Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Cisco had brushed off all the concerns he'd received from his parents as he sat on the hospital bed being treated, as well as their offer to take care of him while he recuperated. He wasn't going to let his injury keep him from work on Monday.

After they'd fussed over him, he'd sent them home with assurances he'd call if he needed anything. Since that time, Cisco had been kept busy flipping off buddies and teammates who'd stopped by, teasing him about getting shot on purpose so he'd get CTO—comped time off—while at the same time accusing him of acquiring his gnarly injury so he could impress women.

In truth, Cisco didn't mind the teasing, but he was ready for the night to end. He was tired. He'd done his job. He'd received a deep furrow across his left pec which stung like a bastard, and all he wanted to do was go home, crawl onto his couch, and watch the end of the ballgame.

Welker, however, who'd shown up and taken a seat in Cisco's curtained cubicle about twenty minutes ago, had different plans. Once the parade of well-wishers died down, he used his heels to scrape his chair closer to where Cisco sat hunched over on the gurney.

"Dude. We'll have it made tonight, if you'll just agree to go out. What better time than now to pick up women than when their sympathies will be running high? Most everyone will have seen you on the tube tonight, and I'll make a bet that any woman would be eager to ‘kiss it better' if you give them the chance." Welker made some disgusting moues with his lips, and if anything, it firmed up Cisco's determination to head to his quiet living room.

"Uh, uh. I'm going home, Welk. To tell you the truth, I'm beat, and I'm sore."

Welker immediately backed off. "I didn't know it was that bad. You put on a hell of a good act for all the company."

"Which has probably worn me out even more," Cisco admitted, growing impatient. All he needed was his walking papers from the attending doc, and he could leave this antiseptic-smelling place in the rearview mirror. "But you? Why don't you chill with the team tonight. I understand a bunch of them are hitting up The Red Claw for a late-night seafood feast."

A look passed over Welker's face that Cisco couldn't quite interpret, but then it was gone. "Nah. I don't need to rehash work shit. I just need a willing woman, miles of soft skin, and the scent of wildflowers to keep me happy."

Cisco thought the last sounded damned weird and oddly specific. Which made him think Welk had to be, inadvertently, referencing someone he clearly knew and desired. Cisco had an inkling who that certain someone might be, but he wasn't about to go there. Welker would shoot him down instantly and start posturing. With Cisco's waning energy, the drama wasn't worth the effort.

"You go find a willing woman, then," Cisco suggested. "But I'm not up for being your bait. Sorry Welk."

"Spoil sport," Welk huffed, but not in a genuine way. "I guess that does it for my hot time in the old town tonight because I'm sticking around to drive you home. Mason made sure your truck got back to your place, but there's no way I'm letting you take an Uber or a cab home after you've lost so much blood. The ensuing callout we'd get to find your body slumped in somebody's back seat would suck slugs."

And there was his good friend. Making excuses, but stepping up to take care of him.

Cisco gave him one last out. "Thanks for that. But I'm not all that bad. I can order a ride."

"Shut it, Cisco. I'm making sure you get home in one piece. My mother would have my hide if I didn't."

Welker's mother could be a ball-buster. Normally a sweet, biddable woman, she was a terror when crossed, but Cisco knew Welk was just using her as an excuse for his soft heart.

"I can't argue with you there," Cisco conceded. "I?—"

"Here are your instructions for care once you get home." His nurse, a no-nonsense, battle-ax, no-humor, care-giver briskly walked into his room holding a sheaf of papers out toward him. "You know the drill. Any sign of fever, puffiness, unusual redness, or wound discharge, come right back here or visit your own physician. A scrip for antibiotics has already been called in to your pharmacy of choice." She handed the pile to him. "Please make sure you follow all these instructions."

"Yes, Ma'am," Cisco agreed.

If she'd told him to stand on his head while reciting the Gettysburg Address, he would have readily complied. He wanted out of here, that badly.

"You're free to go." She turned on one soft heel to leave.

"Wait," Cisco stopped her. He was still bare-chested except for the large white bandage across his pecs. "Do you have a scrub's shirt I can have?" Putting on the bloody white material he'd previously shed was a definite no-go. He'd walk out half-naked if he had to.

Nurse Crotchety didn't even turn around as she answered. "I'll send one in."

She marched out the door.

"How about taking her out for a little light entertainment?" Cisco prodded Welker with a grin. "She looks like she could use a bit of…loosening up."

"No thanks. I'd rather hot-wax my balls," Welker replied.

