s parents, who’d flown in from Montreal, up in a hotel and Aaron had told me he was going home for a shower and a nap.
My last communication from him was around three this afternoon and since then… nothing. I have to assume he’s still resting, and it’s hard to resist the urge to call and wake him up. What I hate the most about this, though, is I am feeling this pressing need to be by his side, if for nothing more than to just be a presence should he need me. Throughout my time at the hospital, I could see how horrific this was for Aaron. Baden isn’t just a teammate. He’s a brother to them all, so his injury directly struck each of them. I’d never seen Aaron so weighed down with emotion.
Never seen him so quiet and withdrawn, either. I’m not used to it. It’s freaking me out, although I simply cannot take it personally. This is a moment in our relationship when we will learn something about each other… how we deal with tragedy.
The knock on my front door startles me so badly I let out a tiny yip of fright. But I immediately know it’s Aaron.
Or rather… it has to be him.
I practically hurdle over my coffee table as I rush to the door, flipping the lock and swinging it open without even bothering with the peephole.
And damn… he looks awful.
Without thought or hesitation, and without needing to ask the million questions I have burning within, I simply pull him into my house and wrap my arms around him in a hard hug.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to feel him until the relief courses through me when he returns my embrace, dipping to rest his cheek on the top of my head for a few moments while we just absorb each other.
Finally, I ask, “Have you gotten any rest?”
“Yeah,” he replies, pulling slightly back from me. “About an hour this afternoon. We just had a team meeting, so I thought I’d come by. Hope that’s okay?”
“It’s always okay,” I rush to reassure him. “In fact… would it be weird if I offered you a key?”
His smile is wan, but I can see he likes my offer. “I’ll give you a key to my place, too.”
“Wow… we are getting serious,” I tease.
His smile falters, but only because it’s obvious he has bad news. Taking his hand, I lead him around the loveseat to the couch, urging him down. I settle in close beside him, brushing my fingers over his brow as he spreads his legs under the coffee table and leans his head back against the cushion.
“Baden may never walk again,” he murmurs, his voice choked with grief.
I move up to my knees until I’m hovering over Aaron. His eyes are closed, his face pinched with pain. I press my lips to his temple. “But he’s alive, Aaron. And if there’s a chance he might never walk again, then there’s a chance he could, right?”
His eyes flutter open and he just stares, his expression devoid of any hope. This perpetually happy, funny, spontaneous man who never gives up appears utterly defeated. My chest constricts so hard I lose my breath.
His pain becomes my pain.
“We can’t give up hope,” I say softly, leaning in. This time, I brush my lips against his.
Aaron lets out a stuttering sigh as his eyes slowly close, his hand moving to rest at my waist. “Kiss me again, Clarke.”
I scoot in closer, one hand going to his shoulder, the other resting on his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat pulses against my palm, and I dip my mouth to his again.
Aaron’s lips part, allowing my tongue to slip easily inside. Something rumbles in his chest, and his fingers contract on my waist. My kiss is medicine to him right now and if this is the only way I can help him—bring some measure of peace to his mind—then I’m all in.
Without hesitation, I swing a leg up and over until I straddle Aaron’s lap. His eyes fly open, and the blankness has disappeared. Instead, a flicker of fire lights them. Despite the heaviness of the moment, my body responds to it.
My hands curl into the material of his shirt, and I tip my head to the side. Leaning in, I glide my lips along the strong, corded muscles of his neck. Without hesitation, I drop one hand to the hem of his shirt and snake my hand under it. Running my palm along the ridges of his hard abdomen, I ghost it upward over his chest. Twisting my wrist, I rub a knuckle over one of his nipples. Aaron growls in response. He shifts his body, grips my hips, and presses me down on his pelvis.
The evidence that just the tiniest of touches from me has a big effect—a huge and hard one by the feel of it—goads me into being bolder.
Gives me the courage and power I need to give Aaron pleasure not only when he needs it, but also when I need to give it to him the most.
Scooting backward on his lap, I drop my fingers to the button of his jeans. I do this while looking straight at Aaron, making sure he doesn’t need something different from me.
The dark lust swimming in his eyes tells me I’m on the right track.
“I’ve been thinking of doing this to you for the longest time,” I murmur, feeling a bit of heat flush through my cheeks at the admission. “But I’ve been a little too shy, and, let’s face it… you’re always in command, Aaron.”
His lips curve upward into a soft smile. “You can take command of me any time you want, babe.”
“Even if I want to do something like this?” I ask, not intending for my voice to sound all breathy and kitten-like, but it does anyway. The way it makes Aaron’s eyes darken seems to indicate he likes it.
My fingers pop his button, and I slowly lower the zipper over the thick bulge. Aaron sucks in a long breath through his nose as I graze my knuckles down the ridge, separated from my skin only by the cotton of his briefs.
I can see a problem right away. Between Aaron’s position on the couch, with me on his lap and the fact his enormous erection has made things a bit tight between his briefs and jeans, it’s not going to be easy to get at him.
I tip my head up, seeing Aaron as he watches me intently.
Waiting.
In need.
He needs me.
I slide off his lap until my knees hit the carpeted floor, Aaron’s strong thighs on either side of me. Gently pushing my fingertips into the waistband of his briefs, I say, “Lift your hips for me.”