Free Fair Game: A Football Romance by Emerson Rose Page A

black eye,” Dr. Moto says.
    “And you woke everybody up,” I say.
    “Including me,” Dr. Moto says.
    “Damn you two. Can’t a guy have a bad dream without people ganging up on him? I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Tell the nurse I’m sorry. I’ll pay her medical bills if she has any and shit, throw in a new car or something. That ought to make her happy.”
    Adam waves his hand dismissively, like this is all a casual misunderstanding. Maybe it is to him, but it’s not to me.
    “Do you solve all your problems by giving people extravagant gifts?” The double-sided question wasn’t originally intentional, but once it was out of my mouth, I was really interested in hearing his answer. If he thinks a bottle of wine and some clothes are going to make up for what he put me through, he’s going to have to find another nurse.
    “Shit, Amethyst, I’m trying to be nice here. Give me a break.”
    “I think a face-to-face apology and an explanation might work better than an expensive car. She might want to know what was happening to you and why you did what you did.”
    Dr. Moto is lost, and I’m so angry my blood is boiling in my veins. The dam is about to break if I don’t get out of here. Adam’s nightmare is going to look like a fairytale in comparison to the wrath I’m about to release.
    Before he can answer for himself, because if he does, I may kill him, I grab my purse and sweater to leave. I come close to trampling a nurse on her way in when I exit in a blur of tears and fury.
    I’m hardly out of the hospital when my phone rings in my purse. It’s freezing outside, but the below zero temperatures aren’t even cold enough to cool my rage. Tears freeze on my cheeks as I storm toward the parking garage, digging in my purse for the key fob and my phone. I answer the phone without looking at the screen.
    “What?” I yell to whoever has dared to call me in the middle of my breakdown.
    “Amethyst, don’t drive when you’re angry. Promise me you will sit in the car and cool down before you go anywhere. I mean it. Promise me right now or I’ll drag my fucking leg down the hall and into the parking garage and hunt you down.”
    Adam’s commanding voice is different somehow. I stop short in the middle of the empty street and watch my breath puff out like a locomotive.
    His cocky womanizer attitude is gone, and he sounds like he did the night he tried to convince me not to drink and drive after a party in college. He sounds like he really cares about what happens to me.
    “Ame?” his voice booms in my ear, and I jump.
    “Okay, I promise,” I say, stunned at the genuine care in his voice.
    “Good girl, thank you. Now go warm up in the car. You’ve got to be frozen solid. And, Ame?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Put on your sweater, honey.”
    I look down at my sweater still draped over my arm. How does he know I haven’t put my sweater on? The call disconnects, and suddenly the cold hits me like a wall. I can’t stop shivering. I force my legs to move again and slip my arms into my sweater, but it’s too late. It’s already frozen. It wouldn’t have kept me warm in these temperatures, anyway. My only hope of warming up is in the Ghost.
    My stiff fingers locate the fob in a side pocket of my purse as I reach the car. Sliding into the front seat doesn’t feel as good as it did in Adam’s heated garage. The leather crinkles in protest, like it’s never been exposed to the elements.
    I start the engine and sit under the twinkling lights, trying to process what happened as the warmth of the heated seat spreads out under my ass. Heated seats make me feel like I’ve wet my pants. I usually don’t care for them, but tonight, I’ll take any source of heat I can get.
    I promised him I wouldn’t drive until I’m calm. I don’t owe him shit, but I’m not in the mood to die wrapping myself around an electrical pole, so I sit. And I sit some more until I realize my face is wet with thawed tears and I’m