Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
My knees sag. “Okay?”
Charlie knows what I’m asking. “No spinal damage.”
I let out a gust of air. “Okay. Okay.” Standing straight, I face Charlie. And then I’m hugging him. He pounds my back, and I pound his, both of us breathing too hard. I let him go with a final squeeze then step back and rub my eyes.
“Coach wants to see you,” Charlie says when we head back toward the locker room.
“Now? Jesus.”
I find Coach Calhoun waiting for me.
“You hear about Ryder?” he asks without preamble.
“Charlie told me.”
He nods, the relief in his eyes clear. “We need to talk about a few things. Got a minute?”
It’s not really a question, just Calhoun’s way of being polite, which is rare in and of itself.
“I was planning to go see Jake.”
“He’s under sedation.”
“That’s good. He needs the rest. Still plan to go.”
“Nobody but family is getting in to see him tonight.”
“I’ll get in.”
His eyes narrow. “We’ve hired guards to keep everyone out. You’re not getting in.”
Our stare stretches. It’s a delicate thing, saying no to your coach. If you don’t have a good reason for it, you’re accused of not being a team player. Management does not find that amusing. Press gets wind that you’re being uncooperative—somehow, they always find out—and suddenly there’s talk of “problems” between the player and the coaching staff.
Politics suck. But there’s also respect. I respect the hell out of my coach. Enough that I can wait a few minutes more to go see Jake.
I let out a silent sigh. “Your office?”
Appeased, he relaxes, too. “Won’t take too long.”
I haven’t taken a step when my phone rings. I reach to turn it off, but it’s Chess’s ringtone. Until now, I haven’t let myself think of her; it’s hard enough worrying about Jake. But the wall is crumbling. I need to hear her voice, to see her. Hell, I need her.
Calhoun shoots me a glance, as Cyndi Lauper’s Goonies song plays on. Gritting my teeth, I ignore the call. It feels fundamentally wrong to do it. But twenty minutes isn’t going to kill either one of us. Twenty minutes, I promise myself.
We’re almost at Coach’s office when Chess calls again. Hell.
“You ever heard of turning that thing off, Mannus?”
He’s one to talk. Gossip has it Calhoun brings his into the shower with him.
“Give me a second.” I pull the phone from my pocket. “I’ll tell them I’m in a meeting.”
The second I answer, I know something is wrong. It isn’t Chess’s voice coming at me in a rush. It’s James’s. “Thank fuck you finally answered.”
“What’s wrong? Why are you using Chess’s phone?”
“Chess is hurt. She’s in the hospital . . .”
Had I felt panic with Jake? That was nothing to this. Everything stops. Black spots dance before my eyes. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.
This isn’t fear. This is terror.
“Mannus? You there?”
“What hospital?” I manage.
James gives me the name and then takes an audible breath. “She’s okay. Just . . . I think she’d want you here when she wakes up.”
Wakes up?
A weird sound comes out of me. I clench the phone. “I’m on my way.”
My fingers feel numb as I hang up. In fact, my whole fucking face feels numb. “I have to go,” I tell my coach, who stares at me as if I’ve lost it.
“Now? Who was that? One of Ryder’s sisters?”
“No. My girl. She’s . . .” Don’t lose it. “She’s in New York. I’ve got to go.”
“You’re going to New York?” His voice rises. “We have meetings tomorrow.”
Already, I’m texting Charlie, telling him to book me the next flight out and fuck the expense. Any flight. Now.
“Mannus,” Calhoun snaps. “You listening?”
I meet his gaze head-on. “Yes, Coach. Meetings. I’ll attend every single one of them. As soon as I get back from New York.”
He stares at me, his mouth open.
I should feel bad. Worry, maybe. I don’t. I was the number one draft pick of my year. And for the first time, I’m playing that card. “My girl is in the hospital. She is my family. And I’m going to be with her.”
It’s as if Coach is moving in slow motion, but he finally nods. “Give Ms. Copper my best.”
I don’t answer; I’m already running down the hall, my whole fucking life waiting for me in New York.
Twenty-Four
Chess
Hospitals are horrible. Especially waking up in one. I threw up and they scanned my brain for internal swelling or bleeding. That scared the shit out of me. Apparently, I have a concussion. Which means I spent the night being checked on in intervals that felt too short and were annoying since it meant I couldn’t sleep. I really wanted to sleep.
It’s morning now. My head weighs a metric ton and throbs as if someone is steadily kicking it. But the nausea is gone, and I’m no longer dizzy. I’ve been allowed to shower and put on my street clothes. Yeah, a hospital shower with antiseptic smelling shampoo that turns hair into straw.