“Don’t,” she snapped. “Shut up and listen to your doctor for a change.”
Fuck. “So what is the verdict?”
“If I thought you’d adhere to my edict of no more MMA-style fighting—ever—I’d issue it.” The doctor furrowed his brow. “But I’ve dealt with your type for years—physical contact is in your blood. For you personally, it’s a way of life.”
“And my livelihood,” Ronin pointed out.
“Teaching is your livelihood,” Amery retorted. “Not fighting.”
Being a fighter—whether in the ring himself or teaching others, was what defined him. Who would he be if he didn’t have that?
“My recommendation is one more week of rest. During that time, while you’re working on physical therapy for your knee, you can start gentle stretches to maintain your flexibility. Then for the next month, no body-to-body impact. That means zero. If you can teach without physical demonstration, then return to teaching. But no jarring moves either against the mat, the heavy bag, or another person.”
A month wandering around his dojo doing goddamn nothing besides observing?
“Then I’ll see you in my office and we’ll run follow-up tests to see what level of activity you can safely resume.”
Despite the panic rising inside him, he managed a cool, “Even then, what are the chances my physical activity will be limited?”
“I guarantee if you don’t follow my instructions for at least a month, it’ll affect your recovery time. But beyond that? Time will tell. The best thing you can do as a teacher is to lead by example. Show your students that head injuries are serious—no matter what level of martial arts mastery you achieve. Don’t risk your life and your long-term health because of pride.”
“When can I go home?”
“Tomorrow. You’ll need someone to stay with you, at least for the first few days. I’ll call in a month’s meds to the pharmacy on file. Any further questions?”
“No.”
The doctor stood. “Give yourself time to heal. I’ve seen guys in car accidents who didn’t sustain these levels of injury.” He motioned for Amery to walk with him to the door.
What the f**k was he saying to her?
Take it easy. Getting angry put more pressure in his head. He closed his eyes. The thought of staying in this place another minute literally made him nauseous. He forced even, slow breaths to try to keep his heart rate steady so it wasn’t obvious on the monitor just how much he felt like a caged animal.
“Ronin?”
“What?” When he realized he’d snapped at her, he said, “Sorry. It’s just not what I wanted to hear.”
“I get that, but on some level you had to expect this.” She reached over and swept his hair from his eyes. “So are you going to ask me to stay with you and take care of you while you recover?”
No f**king way. She’d seen too much of his weak side already. “I don’t expect that from you.”
“Then why did you show up at my door?”
His soul screamed, Because I need you, but his mouth couldn’t force the words out. What if she believed the only reason he said that was because he required a caretaker for the short term? What he wanted—no, what he needed—from her was far, far more than that. So why couldn’t he tell her?
“Don’t pull that silent macho attitude on me. We both know you need me there. We both know my presence wouldn’t be like hiring a home health aide.” She paused. “But that would be easier for you, wouldn’t it?”
“Infinitely.”
“You are seriously pissing me off, and I’m about three seconds from walking out the door for good.”
“Please don’t.” Ronin grabbed her hand before she ran off. “Come here.” He relaxed when she threaded her fingers through his.
“Why are you trying to shut me out?”
Ronin turned his face to the wall.
“Hey.” She pinched his chin and slowly turned his head back toward her. “Last chance. Ask me.”
“Fine. Please stay with me. I need you so goddamn much it scares the shit out of me, okay?” Ronin locked his gaze to hers, trying to retain some control in this situation. “But if you agree, you’ll be in my home and in my bed for as long as my recovery takes.”
“That’s not—”
“Negotiable, Amery. Period.”
She smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Jesus. He’d fallen right into that.
“I’m practicing my bedside manner and telling you to get back in bed and rest.”
Like hell. He’d let her take care of him at his place, but he was getting out of here today as soon as possible—even if he had to f**king crawl.
After he’d situated himself in bed, he said, “You don’t have to hover.”
Amery looked torn. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” He touched her cheek. “Thank you for seeing past my bullshit and sticking around today.”
“You’re welcome. But as soon as you’re out of here, we’re having a talk about all the bullshit I can’t see past, the things you kept from me that forced me to walk away from you in the first place.” Amery kissed his wrist. “I’ll see you later.”
After she left, he picked up the phone.
CHAPTER THREE
DURING their conversation in the hospital, Amery had felt like the lines of communication had been reopened and Ronin wanted to establish trust and honesty between them.
But apparently that honesty didn’t include sharing his plan to escape from the damn hospital.
The stupid, stubborn man needed to be hog-tied to his goddamn bed—and not for sexy fun and games. Imagining him in a straitjacket, his ankles bound to the bedposts and a gag in his mouth, didn’t cool Amery’s fury even a little bit.
As soon as the elevator doors opened to the penthouse, she barreled down the hallway. “Ronin Black, you lying ass**le. Get your butt out here right now before I come in there and kick it!”
“No need to shout.”
She whirled around and saw him reclined in the far corner of the dark living room. “What is wrong with you? Why did you sneak out of the hospital?”
“I left because I wasn’t getting any rest anyway. I need the solitude of my own surroundings to help me heal.”
“And a phone call informing me of that was too much to ask?”