I storm into Connor's lavish building like a woman on a mission.

I've been here enough for the staff to remember me. Pete, the doorman tips his hat and allows me to pass, oblivious to the steam I feel coming out of my ears. Polly at the front desk buzzes me through to the elevator, and I jab the button to his floor so hard I fear my thumb might break.

What a doofus. I've called him that a thousand times in the months we've gotten to know each other, but this is the first time I've meant it. Why would he even think of risking his injury for me, of all people? I've been ignoring his calls and texts, so it's partly my fault, but he knows his career is one of the most important things to him. Recovery is imperative to get him back out on the ice, and with his team losing the past two games, he's no doubt carrying the weight of those losses on his shoulders.

I shift from one foot to another while the levels tick by, trying not to imagine when he had me shoved up against a very similar elevator from his private entrance in the parking garage. His hands dragged through my hair, and his lips burned a path of blistering heat down my neck.

No.

Connor and his stupid dimples and sexy body will not let me forget why I'm here. I'm mad at him for being so reckless. Mad that I was such a coward and ran away at the first opportunity. Mad that he's the only thing on my damn mind, even if I'm pissed as hell at him.

When the doors open, I do everything in my power for my confidence not to falter, my heeled boots clicking against the fancy floors of his home.

Am I furious at him? Yes.

Did I make sure to prepare for makeup sex? Also yes.

I changed into a pair of tight jeans and a cropped pink sweater, and with the help of Esme, my hair is freshly braided into a tight set of box braids. Back when we were in middle school, she heard me complain about French braids not being enough for my hair texture. Other girls would do each other's hair in study hall or gym, so Esme took it upon herself to learn all types of braids just for me. Soon enough, she was a pro and loved doing my hair.

My heart swells at the memory and how grateful I am that we're reconciling things and mending our friendship back to where it was.

I haven't worn my hair naturally since my sister passed.

Until today.

I freeze in the doorway of Connor's bedroom, where I find him. He's on his bed with an ice pack placed over his eyes and forehead, and when the floorboards creak beneath me, he doesn't bother checking to see who it is. He groans, and the sound of him hurting... The way he looks so vulnerable and helpless? Tears prick the backs of my eyes all over again.

Dammit.

I just did my makeup.

"Levi, I swear to fucking shit if you're here to lecture me again I'll—"

"Connor," I whisper softly. At the mention of my voice, I watch his body become rigid. "It's me."

The Connor before the accident would have launched himself off the bed and tackled me with kisses, but the Connor after the accident slides the ice pack slowly off his eyes, wincing in pain at the bright light. I quickly shut off the switch beside me, casting the room in only a soft glow now from the lamp in the corner of the room.

"If this is some sort of fucked up dream..." He mutters. "I'm hallucinating from the pain meds."

I was supposed to come in here and cuss him out for trying to get up to come and see me, but now that I see him like this? He's in agony and still tried to find a way to get to me, and with that knowledge, my anger dissipates like a deflated balloon.

Crawling onto the mattress beside him, his eyes scan mine, tracking the tears slowly slipping down my cheeks. Something inside of him seems to crack open at the sight, and then he reaches out to twirl a braid around his fingers, almost as if trying to reassure himself I'm real and not a figment of his imagination.

"Connor, I—" My voice cracks when his eyes soften, showcasing a mixture of relief and disappointment all at once. I let him down, but I don't plan on doing so ever again. I'm not going to lose the best thing to ever happen to me.

And then he cracks a grin and says, "Come here, baby."

I lie beside him and fall apart in his arms, allowing the heat of his body to warm me like a furnace and wrap me in a blanket of comfort. I'm an emotional mess with my tears staining his sweatshirt and my head buried into his chest, but I don't care. I'm having trouble grasping whether or not this is reality, too.

He's here.

He's okay.

He didn't leave me.

The thumping of his heart brings me a steadiness I didn't realize I needed, and the sound eventually turns my sobs into sniffles, Connor's hand rubbing gentle strokes along my spine.