"I hear you."

It took an additional ten minutes, but finally, as Cisco was about to say screw it and walk out bare-chested, an orderly arrived with a green scrub's shirt.

"Thanks man," Cisco said, taking it from him.

"No problem," the guy returned before disappearing again.

Cisco sucked in a pained breath as he raised his arms to ease the material over his head.

"You need help?" Welker asked, standing up.

"No. I've got it," Cisco hissed. He managed to get one arm in, then eventually and very gingerly, the other. He just wasn't sure how he'd get the damned thing off later. "Looks like I might be sleeping in this piece of shit tonight."

Welker grinned and shrugged. "It's scrubs, buddy. Take scissors to it when you get home."

Cisco chuckled. "And that, smart-ass, is why you get paid the big bucks."

"I wish," Welker quipped back, "but the bosses haven't yet discovered just how awesome I am."

Cisco laughed, as he always did when Welker boasted. But seriously, for all the man's bluster, Welk was caring, astute, and a very good person to call friend.

Without being asked or making a big deal out of it, Welk stood close as Cisco maneuvered himself off the bed. His hand came out to stable Cisco while he got his pins steady beneath him.

"Thanks. I'm good now," Cisco told him after half a minute, but Welker still walked close to him the entire way out of the ER, across the parking lot, and stayed by his side until Cisco was safely inside Welk's car.

Cisco didn't give him shit for his vigilance because…he was kind of woozy. Which was weird…

Fuck. When was the last time he'd eaten? A long freaking time ago. That had to be at least half the reason he was feeling so weak. How was a man supposed to replenish his red blood cells without calories?

"I need food," he barked at Welker who had just gotten into the car.

Welker didn't even blink. "Fast food or Door Dash?" he asked.

"Fast food. A couple large orders of fries and three or four burgers should do it."

"You got it."

Food had been consumed, the game played out as a win for the Sox, and Welker had said his goodbyes. Cisco felt so drained, it seemed like it had to be the middle of the night, but in reality, it was just before ten. Fatigued or not, his mind still wandered back to the woman who'd taken up far too much space in his brain since… Damn. Was it only this morning he'd met her? It seemed like it had been days ago, so much had happened in the meantime.

Would she have seen him on TV today?

Everyone who'd stopped by the hospital to comfort or razz him had said he'd made for extremely good entertainment.

Yeah. Break out the frigging popcorn.

He eyed his phone where he knew Hilly's phone number resided, and before he could talk himself out of it, he picked it up and hit the call button.

Shit, shit, shit. He had instant regrets… until it connected and Cisco heard her soft, tentative voice.

"Hello?" she inquired.

"Uh, hi. I hope I'm not calling too late," he began by apologizing, then realized she wouldn't have him on caller ID. "Oh. This is Cisco."

"Cisco," she said on a relieved sounding breath. "I saw what happened earlier tonight. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Damn . Just like that, he was right back to feeling that inexplicable warmth in his gut that he'd experienced in her presence before.

"I'm fine. A little sore. A little tired. It could have been much worse."

"I… They didn't report on your condition, so I, um, might have crossed a line and called Ellen Sothard to make sure you were okay."

Cisco grinned and relaxed into his couch. For all Hilly's posturing, it seemed that she, like him, felt the odd connection between them. At least enough to check up on him. But…Ellen Sothard?

"You know Ellen?" he asked curiously. Of course, he and everyone on the team were well acquainted with her. The woman was Mason's mother, but she'd also become a matriarch to all the squads; feeding them during long standoffs and even holding a handful of teammates' weddings at her house. The woman was awesome.

"I do. She's the new cook at camp this year," Hilly told him.

Cisco did a silent fist pump. This was stellar news. At least two days a week he was sure to be fed like a king.

"That's awesome," he replied. "You're going to love her." He had a thought. "Wait. How do you know her? Or did she just apply for the job out of the blue?"

There was a long silence, and Cisco wondered if the connection had been dropped before Hilly finally answered.

"I've actually known Ellen all my life."

Wait. What? How was that possible. Cisco pretty much knew everyone in town, and Hilly looked to be about his age. How had he missed someone so…compelling? Why hadn't she ever been on his radar?

"You grew up around here?" he asked, with a crack in his voice.

"Yup," she answered, but didn't continue.

"Then how come I don't know you?" Cisco's curiosity was now peaked, and he wasn't going to let it go. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Thirty-two," she mumbled.

