Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I set a hand on his shoulder and rubbed the base of his neck. “Shh. It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah…right,” Dex huffed, slowly straightening. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. This was a mistake. They say you should always listen to your gut, and I didn’t. And now I gotta warn you…I’m going to have a migraine within half an hour or less. I have pills at the cabin. They’ll help, but they won’t undo it. I’ll ride it out, and I’ll be better in the morning. I’m sorry.”
“No more apologies. Are you ready to go now?”
He swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes and nodded.
True to his word, Dex was immediately out of commission. He crawled into bed at three in the afternoon and didn’t stir until four in the morning. I slept on the sofa to give him space. I had no experience with migraines, but I thought he might want to be alone, and I was nearby in case he needed anything.
I sat up at the sound of shuffling feet.
Dexter’s hair stood on end. He seemed disoriented with slumped shoulders and eyes blown wide. “What time is it?”
“Early. Go back to bed.”
He licked his lips. “I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water. Lie down.”
Dex took my place on the sofa. “No. I’ve been asleep long enough. You take the bed, and I’ll rest out here.”
I handed over a glass of water and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, careful not to crowd him. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible.” He melted into the cushions and took a miserly sip. “Migraines are fucking evil.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And I’m embarrassed.”
I scratched my head. “Don’t be.”
He flashed a sardonic glance my way and closed his eyes. Lines of fatigue etched creases on his forehead and mouth, and the desire to protect flared. Dex was a grown man, capable and strong. I wished I could do something to ease his head or fight his battle with his mother; however, it wasn’t my place and I knew it. I was an accidental witness, not a savior.
Minutes ticked by, and the light slowly began to change. I thought about making coffee, but I didn’t want to disturb Dex. His breathing had evened out, his lips parting with every inhale and exhale.
“You’re staring at me,” he murmured.
My lips quirked in reluctant amusement. “I thought you were asleep.”
“That’s not creepy at all.”
“I wondered how long you could hold that water without spilling it,” I countered.
He opened his eyes then and set the glass on a battered side table before meeting my gaze. “I have a brain injury. I’m okay now, but it was severe. Traumatic, even.”
“In college?”
Dex hummed. “Fourth quarter concussion…game against the Wolverines. I was a sophomore quarterback. I was good. Really good. I was getting transfer offers, and my agent wanted me to skip all that and go pro. He said I’d proved myself and all I had to do was get through my season unscathed.”
“That didn’t happen.” I rubbed his thigh with my foot. “You don’t have to tell me the rest. I looked you up on the Internet while you were asleep. If it makes you feel better, it’s mostly about donuts.”
He chuckled lightly. “It does. I only know what happened after I saw the tapes. The last thing I remember was scanning the end zone for Serrano. I woke up the next day hooked up to a bunch of machines in a hospital room. My parents were there—Mom and Dad, and my girlfriend. Shelly or Shana. I don’t remember. I was flown to a trauma center in Ann Arbor. My mom hired preeminent neurologists and neurosurgeons to poke in my brain. Only the best. Everyone said the same thing. ‘He’ll be okay…it’ll just take time.’ I was hoping for a week or two, maybe a month and I’d be back on the field, but it took years. I was like that old man who fell asleep under a tree and woke up two decades later.”
“Rip Van Winkle,” I supplied.
“Yeah, him. Everything changed. I had blinding headaches and seizures…bad seizures. Mom hired a nurse to watch me till we found a medication that worked. I couldn’t go to school, I obviously couldn’t play ball, and with the exception of Troy, I lost touch with my friends. Some came to see me at first, but their lives were moving along, you know? Mine had crawled to a standstill.”
“The girlfriend?”
Dex snorted. “Gone. Big teary good-bye, too. But at least she said good-bye. My dad didn’t. He just fucked off to Buenos Aires or Rio. I have no doubt my mom scared him off with legal bullshit, so maybe he had an excuse. All I can tell you is that it was a dark era.”
“You got through it.”
“Yeah. I did. Took forever, but I finished my degree and my mom gave me a job at her firm.” He made a face. “I hated it. I dreamed of being a football star, not a nepo desk jockey. It was good in that I was amongst people again. I was so socially rusty, it was comical. There was this clump of years in my twenties where I didn’t date, rarely saw friends, or left the house. Suddenly, I was back.”