wild woman

Marcy is the first one in your eyeline. She's cursing repeatedly, sliding her hands under your back to help you sit up. You're dazed and in pain, eyes watering from the impact. She helps you sit up, facing the rink, and that's when you see Jay taking the stairs two at a time, barking at anybody in her way.

She first grabs the guy who must've knocked into you by his shirt collar.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" she snaps at him. "What, is it your first day on earth? You hurt my wife, asshole!"

He shouts back something unintelligible, probably drunk. You really don't want her to get into a fight and kick anyone's ass. As annoyed as you are, you know he didn't push you on purpose.

"Jay," is all you can say, weakly reaching for her. Marcy's the only one keeping you from slumping forward like a sack of potatoes. There's a little blood on both of your knees where you scraped them.

"Jay," Marcy says urgently, drawing her attention. "She needs you."

Instantly, Jay lets go of the guy and kneels to your aid. Security comes quickly and pulls him out of the stadium. Now it's just the three of you... and about five thousand fans watching Jay fret over you.

"I'm fine," you say, but Jay ignores you, scooping you up and setting you down across two seats. Your legs are propped on the armrest. She checks your head first, hands going to your temples. Jay moves a finger in front of you, and you follow it a few times before closing your eyes.

"Jay—"

"Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy?"

"No, it's just my knees." Your ribs are definitely bruised, but that'll freak her out more. You try to use your more tender tone when you say, "Baby, I'm fine."

Jay cups the back of your knees, panic splitting her face. "That's blood." She looks absolutely devastated by this. "Let's go see the medic."

You wince, glancing at the three rows of people behind and ahead of you, watching in fascination. Many of them have their phones out. You'll probably see a clip and cringe at how you look in this moment while simultaneously adoring how concerned Jay is.

For now, you're just embarrassed. Marcy looks at you sympathetically, behind Jay.

"Jay, maybe we can wait till the crowd clears," Marcy suggests.

Jay stands, hands on her hips. "Yo! Is everybody gonna stay in their seats until she gets down the stairs?"

"Oh my God," you mumble as several fans nod, give a thumbs up, and yell back yeses.

Jay nods like she expected everyone to follow her lead without question, and if you weren't bruised, you'd probably dwell on the hotness of that. The thought still passes, though you're unable to give it its due diligence because Jay's sliding her hands under your thighs and back, about to pick you up again.

You quickly stand, face hot. "Jay, I can walk myself."

She looks you over. "Sure?"

"I am not some princess who needs to be carted around," you say, as tempting as it is to let Jay, who easily tackles women twice your size, carry you for the rest of the night.

But if you want to help prove that you really are okay, you need to walk. She's still looking at you like you might collapse any second.

You squeeze past her and begin to walk down the bleachers, holding the railing. Your knees sting, but it's not the end of the world.

"Simmons, on her back," Jay says, and Marcy obediently follows behind you. Jay jogs down to walk in front of you, hand outstretched in case you need it.

"Didn't know I had my own secret service detail," you say, laughing.

"If they were still out here, I'd get the whole team to walk you down," Jay says.

You roll your eyes. "For a couple of bruis—oh!"

Your left knee buckles, weak from the collision. Jay grabs you, arm around your waist. She doesn't let go for the remaining steps.

"I gotcha, sweetheart," she murmurs, voice slightly shaky. "Doin' great. Take it easy."

You finally make it off the bleachers, and Jay leads you through the players' entrance. You're about to ask if this is allowed, but it doesn't seem like anyone is going to try and stop Jay if it isn't.

"I'll go find Shauna and meet you outside," Marcy says when you get to the first aid room. She touches your arm. "You okay?"

You nod, smiling. "I'm tough. Tie my own sneakers and everything."

She winks. "Know you are. Jay?"

"Yeah," Jay says, still holding you close. "My phone's on, just call. Thanks, Mars."

Jay takes you inside and sits you down on a bench. She points out your bloody knees. An older woman in a paramedic uniform gets to work instantly.

"Some fuckin' bozo crashed into her on the bleachers," Jay says, arms crossed as she watches you both. "Can you look her over, Lu?"

"Of course I can," Lu—short for Lucy, as her ID badge shows—says, pulling up a chair to inspect you.

She does a few concussion tests, checks your head, your neck. Then she cleans your skinned knees and sticks on thick, rectangular bandages. You wince at the antiseptic and Jay takes your hand.

"Squeeze as hard as y'need, baby," she says quietly.

