27. CONOR

CHAPTER 27

CONOR

G roaning is the only thing I can do for a hot moment.

I don't know what hurts more, if my freaking head or the shoulder I landed on. I hear my name over and over, and it only registers that it's from Sierra when I feel her hands on my chest, on my face, on my arm.

"Conor, please tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," I slur, turning over to my back. I try opening my eyes and the white overhead light stabs them in a way that tears another pained noise out of my throat.

"Open your eyes, tell me how many fingers you see."

I squeeze them instead. "The light?—"

"Conor, please!" The desperation in her voice forces me to try.

This time her head is right above mine and the light doesn't stab my head anymore, but part of her face is blurry and the one thing that's clear to me is that there are tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Are you hurt?" I lift my hand towards her face, but she traps it in hers .

"Are you freaking kidding me? You're the one who got hurt! Do you see my fingers?"

"Two," I rasp the word out.

"Any dancing lights?"

I squint. "Kinda?" There are some popping flashes here and there, nothing worse than the throbbing on my temple.

"That's it, we're going to the hospital."

"I'm fine, I just need a second to get my bearings."

"No." Her voice is harsh and brokers no argument. "We're going. Can you move?"

I tighten my jaw to not make a single peep as I haul myself up to sitting. I stretch out my hands behind me to balance myself, and one of them falls over a familiar object. My glasses. I feel like I sway slightly as I lift them up for inspection. They're fine, just like I am.

As I put on my glasses, I say, "Sierra, it's not so bad. My bell's just a bit rung but I'll be fine in a moment and then we can get the booths."

"Booths my ass, we're going to get you checked out by a professional." She grabs both of my arms and makes a brave attempt at pushing me to my feet, except I have at least fifty pounds and about a foot on her.

Sighing, I slightly turn on my side to pull myself up. It takes a lot more effort than it should, but no one would be fully functional after almost getting conked out.

Once I'm on my feet, Sierra slides my arm around her shoulder and walks me out of the warehouse. The more steps we take, the clearer my head starts to get, which would be a great sign if it wasn't for my noggin throbbing like a toothache.

We stop by the receptionist and Sierra's the one who speaks. "I'm so sorry, I'm afraid my partner just had an accident in the warehouse and I'll take him to get checked out. May I please have the CEO's card so I can call her back?"

"I'm okay, she's just being overly cautious," I say .

But one look at Sierra's face and the receptionist decides to go for Sierra's side rather than mine. We walk out of the convention center with only a card in Sierra's pocket, instead of the props we came for. She pushes my body to the passenger's side and I expel a heavy breath.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Yep, I'm not taking your safety lightly. Duck your head," she commands as though I didn't know how to get in my own vehicle. But fine, I can appreciate her concern for me.

After I'm safely strapped in, Sierra walks around the the driver's seat and climbs on. She wipes at the moisture on her face with the back of her work gloves, and extends a hand to me. "Key."

I fish for it and offer it.

She snatches it from the air, sniffling in a way that makes her nose wrinkle adorably. I lean my head back against the headrest and watch her the entire ride. Another good sign is that I'm not getting sleepier, even though the sky's growing dark and the pain in my head stays strong. But I keep quiet. I don't think she'd believe anything I could say right now because she's so damn worried to the point of shaking.

Hopefully, this doesn't mean I'm an asshole but… my chest feels all warm about it.

We get to the emergency room and even though I walk in of my own free will, I'm already regretting the amount of money from my bonus that will go into paying for this visit. But Sierra's probably right in that I should get checked, because my head isn't exactly in mint condition.

I drop a quick kiss on Sierra's temple right before I get sat on a wheelchair and we're separated.

*

The staff take this just as seriously as Sierra did, and they run enough tests to prove it. Aside from the huge bump toward the left temple, there are no other side effects. The blow didn't open a gash so there's no need for stitches, and the verdict is that I don't even have a concussion. In fact, the flashing lights have completely cleared from my vision and my pupils are responding normally to a beaming light.

