Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Twenty

R ye had no idea how he got to Cutter’s house. The last thing he remembered was blacking out when his head hit the armoire. No. That wasn’t true. He had a vague recollection of Kristen hovering over him, attempting to apologize, because it was always like that. She was always sorry, especially when she’d drawn blood.

It didn’t matter. Rye was done. He recalled pushing past her on his way out of the house and getting into his truck. After that, it was a complete blur. He must’ve driven to Cutter’s house on autopilot, because he remembered nothing of the drive. Not the traffic, the stoplights, none of it.

He simply ended up there, falling into Cutter’s house. He hoped he didn’t bleed onto the rug.

The boytoy was there. The shaggy-haired hockey star he’d dealt blackjack to. The one Cutter insisted meant nothing to him, but Rye didn’t believe it. If it was nothing, why was he there?

Lance—Lane?—wanted to call 9-1-1, but Rye was having none of that. The last thing he needed was to end up in the emergency room being asked a bunch of personal questions. ‘Have you fallen lately?’ ‘Do you feel safe in your home?’

Yes. I fall frequently when my fiancée shoves me into furniture. And no, of course I don’t feel safe in my home.

Yet I still don’t leave.

My name is Rye, and I’m a pathetic idiot who cares more about his image than his safety. Or his happiness.

Fortunately, Cutter got the hint. No way was he allowing anyone to call 9-1-1. The hockey player left, with a promise from Cutter to call him later. Rye didn’t know if they shared a kiss before parting because he turned his head away.

It didn’t matter. Soon, they were alone, with Cutter cradling Rye’s head in his lap. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do I have to guess?”

“Guess,” Rye muttered. “It shouldn’t be too hard. I doubt you’ll need three.” His head throbbed, but he tried for humor, nonetheless.

“Kristen.”

“And he gets it in one!” Ouch. Maybe he got too excited there, because that hurt.

“Do you think this is funny, Rye?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Not particularly. But I’m trying to cope,” he said. “We had a fight.”

“I figured that much out,” Cutter muttered. “I would have thought you’d be tired of this by now.”

“I am,” Rye insisted, “but it’s not that easy.”

“So I keep hearing.”

Yeah. He was testy. Rye didn’t blame him. “I’m sorry I ruined your date.”

“It’s fine. It wasn’t much of a date,” Cutter said.

“Yet he was here, so you must have been looking for something.”

“Maybe. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Cutter brushed a stand of Rye’s hair away from his forehead, leaving him wondering if Cutter would kiss him, and hoping he would. “How’s your head?”

He wanted to insist it was fine, but he couldn’t. “It still hurts.”

“I’m sure.” Cutter sighed. “Look, Rye, I know you didn’t want to go to the hospital. I don’t blame you for that. You need to have your head looked at, though,” he said. “The cut is bad enough, plus you might have a concussion.”

Right. He’d been wondering that himself. “Aren’t you looking at it? You have medical training.”

“Some, but I’m not a doctor,” Cutter said. “I’m going to call Dr. Jiminez.”

The team doctor. To the extent that Rye knew Doc Rosie, he liked her. But no. No way did he want her involved in this. Or anyone affiliated with the team, for that matter. “No!” It came out harsher than Rye intended. “Cutter, please, can’t we just keep this between us? I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I hope so, and you’re probably right,” Cutter said, “but my training and experience won’t allow me to do that. This needs to be checked out, and by an actual doctor.” He picked up one of the pillows from his couch and positioned it under Rye’s head. “I’ll be right back.”

Cutter scooted off the couch and moved to another room. Rye could faintly here him talking on the phone but couldn’t make out anything he said.

He was back in less than five minutes. “Dr. Jiminez is on her way over.”

Rye closed his eyes, wishing he could block out everything about this night, starting with taking Kristen to the party. Then again, that fateful decision had been made days before. “I wish you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I know, but I had to,” Cutter said. “Don’t worry. She’s the consummate professional. Everything stays between the walls of this house.”

“Okay.” Rye knew Cutter was right. His injury had to be checked out, and this was better than going to the hospital.

“I just ask one thing. Insist on it, really.”

“What’s that?”

“You need to be honest with Rosie. You’ve got to tell her the truth about what happened tonight.”

~&~

It didn’t take Rosie long to get there, and her concern was evident when she saw Rye’s head. Cutter expected Rye to try to downplay things to the team doctor, but instead he was surprisingly forthcoming.

“My fiancée had a little too much to drink tonight, and she might’ve taken some drugs, too. She was acting erratic, and it alarmed Coach Ross’s wife,” he said, “so I took her home. I was trying to help her into the house and to bed, and we scuffled a bit. I fell and hit my head on the armoire, but it was an accident.”

