Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
I crawled down the bed and got a t-shirt and shorts out of Kage’s dresser and put them on. They hung loosely from my smaller frame, but I didn’t care. I wanted to wear his clothes, because it made me feel like I belonged to him.
When I returned to the doctor’s side, she was injecting something into Kage’s upper arm.
“What’s that?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“Librium.” She capped the syringe and pressed a wadded up gauze square to the injection site, then secured it with a bandage. “It’s to calm him down and help with the anxiety. He’ll be out of it for a while. Why don’t you go on back to your room and let me take care of him?”
“You sure? I don’t mind staying.”
She smiled, but it wasn’t an altogether friendly look. More like a mask for barely-reined-in irritation. “I’m sure you wouldn’t. But I’ve been treating Michael for a long time. We have a system we’ve developed over the years for dealing with these things.”
“He can stay,” Kage said, and his voice was so bland it scared me. For once, he truly did sound like a machine.
“I understand you want to keep your friend close by.” Dr. Tanner rested her hand on his abdomen and spoke softly, her words barely reaching my ears. “But you know it’s not for the best. Do you really want him to see you this way?”
I opened my mouth to protest. She was making it sound horrible, and her hand on his belly was really bothering me. I wanted to climb into bed with him, wrap myself around him, and tell that lady to back off. Who the hell did she think she was?
But I knew the answer to that. She was his doctor. His long-time doctor. I had known him for less than two months and had been intimate with him for three days. So the real question was probably who the hell did I think I was?
I took a deep breath and made up my mind. “She’s right, Kage. I’m going to go for a run and work for a bit. See if I can get you some more appearances. I’ll drop by later when you’re feeling better.”
He didn’t answer, and the doctor acted like I hadn’t spoken. It was as if I’d already gone. So I let myself out of his apartment, sparing a glance backward and cringing at the sight of that woman sitting on his bed.
OVER the next few days, I saw little of Kage. When I’d stopped back by his apartment to see how he was doing the night of the anxiety attack, no one had answered the door. I called and left a text message, but both had gone unanswered.
He was conspicuously absent from his training sessions, but Marco graciously, and surprisingly, offered to work me out. So I worked out, pouring everything I had into wearing myself out so badly that I didn’t have the energy to think about Kage and wonder where he was.
Marco said he didn’t know anything, but I suspected he wasn’t being completely truthful with me.
In his absence, I changed his ringtone to a loop of Mama Said Knock You Out. It was cheesy, but I needed something to recognize him by when he called. On Wednesday afternoon, I heard it for the first time and nearly broke my neck trying to get to the phone.
“Hello?” I tried to sound nonchalant.
“You working hard for me?” That voice. I hadn’t even realized how much I had needed to hear it.
“Yes.”
“Good. I like to get my money’s worth.”
My mouth went dry.
“Trust me. You’re getting a bargain.”
He laughed, and even through the phone it gave me chills. “I know I am.” He paused for a few seconds, and dead air stretched conspicuously between us. “You want to see me fight?”
“Yes!” No hesitation on my part. This is what I’d been waiting for.
“It will be this Friday night. I won’t see you before then, so… Well, I’ll see you then.” He clicked off, leaving me to wonder what he’d been about to say. And where I needed to go to see him fight. There were too many questions, and too much excitement.
I was going to see Kage fight. The thought of it had butterflies already dancing in my stomach. No way I could concentrate for the next two days.
His ringtone blared from my phone again, and I answered it.
“I forgot to ask,” he said. “How do you want me to finish this guy?”
I chuckled, amused by his bravado. “Something fancy. How about a flying knee?”
“When?”
“What do you mean, when?”
“I mean when in the fight? Should I take him out immediately or toy with him a bit?”
I laughed. “Jesus, your ego knows no bounds. Okay, hotshot. I think you should wait until the second round. It’s the first time I’ve seen you fight, so you need to put on a show for me.”