THE PAST WEEK has been the epitome of calm after the storm.
After my Christmas morning debate with Nate about my health status, he threaded his fingers through mine and brought the back of my hand to his lips. “Shut up, Anastasia. Let me take care of you, please.”
The hospital bed wasn’t as comfortable as Nathan’s huge heated one, and the poking and prodding weren’t the types I’m used to. Everyone was very nice to me, not once judging me for the senseless decision I made to venture out onto unsafe ground alone.
I was physically and mentally exhausted but in good spirits under the circumstances. He practically forced the doctor to look over me one more time while the nurse removed my fluid line. “Protective, isn’t he?” The nurse chuckled.
“Very.” I nodded in agreement. “It’s because he cares, though, so I don’t mind.”
“Ah, young love.”
Even after the most traumatizing day and a night of shitty sleep, when he looked over from the desk where he was collecting my discharge papers, his smile made my entire body hum happily.
“I sent the picture of you looking unimpressed in the wheelchair to Sabrina, and Robbie asked if I’d let you go skiing,” he drawled, drawing a laugh out of me.
The drive back to the house was quiet, George Michael on the radio and Nate tapping along to the tune on my thigh. He looked over at me as we pulled up at a stoplight. “What’re you smiling about?”
“Do you remember singing this drunk in the shower?” I said, thinking back to Nathan screeching “Last Christmas” at the top of his lungs two weeks before.
“Hey!” He squeezes my thigh. “As soon as the night is over you have to forget about drunk shenanigans. Those are the rules, Allen.” He snuck a look over at me again, grinning wide. “I love you.”
I place my hand over the one warming my thigh. “I love you too.”
We arrived back at the house late morning, both too tired to make an effort for Christmas, and that turned into the theme of the week. The relief of being back in Nate’s bed didn’t last as long as I’d hoped, and the reality of the seriousness of what happened started to hit me.
Calling my parents from Nate’s phone was the starting point. I realized my phone was at the bottom of the lake, and they’d be trying to get hold of me to wish me Merry Christmas. Mom and Dad freaked the hell out, and I had to talk them out of flying here by convincing them I was fine.
The nightmares are intense, but when I wake up in a pool of sweat, terrified, Nathan is always there to lull me back to sleep. If hockey doesn’t work out for him, he’d make a great nurse. Each day he’s taken me to the resort spa, booking me for treatment after treatment, making sure that there isn’t an inch of me that isn’t relaxed.
Even now, a week later, every fire in the house is burning because he’s worried I’m going to get sick. The benefit of that is he’s already a human radiator, so the addition of the fire means he’s had to strip down to his boxers to stay cool.
I’m enjoying the view and being obsessed with watching Nate stroll about is helping me feel more like myself.
“Stop looking at my ass,” he shouts from inside the fridge. His head is practically resting on the shelf, and he’s pretending that he’s searching for something to eat, but in reality, I think he’s trying to cool down. He didn’t think it through when he decided to turn this house into the inside of an oven, but he wouldn’t listen to me when I said I’m fine, meaning it this time.
“The lake is pretty cold, if you want to cool off,” I shout back at him.
The fridge door stamps shut and he spins to face me, looking annoyed. His annoyed face is so cute. Is he supposed to be scary with his pouty lips and furrowed brow? If this is what he does during a game, he’s not going to be putting the fear in anyone. “Not funny.”
Stomping through the archway between the kitchen and living room, he throws himself down beside me on the couch. I crawl into his lap, brushing his hair back and planting a kiss lightly on his forehead. “Hey, grumpy. It’s over, okay? I’m safe. You saved me and I’m perfectly healthy. I’m roasting alive in this heat, but I’m good.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. Do you want to open the Christmas presents? We probably should before the year is over.” Neither of us has been feeling particularly festive, so all our gifts are still in the suitcase.
“I thought you gave me my present already?”
Rolling my eyes, I climb off him. “Coming inside of me is not a freaking Christmas present, Nathan.”
“It makes me feel jolly when I do it.”
He narrowly avoids the cushion I pick up and throw in his direction, muttering something about me not making the dodgeball team. With my hands on my hips, I huff. “Will you just get the present suitcase, please? I need to do something upstairs.”
I ignore the strange look he’s giving me and run toward the stairs, sprinting up each step until I’m pushing his bedroom door open and rummaging through his wardrobe for the bag that I hid when we got here.
I do what I need to do, pull on a robe, and rush back downstairs. He unpacked all the presents and put them into piles, now patiently waiting by his pile with his legs crossed.
“You ready?” he says cheerfully, picking up a package I recognize as being Sabrina’s handiwork. Picking up one in matching wrapping paper, I begin to pull it apart and immediately recognize the brand.