Okay, he was forthcoming except for the part about insisting it was an accident. Much like he always did. Still, at least Rye hadn’t fabricated some ridiculous story about tripping on a dog toy or something. If he even had a dog.

“I’m sure it was,” Rosie said, her eyes meeting Cutter’s above Rye’s head.

Her expression told Cutter everything he needed to know. She’d figured it all out. That Rye was the friend who was in the abusive relationship, and that Cutter was interested in more than friendship with the troubled kicker.

“I appreciate you coming to look at my head, doctor,” Rye said. “I’m sure it’s going to be fine, though. Right?”

“The cut will be.” It had been cleaned and closed with Steri-Strips as a precaution. “It should heal well.”

“I figured as much. I have a hard head,” Rye quipped. “If it scars, I can always wear my hair differently.”

Rosie smiled. “Your sense of humor is intact. I like that,” she said. “It makes me worry less about a concussion. Still, it needs to be watched.” She looked at Cutter. “He’s staying with you tonight?”

Cutter didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Absolutely.” Now that he had Rye here, he didn’t intend on letting him go. “Right?” he asked Rye.

He half expected the kicker to argue. Instead, Rye nodded. “Yes. There’s no way I’m going back to that house tonight.”

The fact he was able to say that spoke volumes, and in that moment, Cutter decided he wasn’t simply in lust with Rye. It was growing into love, and whatever happened between them, he wanted more than anything for Rye to escape his toxic home life and find peace. Wherever and whomever that might be with.

“Good,” Rosie said. “You know the drill, right, Cutter? Wake him every hour or so, see how he’s doing, check for cognitive impairment, that kind of thing?”

Cutter nodded. “Yes.” He may have had to give up on his dream of attending medical school, at least for now, but he’d paid attention in all his college classes and learned a lot from Rosie.

“Good. If you notice anything suspicious, get him to the ER right away,” she said. “Or call me. That works, too.” Rosie looked at Rye. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll leave you in Cutter’s capable hands.”

“Thanks, Dr. Jiminez.”

“Please. It’s Rosie. I know you haven’t had a lot of injuries and haven’t had to see much of me, but my name is Rosie.”

Rye nodded. “Got it. Thanks, Doc Rosie,” he said. “There is one more thing, though. I need to know if Kristen is okay.”

“What?” It came out harsher than Cutter intended. “I’m sorry, but you’re not going back home to her.”

“No. I already said that.” Rye let out a sigh. “I know what you’re both thinking, but once upon a time, I loved her very much. I still care about her.”

“That’s understandable,” Rosie said. “Do you want me to call for a welfare check at your address. Because I can.”

“No. Not that that.” Rye fished his phone from his pocket. “Just... call her. While you’re both here. So, you know, she can’t manipulate me or figure out where I am.” He shook his head. “I’m so pathetic.”

“No, you’re not.” Cutter took the phone from him. “What’s your passcode?”

Rye told him, and Cutter put it in, unlocking the phone. He found Rye’s contacts and tapped at Kristen’s name to connect the call.

To her credit, she answered right away, and Cutter put the call on speaker. “Rye! Is that you?”

“It’s me.”

“Where are you?” She demanded. “When are you coming home?”

Nothing about whether Rye was okay. In that moment, Cutter had never hated Kristen more.

“I’m at a friend’s house. I’ll be staying here for at least tonight. Maybe longer. I need some space.”

“Space? What does that mean? You know I’m sorry, right?”

Yep. He pretty much hated her.

“I hope so,” Rye said, “but I won’t be home tonight.”

“Damn it, Rye! I can’t believe you’re acting like this. Okay, I messed up tonight. I’m sorry. You need to come home, though.”

“He already told you he won’t be home tonight.” Rosie’s voice portrayed more calmness than Cutter could ever manage, and he wondered if it could be chalked up to experience. “I suggest you leave it at that.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kristen demanded. “Are you sleeping with my fiancée?”

To her credit, Rosie laughed. “No. I can assure you that is not happening.” She paused. “We merely called to see if you’re okay. I’m delighted to heat you are.” Rosie took the phone from Cutter. “Good night,” she added, before ending the call.

Rosie handed the phone back to Rye. “Are we good here?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he said.

“Okay. Then I’m going home to my wife. Feel free to call me in an emergency, but only an emergency. You’re in good hands with Cutter.”

“I know that,” Rye said. “Thanks again.”

Cutter walked Rosie to the door, then looked at Rye. “Let me help you to the guest room, get you settled in bed.”

“Bed. I like that.” Rye gave Cutter a sexy grin. “Are you staying with me?”

“Yes. Only because I’ve got to wake you up every hour to check on you.”

Rye laughed as he stood up. “Oh, I think we both know that’s not the only reason.”