Page 5 of Jason

Rory

“When will you finally tell us who your new patient is?” Max asked me around a mouthful of burger.

I had every intention of having a quiet and relaxed night home, right after a good hour of soaking in my tub, because God knew I needed it after the day I had. But my oldest brother had other plans. Seeing him the moment I turned the corner as he leaned on the wall next to my bedroom door, holding a bag of takeout containing only one burger and French fries…selfish bastard…I knew my day from hell wasn't over.

First, I overslept and ran late for Jason’s appointment. I stayed up way too late, studying his medical records and scans. Once his cast was removed, we went on to our first therapy session. Overall, I was actually impressed with the guy. He was in perfect shape, all his random drug tests came back negative, and there was no record in any gossip magazine articles that Google could find of him stumbling out of some nightclub drunk. I checked. I had my suspicions about him being one of those guys who partied all night only to come to practice hung over. It wasn't unheard of, especially in football. But the guy was squeaky clean.

The moment I stumbled into the exam room, still on my first cup of coffee, the questions started.

“Do you have a therapy plan?”

“How long do you think before I can start with practice?”

“What are we going to do today?”

“Don't you think, since I have dedicated my life to the sport, I should be able to go through the phases you said yesterday much faster than others?”

I just stood in the corner of the bright room, trying to hide from the sunlight pouring in through the windows, rubbing my temples and praying to God that I could stop my normal reaction when someone dared to speak to me before I finished with my first cup and not cry. The strong scent of alcohol and other hospital odors didn't help either. I had no other choice in the end but to give the man, who starred in my dreams last night doing all the naughty things to me known to man, the death glare and growl, “Shut up!”

His eyes closed dangerously to slits and he opened his mouth, but I got there before him, cutting him off in time. “No! What you need to understand is you're the one who needs me. You can't do this without me, and I hate to break it to you, but I'm your best shot at a full recovery.” Okay, maybe I did let myself get a little smug on that last part. It was my full right after all, since I worked my butt off to be where I was. “You're going to do exactly what I tell you to do, to the very last letter. You're not going to bitch at me, whine, beg, or any other thing along those lines, especially before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.” Which reminded me to take a sip, just to get a little more patience for the man. “Now, be nice, shut up, and leave me alone. Don't open your pretty mouth and try to speak. I need total silence if I want to finish my coffee, so we can prevent me from wringing your neck.” The last I muttered to myself, but when I chanced a peek at his face, I was pretty sure he heard me. If the mix of stunned and smug look that was gracing his beautiful face was any indication.

After Jason sent one last grim look to the brace that the blushing and giggling nurse was holding, I picked up my bag and waited for him to hobble to me so we could get going. That was after she basically crawled all over him under the guise of checking if he was all right, through which Jason just sent her polite little smiles and darted his eyes all over the place. I pushed away the sudden urge to bitch-slap her and instructed Jason to follow me to the therapy area. I hadn't even taken one step out of the exam room when his words stopped me. “No, we have to go to my place.”

“No, we don't,” I said slowly, trying to remain calm when everything in me was screaming just to say fuck it and quit. We weren't working together even a whole day, and I was close to walking away. “We have everything we need right here at the hospital.”

At my words, for some reason, a slight blush crept up his neck to his face. He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his flexing muscles a siren song for my eyes to track them.

“I'm sorry, but I can't come here every day. I don't know how, but the press and fans got word that I'm here, and at least twenty of them are waiting at the entrance for me to come out. There's no telling how many of them will be camping here as I come in each day, and I'm sure you want the hospital to function properly and take care of its patients.”

I had to admit he was right. I almost got trampled when entering the place.

“Fine,” I sighed, turned then walked out of the room leaving Jason with a stunned look on his face.

After a cortisone shot, arranging for me to be the one who will administer them in the future, a short detour to the children’s ward, where he gave autographs and posed for pictures, and sneaking off to go to his place, another form of torture began. I didn't want to admit it, but I had a newfound respect for the man. Seeing the smiles on the kids’ faces, not to mention how much fun Jason appeared to have, the anger for constantly questioning me I held toward him started to rapidly melt away, and he started to simply annoy me.

I could still feel my palms tingling from the touch of his skin. From the moment I started stretching his joint until the very last second of the leg massage, I had to clench my teeth and my thighs, because the prickly sensation shot from my palms right to my breasts, making them swell until it settled in my clit, which pulsed with my every heartbeat. Thankfully, Jason questioning my sanity and my will to kill him helped push the urge to bring his head down so I could kiss him and call him all the filthy, sexy names that exist away. He made me want him more and more with every second that passed.

“You're aware that we're not going to give up?” Max asked, bringing me to the present.

I looked at him sideways, assessing the truth in his statement. I loved him as I did all my brothers. I just wished they didn't frequently drive me to the point of committing homicide or spend so much money on bail. Considering how much time they spent in a holding cell, it was a miracle they could keep their jobs. Then again, all the guys from the station thought it was hilarious whenever I called them to get those brutes out of my way. A few years ago, they even gave me an envelope full of cash. It turned out to be bail I paid over the years. So, at least that mystery was solved. They didn’t get officially arrested and processed; they were just holding them there, so I could get a few hours of peace.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed and decided, since he ambushed me in my own apartment, scaring the daylight out of me when he growled, demanding I tell him who it was, I had every right to eat his french fries.

“Hey!” He tried to get them back but pulled his hand back quickly when I retaliated. “Not fair, you know you're not allowed to use your knowledge or put pressure on our nerves to cause us pain. I'm going to tell Mom.”

I rolled my eyes at him to let him know how much that pained me and continued speaking as if he hadn’t said a word. “And you know I can't tell you who my patient is, as I never can, but you're still going to drive me crazy trying to find out who it is.”

“It would be best for everyone if you just told us,” he said in a condescending tone and shrugged his massive shoulders. “You know we won't give up.”

“And you also know there's no way in hell you're going to find out,” I replied, knowing it won't help.

“There's three of us and only one of you,” he gave me a cocky wink before he took his next bite.

Finishing the last of his French fries, I swallowed, bunching up a napkin. “Just… please don't make me spend any more money on bail.”

“It was your fault the last time!” he shouted in outrage. “What sane person calls the cops on their brothers?”

“The same one who thinks someone's breaking in at three in the morning, you jerk.”