"I'm okay," Connor reassures, his voice clogged with emotion.

"You're not okay." Resting my chin on his chest, I analyze the bruises dotting the side of his face. "You were in a horrible accident when you needed me the most, and I wasn't there. I-I was so scared of going back to the hospital and having them tell me you didn't make it, Connor. It makes me a fucking coward, but the thought of losing you..."

"I forgive you," he whispers. "I understand why you were terrified, and I forgive you."

I scoff. "You say that like it's easy. You shouldn't forgive me. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

"Good thing it's my forgiveness to dole out then, isn't it?" A strangled sob works its way up my throat when he begins to twirl a braid around his fingertips again. "Not everything has to be complicated, baby. I know about your past and your path to healing. This accident threw you off guard, and I don't blame you for getting scared. You know what I'm proud of, though?"

My eyes feel swollen and puffy, but regardless, a tiny smile works its way onto my mouth. "Hm?"

"That you faced your fears and decided to come here anyway knowing it'd scare you to see me like this. You being here despite how many days it took tells me all I need to know. You care about me, Aria Monroe. Admit it."

My feelings run so much deeper than that. It's the main thing I regretted when his head hit the ice, and it's the only thing that's been on my mind for the past seven days. I'm done running from the things that scare me. I'm done letting my past take over the present and future.

I cup his cheek with my hand, running my thumb gently over a bruise. Then, with my eyes locked on his, I say, "I don't just care about you. I love you, Connor Holden, and I'm tired of fighting it."

A few moments of silence pass between us after the admission, and my heart is hammering so hard in my chest that I'm surprised he can't hear it. "You love me," he repeats more to himself than me. Then, after another few seconds of contemplation, "Yeah, it's definitely the pain meds. I'm hallucinating, aren't I?"

"Nope. Not hallucinating. Now that you've cracked me open, be prepared to get tired of how many times I'm going to say it," I tease.

He grabs my chin and tugs me to meet his lips, ensuring to keep his head on the pillow. His hands find their way to my ass before he tugs me on top of him so I'm covering his body completely. I can feel his hardness between my legs, and our kiss becomes more intense before I feel him wince against me.

"Shit," I mutter. "Sorry. We shouldn't be doing this." When I move to roll off of him, he wraps his legs around me, holding me in place.

"Don't you dare move," he growls.

"I'm not going to have sex with you when you're healing from a concussion. Are you out of your mind?"

"Always, when it comes to you." He tugs on a braid and arches a brow. "Do you expect me not to go feral when you come over looking so damn good?"

My cheeks heat with uncertainty. "Are you sure you like them? I haven't worn my hair natural since..."

He nods in understanding. "I know, baby, and again, I'm glad you're facing your fears. I'm a huge fan of the braids, in fact..." He squeezes my ass, and I tug hard on my bottom lip to stop myself from jumping his bones. "If you'd let me, I'd show you just how much of a fan I am of them."

I roll my eyes, untangling myself from him before he uses that charm of his and gets his way. "You'll be pleased to know that for the remainder of your bedrest, I will be the one staying with you."

He smirks. "Couldn't think of a better person to nurse me back to health. Actually, now that you're here, I have a big...hard...and throbbing medical issue that needs solving immediately."

It's an effort to hold my laugh back. "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of nurse."

He chuckles, wincing from the movement. "We'll see by the end of the week, baby. I'll have you moved in and wearing a ring on your finger in no time."

Now it's impossible to hide the eruption of giggles that explode out of me, and Connor's smile in return tells me he's not joking one bit. It's the kind of smile he's shown me from day one, and I tried to fight it tooth and nail. I didn't want to fall into his charm and playboy tactics, but little by little, he chipped at my defenses, and now he's broken his way through. Maybe that's why the thought of moving in and wearing a ring doesn't scare me in the slightest anymore.

I have no doubt Connor will follow through on his plans, and for the first time, I don't have any intentions of stopping him. 

Author's Note:

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