Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Are you sure?” asked the nurse, his eyebrows winging up to his hairline. “That was a pretty hefty collision.”
“I’m sure.” Madden remembered all too well the feeling of nausea that often went hand in hand with the more intense pain relievers. When the nurse simply stood there looking at him, Madden replayed the man’s comment. “You saw the collision? Were you watching the game?”
“No, but the replay is everywhere on social media right now. You’re the pride of New York.” He chuckled. “They’re calling you Bad Madden. It’s not the best nickname in history, but it’s one that will probably stick, so you better get used to it.”
Bad Madden?
Jesus.
“When am I getting the hell out of here?”
The nurse seemed thrown off by the question. “You’ve only been here for forty-five minutes.”
In Madden’s opinion, that was forty-five minutes too long. Dammit, why had this happened today of all days? Of course he got injured during the one game Eve attended. Now, instead of seeing her after the game, he was stuck in a narrow bed with scratchy sheets, listening to team trainers confer with one another about the fastest rehab plan to get him back behind the plate.
Had Eve already gotten on the road back to Cumberland?
“Is there any family you’d like us to call?”
Yes. Please call my wife.
“No.” He cleared his throat of the need to request the one person he wanted to see. There was no need to inconvenience her over a minor scrape. “No, it’s not worth the bother. Just a bruise.”
“You’re going to have a purple map of the world on half of your upper torso, Bad Madden. It’s a little more than a bruise.”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“It’s going to stick,” sang the nurse as he departed.
Madden sighed, dropping his head back on the pillow and resigning himself to being stuck. Another twenty minutes passed before the nurse returned.
“You have another visitor.”
Most likely a member of the coaching staff. Or yet another press liaison.
“Great,” Madden muttered, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Blond girl. Kind of . . . Grace Kelly hot?”
His lids flew open at that, his pulse stumbling over itself. “What?”
Not Eve. It couldn’t be Eve. She’d come all the way to the hospital to see him?
“They’re making her wait in the hallway until someone leaves the room.” The nurse jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “With all the Yankees personnel rubbing elbows in here, we’re at capacity.”
Madden used his good arm to sit up. “Get them out. Get her in.”
“Uh—”
The surprise had rendered his tongue useless. “That’s my . . . she’s . . .”
“I hope you’re going to say sister, because I’m pretty sure two doctors are already planning a proposal.”
“That’s my wife,” Madden growled, rushing to add, “But . . . don’t announce that she’s my wife, all right? Just bring her in.”
“You got it, Bad Madden.” The nurse turned to the room and clapped his hands. “Out into the hallway. All of you. The reigning king of New York needs his privacy.”
“I think king of New York is a bit of an exaggeration,” Madden muttered, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of Eve through the rectangular window in the hospital door. God help any doctor he caught hitting on his wife. They’d be trading places with him in this bed.
“It’s not an exaggeration, actually.” Someone stepped forward with a laptop. “I’m Josh. I’m the social media manager. Not only has the clip of the collision, followed by you holding up the ball, gone viral, but there’s already a remix of the announcer’s voice saying Bad-Bad . . . record scratch . . . Bad-Bad Madden.” His fingers flew over the keys. “Here, let me play it for you.”
“Please don’t.”
“He has a visitor,” the nurse informed everyone with an embellished wink. “A very special one.”
Madden ground his molars.
The fact that Eve had to wait even a minute, instead of being ushered right in, was going to make his head explode. She’d come. She’d already traveled from Cumberland. Now she’d probably gone through traffic hell to make it from the Bronx to the hospital.
And still, no one had moved to leave the room.
“Either she comes in here or I’m going out there,” Madden said, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed, more than prepared to walk.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” everyone said at once. “Lie down.”
“Don’t aggravate the shoulder. We need you in Pittsburgh next week.”
“Let him have his special visitor,” snapped the nurse, followed by more clapping. And finally, finally, the suits started to file out of the room, leaving it blessedly empty.
A steady beep had become background noise in the hospital room over the course of the last hour, but when Eve appeared in the doorway, that beep got faster and seemingly louder? “What in the hell is that?” he asked, sounding a little winded, because dear god, too many days had passed since he’d seen her last and she looked incredible in that dress. A dark blue one he hadn’t seen before. It molded to her body from her tits down to her hips, then it kind of flowed out just past her knees. She’d twisted her hair up, but she must have done it on the fly, because little pieces had fallen out, free to brush her neck, exactly like his fingertips and mouth needed to do.