You're a little embarrassed in front of Lucy, but she just smiles, evidently endeared. Maybe it's well-known on the team just how much Jay Todd loves her girlfriend.

"You're okay," Lucy tells you. "No concussion. Ice the backs of your knees. If anything changes or if the pain worsens, go to the hospital."

"Y'sure?" Jay asks, chewing her cuticle. You want to reach over and swat her hand away.

"I'm sure, Jay," Lucy says, smiling. "It's good you brought her, but she's fine. Just monitor her for the rest of the night."

Great. You'll have Jay on you like a hawk today. She probably will herd you into bed and keep you there like the world's most annoying sheepdog.

"I'll watch her," Jay says. "Thanks, Lu."

Lucy smiles. "Anytime. Good game today." She looks at you. "Feel better."

"Thanks," you say.

She leaves, and it's just you and Jay. You crane your neck—she's on the Uber app.

"Jay, your apartment is a ten minute walk from here." It is, in fact, where you walked from, to the arena, earlier tonight.

"Yeah, and? You're not walkin' in your condition."

"In my condition? Baby, I got a few bruises, I didn't split my head open."

"You cut your knees. 'S not safe."

You sigh. There's no use arguing when she's like this. You're accustomed to Jay getting dinged up at games, and you've forgotten that she's not used to seeing anyone else hurt. Least of all you.

"That guy had something wrong with him," she says as she waits for the available drivers to load. "Sprintin' down the stairs like that. Fuckin' jerk."

"He could've been more aware, but it's not like he did it on purpose," you say.

She makes a noise that tells you she doesn't want to argue, but she also doesn't agree regarding who deserves the blame. Jay sits next to you on the bench, and you lean against her shoulder. She immediately puts her arm around you, then bends down and kisses the top of your head.

"You called me your wife," you say.

You feel her freeze. "Oh, uh, yeah." She clears her throat, rising. "I, um... sorry."

You pick your head up to look at her. "What're you sorry for, Jaybee?"

Her cheeks are tinged rose. "Just slipped out. Didn't mean to."

"Would you, though?"

"Would I what?"

"Make me your wife."

Jay drops her phone into her lap. Her eyes are wide. Your heart beats faster as you watch her watch you. Her mouth makes shapes as they find words.

"I—" She swallows. "Yeah. If you wanna marry me."

You lean in, glancing at her lips, then back at her eyes. Your voice is soft as you say, "I'd love to be your wife, Jay."

"Oh. Like... now?"

You grin. "Whenever you ask me, I'll say yes."

"Right. Okay. Cool." Jay's phone chimes and she almost smacks it out of her lap. She fumbles to unlock it. "Uber's here."

You stand, and she follows, holding your arm even though Lucy gave you the all-clear. She texts Marcy with one hand, letting her know where you'll be.

"'M glad you're okay," she says as you walk out and down the hall. "Was so scared. When I saw you on the steps..." Her voice trembles.

You rub her arm with your other hand. "I know, Jaybee. But I really am fine. It was nothing like any of your falls."

She pushes open the exit doors and letting go of you long enough so that you can go first. Jay immediately picks your arm back up when you're outside as you wait at the pickup stop.

"Yeah, but those falls are expected. This was..." She shakes her head. "Should let me carry ya 'round like a princess all day long."

You laugh, squeezing her forearm to your chest. "And how would you play hockey?"

"Well, I'd have to swap shifts with someone. Although..."

She turns to you and gently cups the small of your back, pulling you in so she can kiss you. It's softer than her usual post-game kisses. Jay especially loves to kiss you fast and hard after a win, a thrill that never gets old.

But she's careful now, wary of your bruises, like you are with her after games and practices.

You're still breathless when Jay breaks the kiss. She kisses your cheek and your jaw before pulling away.

"Although," she continues, looking at you like she sees nothing and no one else. "I'd get a little jealous of whoever got to carry my wife when I'm not around."

Your breathing hitches at my wife. You can tell Jay notices. Already, you can hear her saying hi, pretty wife and lemme eat my wife like she needs when she's sure you aren't hurt and can take her on top of you once more.

You want her on top of you right now, but aside from the fact that it's public indecency, Jay is not going to put all her weight on you and finger you until you cry tonight. Tomorrow, though... tomorrow, you'll have her wear the strap and ride her until your spine gives out.

"Well, I wouldn't let anybody's hands on me except for my wife's," you say, and that elicits a shiver from Jay.

"Your wife," she says, reverent.