However, I'm cleared some three hours later after a healthy dose of painkillers and a new gaping hole in my pocket. I complete the paperwork and follow the signs to return to the lobby, and that's where I find Sierra and Gramps.

I lift my glasses to rub my eyes but they didn't deceive me, those are really them sitting together. Gramps has an arm around Sierra's shoulders, his hand patting her arm sporadically. She's still sniffling the way she was when I left her, as if maybe she's spent all this time crying intermittently and she's now just calming down again.

I swallow hard, my chest squeezing at the sight. She didn't leave, even though I didn't expect her to stay this long. And she called Gramps, even though this shouldn't have been a big deal.

But now it is. This is the biggest of all deals.

I put one foot in front of the other until they take me before them. Their stares, lost among the spots of the granite floors, finally lift to me.

"Conor!"

They jump to their feet and Sierra launches herself at me with such force that I retreat a few steps. I wrap my arms around her and breathe in the shampoo scent of her hair.

"Hi," I whisper in her ear. As response, her arms tighten around me.

"Kid, are you okay?"

I look up at my grandfather. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed some industrial strength ibuprofen and I'm brand new. Ish."

"I was so worried," Sierra says, sobbing against my chest .

"I'm gonna have a word with Maeve," Gramps says and I have no idea what he's on about. "How could they let you in their warehouse unsupervised? Is this how they normally operate? Bunch of fools."

"It's my fault." I cringe. "We were in a hurry and I didn't think to ask for help."

"It could've been so much worse, Conor. You can't get hurt when we just started dating after years of me being a jerk to you." She smacks my chest pretty hard.

Chuckling, I catch her fist in my hand just in case she wants to use it again. "Hey—Hey, look at me." Ugh, look at her. Her eyes are swollen and her entire face, but especially her nose, is as red as a tomato. Her lips arch downward, chin still trembling with emotion. She's the most beautiful sight my three eyes have ever seen. "I'm fine. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Dead sure."

"Stop saying you're dead anything." She sniffs.

Smiling, I press my lips against hers for a quick kiss. "I'm not dying soon if I can help it."

"Good enough, I guess." Sierra pulls away. "Let's get you home."

Sierra offers to drive us home and take an Uber to her place, but I adamantly refuse. It's already late enough that her parents must be worried. After much canoodling, I convince her to drive my truck home and call an Uber for Gramps and I. She'll pick me up for work tomorrow.

I slump against the backseat of the Uber, exhausted now that this bizarre day is over.

"I nearly keeled over on the spot when the pretty miss called me crying her little heart out." Beside me, Gramps's voice grows gradually gruffer until he has to clear his throat. "I thought something horrible had happened to you, something worse than three years ago."

I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. "Sorry, Gramps. I hate that I made you both worry."

"Worrying me is normal. I've done that everyday since you were in your mom's tummy. But that young lady…" He shakes his head, and I'm not sure if the flash in his eyes is just from the streetlights or if there really are tears in them. "She was just as bad. Like she already loves you and can't stand the thought of losing you."

My breath hitches in my throat. "I—I?—"

"She's the stark opposite of your ex, Conor. So, don't screw this one up."

Gramps just verbalized what I've been feeling all evening, as the doctor and nurses tested my head and my eye—that Sierra cares for me in a way I haven't felt outside of my only blood relative.

She didn't leave. She could've waited only until Gramps arrived and then gone home. She could've decided right there and then that dating a guy with a permanent sports injury is too much hassle, and called it a day. She could've been Nikki two point zero but she's Sierra. And Sierra will do whatever it takes to make sure I'm okay.

Something larger than me surges from deep within me. I grab tight onto the door handle and a fistful of my jeans, squeezing my jaw to contain it. It's something primal and nameless, but somehow I understand it.

I too would move a mountain for her if I had to, because I love her.

"I won't," I finally respond to Gramps, firmer than it should be possible after this day. "Because she's the one for me."