I look up at Nathan, who’s reading the back of his own box. “What did she get you?”
“A Polaroid camera, what about you?”
“Lingerie.”
He swallows hard when I open the box, turning so he can clearly see the black lace set. Plucking the tiny thong out with my finger, I hold it up. “I think maybe Brin has been reading too much smut.”
He scratches his jaw and blows out a strained breath. “We’re coming back to this really soon. Next present?”
JJ’s present is next and the second Nate pulls off the paper, he curses under his breath and reaches for his phone on the floor beside him. “What is it?”
Huffing when his phone buzzes, he shakes his head and bites back a laugh. “Lingerie.”
“Sexy…”
“When I was buying your presents, JJ wanted me to buy you lingerie.”
“Sounds about right…”
“And I said no, because there was no way I was letting JJ and Henry pick your underwear. He said, What if I buy her lingerie? and I told him I’d rip off his limbs. So, the little shit found a loophole and bought it for me.” He turns the box around and shows me a beautiful red corset that I will definitely be wearing, regardless of who bought it. “What did he buy you?”
I snort as I show my present, which is a lot more appropriate. “He bought me a masala dabba. It’s a tin with lots of smaller pots of spices and, uh, he bought me self-defense classes, weirdly.”
“Yeah, JJ wants you to be able to defend yourself when we’re not here,” he says casually. “I think I heard him say he bought Sabrina some, too, so you will be able to pair with her.”
Great. I’m going to get my ass kicked by Sabrina.
We work in unison, ripping apart the rest of the presents, drowning in a pile of gifts from our loved ones until all that’s left is the ones we bought for each other.
“I didn’t buy you a lot.” I preface, handing over the bag of gifts. “Start with that one with the blue ribbon, but, uh, yeah. You’re super hard to buy for, has anyone ever told you that?”
He hands me an identical bag and leans over the pile of torn wrapping paper, pressing a kiss to my lips lightly. “You are my greatest gift, Anastasia.”
I tear into the first present and find two pairs of the prettiest pajamas I’ve ever seen. “You said you wanted something to wear around the house and I couldn’t choose…”
“I love them, Nathan. Thank you,” I say, running my fingers across the satin. “Your turn.” He pulls the paper apart until the leggings fall into his lap. He holds up the leopard and zebra print and raises an eyebrow. “I also couldn’t choose…”
We go back and forth, unwrapping and laughing until he puts his hands behind his back. “I forgot about this, so I haven’t had time to wrap it, so close your eyes and hold out both hands.”
“If it’s your dick, Nat—”
“Shut up and do it, please,” he grumbles, rustling around. I follow his instruction, holding out both hands as he places something heavy on my palms. “Okay, open your eyes.”
My eyes widen immediately as I stare down at the iPad box. He’s nervously nibbling on the corner of his thumb, his knee bobbing, staring at me expectantly. I don’t know what to say, so I stare at it.
“Are you mad?”
Shaking my head quickly, my voice breaks as I speak. “No.”
“Do you like it? It’s so you always have it for therapy and there’s this cool app I’m going to download for you. It’s a digital planner and you can do school notes an—”
“Nate, I love it. I’m just shocked at how generous you are. I don’t know what to say, thank you so much.” He bought me a freaking iPad so I’d always be able to speak to my therapist, how is he real? “Seriously, thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby. I’m so fucking relieved you like it,” he admits, blowing out a sigh of relief. “Okay, the last gift. Let’s go.”
For the last time, I watch him tear off the wrapping paper and pull off the lid to the gift box. His mouth pulls into a straight line, and he looks at me inquisitively. “It’s empty?”
I move onto my knees and slowly untie the robe I’m wearing until it falls off my shoulders and pools on the floor behind me.
“I kind of cheated, it’s sort of more of a gift for me, but I thought you’d like it.” The Titans jersey is a little big on me but only enough to cover the tops of my thighs. His eyes are practically black as they rake up and down me. “I haven’t even shown you the best bit.” Shuffling until my back is facing him, I pull my hair over my shoulder.
“Hawkins,” he says, with a softness in his voice I haven’t heard before. “You have my name on your jersey.”
I lean forward so the jersey rides up my ass, just revealing enough to prompt him into action.
“You look so fucking good, Anastasia. Jesus.” After a week of being treated like I’m made of glass, feeling his body push up against mine is a very welcome change. His mouth runs up the side of my neck as his hand slips beneath the hem. “I wanna fuck you with this on, okay?”
“Yes, Captain.” His hand palms my ass and the excitement floods me. “I have an idea. Can you lie down on the kitchen island?”