"And I'm thirty-three," he replied. "Which means we should have been in school together."

"Not necessarily," she clipped. "I went to private school."

Her crisp, no-nonsense voice reared its ugly head again, and Cisco didn't like it. It was clear she didn't like talking about herself, so at least for now, Cisco backpedaled.

"So, you called her to check up on me, huh?" he teased, hoping to resurrect her warm tones.

He heard a sigh.

"Of course. I needed to know if you were injured so badly that you wouldn't be able to come out on Tuesday."

Was it the truth, or an excuse? Cisco couldn't be sure. What he was certain of, was that nothing would stop him from making an appearance at the camp in three days. But since Hilly was back to being tentative with him, instead of voicing that, he took on a casual tone again. "I won't say I'll be at one-hundred percent by then, but I'm a person who fulfils my obligations. I'll be there, even if I don't feel quite up to putting on my RedMan suit."

"RedMan suit?" Hilly repeated with a question in her voice.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "If you've ever watched any kind of self-defense training videos, you would have seen one, or a version of one. They're full body suits that protect the vital areas of the head, chest and…other soft bits, so while trainees are taking their shots at an instructor, they'll be protected."

"Oh. I have seen that before," she responded, losing some of her reticence again now that he'd changed the subject of her being a local.

Regarding that, Cisco was certainly going to be looking into Hilly's background first chance he got. It was odd how she was acting, and he needed to find if there was a specific reason for it.

"But regardless of the protection it would give you, I still wouldn't think you'd be up for being beat on, at least for a few weeks. How bad is it?" she finally asked in a soft, concerned voice that Cisco let wash over him.

"It bled a lot, as you probably saw on TV." He'd caught sight of himself on the news, and had winced at how red his white shirt had looked. "But it's just a graze, really. A nine-inch long, eighth-inch deep graze," he clarified, "But it didn't need stitches. They glued me closed and gooped me up with antibiotic gel before wrapping my chest like a mummy."

"Do you…have anybody taking care of you?"

Cisco perked up. Was Hilly offering?

"A teammate just left, and my parents have insisted on coming by tomorrow morning before church, but I'll probably tough it out alone for the rest of the day."

Cisco laid out the hint and crossed his fingers.

"Would you…? Would you like me to bring you lunch? Everything here at camp is pretty much ready to go, and the counselors are planning some getting-to-know each other exercises to which I'm not invited."

Yes !

Cisco tried to hide the magnitude of his enthusiasm.

"Lunch would be nice," he understated. "If you're sure it won't interrupt your day."

"No. I have to go into town for a few things anyway, so stopping by your place won't be a hardship. Oh snap," she emoted, clearly thinking of something. "You do live near town, don't you?"

Cisco suppressed a chuckle. "Yeah. I'm only two miles east." He gave her his address.

"Great. Is there anything special you like to eat?" she continued.

Welker would have immediately said, "you", but Cisco had manners. And he didn't want to scare Hilly away. But if lunch were on the table, maybe there was a chance he'd be able to get to know the conflicted woman better. And if that happened, it might not be too long before his lips could get a taste of hers.

His cock hardened.

"Surprise me," he coughed, adjusting in the sweats he'd donned the minute he got home. "I'm really not fussy. I eat anything." He eyed the empty fast-food bags littering his coffee table, and winced. He wished Welker had disposed of them before he'd left. Cisco didn't feel like getting up, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to stomach looking at the mess much longer. "As a matter of fact, Welker got me burgers and fries for a late dinner tonight, so if you want to do easy, there's always that."

She snorted, and it was damned cute. "I think I can do a little better than fast food," she imparted. "I'll make sure whatever I bring is good."

Little did she know, just her presence would assure that was the case.

Hilly continued talking. "Do you need anything at Shiffman's Drugs or at the market while I'm at it?"

Damn . He'd forgotten all about his prescription, and that was his pharmacy she'd mentioned.

"Actually, yes. The ER doc called in an antibiotic for me that should be ready for pick-up. If you could grab that, it would be greatly appreciated. There should be a small co-pay…"

"Not a problem. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks," he said.

"Anything else?"

Cisco's refrigerator was pretty well stocked; not that he knew whether he'd feel up to cooking any time soon. "Nope. I think I've got everything else I need."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow then, around twelve-thirty. Will that work?"

"Sure thing. I look forward to it."

Cisco wished it were sooner, but he wouldn't complain.

Hilly, the subject of his fascination all day, was coming to see him.

He got up to dispose of the trash.