Page 147 of Cross Check
“Not cool, Everett.” She flips onto her back and looks at me with a grin. Her nose is red. There’s snow caught in the ends of her pigtails, and her cheeks are flushed. “I hope you’re prepared for what happens next.”
“Yeah?” I grab a handful of snow and pack it tight. I toss it at her, chuckling when she flails and tries to cover her head. “Now you can have a wet ass too.”
“Stop. My stomach hurts from laughing.” Amelia giggles. She spreads her arms and legs out then brings them to her body while making a snow angel. “I never thought my ass cheeks would go numb. What a weird sensation.”
“Talk about a kink.” I sit up and dust off my hoodie. “How are you holding up over there, instigator?”
“I’m thriving. I was made for the snow. You can’t bring my spirits down.”
“I forget you Wisconsinites love to be frozen.”
“It’s the preferred temperature.” She’s slow to stand. When she’s upright, she glances at me with the shake of her head. “You’re on your own to get up. I’m not trusting you again.”
“Good thing I’m capable at handling things myself.” I pop to my feet. My clothes are soaked from head to toe thanks to the melted snow, and Amelia’s jacket is wet too. “We might have to raincheck the snowball fight. There are only three more days of the All-Star break, and we don’t need to spend them sick.”
“I’m going to pretend you’re conceding because you know you’d lose,” she says, and I can see her breath as she talks. “Not because you care about my well-being.”
That’s a goddamn lie.
I know I care about her well-being too much because I want to hold her against my chest. I want to run a warm bath for her and braid her hair while I make sure she isn’t cold anymore.
I can’t tell her those things, so I give her a smile instead.
“You’d kick my ass. C’mon, Green.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Let’s get warm and have some hot chocolate and cookies.”
Forty-five minutes later, we’re both dry. Amelia offered me clothes before she popped into the shower, and I’m making the athletic shorts work. They come up to the tops of my thighs, but I’m warmer than I was before.
“I still can’t feel my hands.” Amelia appears in the living room. She’s holding two steaming mugs I’m guessing are full of hot chocolate. “Do you think I have frostbite?”
“You might. Come here so I can check you out.”
“Let me set these down so I don’t ruin the rug.” She walks over to me, her posture relaxed, her clothes loose and comfortable. “There’s a good chance I’ll spill.”
“We wouldn’t want that. It’s a nice rug.” I take the cups from her and set them on the coffee table. I uncurl her fingers and flip her hands over. “All right. Time to diagnose you.”
“When did you become a doctor?”
“I wanted to go to medical school, remember?” I study her lifelines and the ridges of her knuckles. “I took pre-med courses at FSU, and frostbite was one of the things we covered.”
“Really?” Amelia scoots closer. “Give me some of the signs.”
“Did you know there are different stages of frostbite? Frostnip is first. It makes your skin red. You feel cold, then numb.” I brush my thumb over her painted fingernails, glad to find her perfectly healthy. “That’s stage one.”
“And stage two?”
“Mild frostbite. There’s a change in skin color. Your skin starts to feel warm.” My voice cracks. Her presence is utterly distracting. “Stinging or swelling. There might be blisters.”
“That doesn’t sound very good.”
“No. It’s not. The worst stage is deep frostbite. It starts impacting the tissue below the skin, which can turn white or almost gray. Blisters would appear after twenty-four hours.”
“What do you think, doc?” She tips her chin to look at me. I’m still holding her hand, trailing over every line and bump on her fingers. “Am I going to be okay?”
She is going to be okay, but I’m not sure I am.
I’m always useless when I’m close to her, and right now is no different.
I want to kiss each of her fingers. I want to wrap her hair around my wrist. I want to relax and let her get comfortable between my legs with her head on my chest.
