9

“Then don’t talk, honey. We’ll get some ice for your face.” Madeline frowned at Tim, which got him moving. He grabbed the ice bucket from the table and hurried down the hall to fill it. By the time he returned, Madeline had a damp facecloth that she was using to clean away the blood. And White’s head was on the pillow she’d fixed for him.

Tim couldn’t quite explain why seeing White like this bugged him so much—this wasn’t the first time White had left a game looking like he’d just crawled out of a car wreck. Tim had a feeling he had Madeline to thank for it. Not that he hadn’t looked out for White, for all his players, before because he had. But she’d made being a little more protective of this kid all right. Who else did White really have?

The thought didn’t make Tim sad though. His boy wasn’t alone. As Tim dumped some ice in a folded towel for White’s face, Madeline was busy taking off White’s shoes. She laughed when White stopped her from undoing his jeans with a grunt.

“Would you prefer your coach help you out, buddy? I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

White made a face, which looked painful. He rolled to his side. “Can take my own clothes off.”

Every word came out muffled, like White’s mouth was full of cotton balls. Tim handed Madeline the ice and held out his hand to help the boy to his feet. “You didn’t take any of the pills Doc gave you, did you, kid?”

“Don’t need ‘em.” White shoved down his jeans and kicked them off. His face went pale, which had the dark bruises standing out even more. “Hate taking meds.”

As White lay back down, Madeline pressed the ice-filled towel to his face and resumed stroking his hair. “I don’t blame you, but they’ll help with the swelling.”

“Fine. But I take ’em, you gotta go.” White met Tim’s eyes as Tim drew the blanket up over his bare legs. Regret filled the kid’s undamaged eye. “Sorry I screwed things up for you.”

“You didn’t. Just lie there and let me look good to her.” Tim lowered his voice as he bent down, even though he knew very well Madeline could hear him from the other side of the bed. He pulled the blanket up to White’s chin. “All better, buddy?”

Laughing and groaning, White pushed Tim away. “Fuck off. Let me sleep.”

Yeah, not happening. And from the regret-filled smile Madeline shot his way, she had no intention of leaving either. She went to the mini fridge and took out a bottle of water. She handed it to Tim. “Where are your pills, Ian?”

“In my jeans.” White stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy sigh. “Pass me my phone too, please?”

Madeline passed White his phone, then tapped two pills into her palm. After White finished texting someone, Madeline pressed them into his hand and watched him take them. Tim helped White lean up, snorting when the kid grunted and snatched the water.

“I ain’t invalued,” White muttered.

And the boy had gone to college? Tim took the water bottle and set it on the nightstand. “You mean you’re not an invalid.”

“That too.”

“Get some rest, White. We’ll stay until Brends comes back.”

A soft knock at the door brought a smug smile—followed by a wince—to White’s lips. He cleared his throat. “That you, Perron?”

The door opened and the muscular forward came into the room, his light blond hair rumpled as though he’d just climbed out of bed. He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes hard as he stared down at White. “I’m starting to think you need a babysitter, kid. Why’d you tell me and Callahan you were fine? You look like shit.”

“I am fine. You gotta stay with me or Tim can’t take his lady out, and then I’ll feel like sh—” White glanced over at Madeline. “Max Perron is the nicest guy on the team. He’ll take good care of me.”

“You’re damn right, I will. You’re lucky Callahan’s not here, Bruiser. Are you trying to end your career already?” Perron picked up the bottle of pills that Madeline had set beside the water on the nightstand. “Did you take your meds?”

“Ya, Coach and Madeline made sure I did. And been icing my face.” White prodded his jaw lightly with a finger. “Working already. My mouth hurts a bit, that’s all. No reason to freak out.”

Perron apparently didn’t agree, but his concern had Tim satisfied that White was in good hands. He turned to Madeline, not sure if she’d agree, but hoping maybe the night could be salvaged. The way she was watching Perron wasn’t promising. She’d gone all momma bear on White, and another player wouldn’t treat her baby as gently as she would.

“Max Perron is a good man, Madeline.” Tim slid his hand around the back of her neck, speaking softly as she relaxed against his side. He stroked the side of her neck, enjoying the way she let him touch her as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s good for the boys to look out for each other, and you won’t find anyone better.”