"You've been awfully quiet,” Carrie says, lying next to me in my childhood bed the next morning as we approach game fifty-five.

"I'm sorry.” I shift, turning to face her. “I'm just tired and my shoulder's been hurting me."

"Well, c'mere. Let me fix that.” She rolls me onto my stomach, seating herself on top of me before she begins massaging my back with her fingers. “Your muscles are so tense, babe. I know this streak is driving you crazy, but you gotta try to relax."

"Ah!” I wince, when she squeezes my shoulder.

"Is that where you got hit last night?” She stops what she’s doing, peering down, her hair gliding across my back. “Oh wow, look at it. It's all black and blue."

"I'll survive,” I mumble with my face in the pillow.

"Hold on,” she says, sliding off me. “I'll go get some ice."

"I like when you take care of me, you know,” I respond, watching her hastily cover her naked body with my shirt.

"I know." She winks at me, before slipping out to the kitchen.

I close my eyes and try not to think about the pain. I’ve been hit plenty of times, but I’ve never had anyone around to baby me and patch me up like this.

I don’t even hear Carrie tiptoe back in before an icy jolt touches my skin.

"There. How does that feel?" she whispers.

"Cold,” I mutter.

"Very funny,” Carrie teases, dabbing me with the handful of ice she has wrapped in a towel.

I tilt my head to the side, watching her. "I'd rather have you kiss it and make it better."

"Does that really work?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Your lips are magic, Care Bear,” I reply, enjoying how easily I can make her blush.

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