Free On the Surface (In the Zone) by Kate Willoughby

felt like a deflated balloon. He imagined that’s exactly what his stomach looked like, all wadded up inside his gut, emptier than empty. Carefully, he stood. Still okay. He shuffled to the sink, filled a glass with water and rinsed his mouth, then risked a couple swallows. In the mirror, he looked like shit warmed over. He really needed a shave and his color reminded him of roadside snow. He went out to the bedroom. In the semidarkness, he wasn’t surprised to see Erin curled up on top of the king-sized bed at the far edge. She’d flat-out told him she wasn’t leaving until she was sure he was okay.
    She didn’t take up much room. Probably didn’t weigh much over a hundred pounds. Shit, he could bench press three of her without breaking a sweat. As he listened to her girly snoring, he wondered how he was going to make this up to her. It didn’t seem right to offer her money, even though she was a nurse and had nursed him. Maybe she’d like some choice tickets to the season opener.
    Taking care to walk quietly, he went back to the bathroom. He suddenly wanted a shower more than anything. The water hadn’t come back up, so he drank some more.
    Ten minutes later, refreshingly clean and feeling about seventy-five percent human again, he toweled off and realized he’d neglected to bring some clean clothes with him into the bathroom. Damn it. He wrapped a towel around his waist and ventured back out. The dresser drawer opened almost silently and he pulled out some sweatpants and a T-shirt.
    He glanced at the bed where she still slept. He should go back into the bathroom to dress, but he didn’t. Instead, he watched her warily and risked dropping the towel to pull on the pants. She didn’t move a muscle. He put the shirt on without any problems either, then chuckled silently that he’d worried at all. He didn’t care if she saw him naked, and as a nurse, she probably viewed nudity with even less concern than he did.
    He wondered what would have happened if she’d woken up. She probably would have rubbed the sleep from her eyes and told him to get some clothes on. She didn’t seem the type to get all red-faced about seeing a guy’s bare ass.
    He glanced at the clock on the nightstand as an enormous yawn took him by surprise. 4:26 and still not any twinges from his stomach. He carefully eased himself onto the bed. After tonight, finding a place to live was now his top priority. He’d put it off for too long, always finding some excuse. He spent weeks on the road every year in less-luxurious places than this, but being sick in a hotel sucked, and he missed having his own bed in his own place. If that made him a wimp, so be it.
    * * *
    When Erin woke up in the dark, unfamiliar room, it took her a moment to get her bearings. The large shape on the other side of the bed was a man.
    Okay , she realized with unease, I’m in Tim Hollander’s bed .
    And Tim Hollander is in it.
    I’m in bed with a professional hockey player.
    Holy cow. The unease escalated into anxiety until she reminded herself that he was just a person like anyone else and not too long ago, he was as sick as a dog. Sicker, actually.
    She didn’t wish food poisoning on her worst enemies, and Tim had gotten a doozy of a case. His vomiting had been so violent and incessant that she’d been afraid he’d get dehydrated during the night and need hospitalization but refuse to call for help. She’d gone into nursing because of a strong maternal instinct and she wasn’t about to let his scowl and weak protests stop her from taking care of him or anyone else in need.
    Still, she respected his dignity and had left him alone most of the time, checking on him as little as possible. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep, having worked that twelve-hour shift, stood up to a bully and faced the paparazzi. She sighed.
    It had been a full day.
    Tim turned his head opened his eyes. The nervousness returned full force.
    “Hi,” he whispered.
    He smelled like soap and his