It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.
I text Carlos that I’m being discharged and slowly walk outside to wait. As emergency-room visits go, this was pretty good. In and out in just under two hours. Pretty straightforward.
I’ve got a handful of paperwork that has me on activity restrictions for at least a week, which means no trip to Birmingham for me. If I’m not in Birmingham, I won’t be able to go to Atlanta either.
I mean, I can, technically. Flying isn’t out of the question. I’ll message Nathan and see what he says. I have to call out for the game anyway. I’m not supposed to have a lot of screen time, so I’ll have to take off from my day job as well.
A mini vacay. All it took was a minor brain injury. Go me.
I see my car pull up. Then I see who’s driving it.
Did Brandon not understand what the point of all of this was?
I move as fast as my body permits and slide into the passenger side, keeping my head down while also trying to scan for people recording us. It’s dark out now, so it’s hard to see much of anything. All this is way too much for my bruised brain to handle. I pull the hood up on the sweatshirt and push my hair over my face instead. I grab the sunglasses off my center console and put them on.
“Why are you here?”
“You need someone to drive you home. I wasn’t going to ask Carlos to do that. Plus, he and Landon had plans. We inconvenienced them enough.” He’s looking straight ahead. “I’ve got your stuff in the back. What’s your address?”
I turn and see my clothes folded neatly.
Brandon Nix touched my underwear.
I should be embarrassed. Instead, I feel a little thrilled.
Oh God, what is happening in my head right now? Are hallucinations and irrational thoughts part of this?
I tell him my address, which he promptly types into his phone. It looks like it belongs in my holder. He glances over at me. “Just close your eyes and rest. How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. My head hurts. I was nauseous too, but they gave me some Zofran for it.”
“Well, while you were off getting all drugged up, I solved our problem.”
I recline the seat a little and shift around, trying to get comfortable. “What do you mean, you solved our problem?”
“I found the perfect organization for us to work with.”
I lower my sunglasses to look at him. “Explain.”
“I figured it had to be a plausible reason that you and I would work together. But it seems like the only thing we have in common is messed up siblings.”
I start to protest, but Brandon holds up his hand to silence me. He continues, “You know what I mean. So I found this organization, Ryan’s Case for Smiles. They have a whole program that supports siblings of kids with chronic illnesses like cancer.”
“My brother doesn’t have cancer.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. They have online stuff and even events for the siblings. Not the kids who are sick, but their brothers and sisters who often get overlooked. You know, the ones who don’t get the attention because they’re healthy.”
“I want to disagree with you, but I don’t feel up to it.”
“Can’t you admit that I hit a home run with this?”
I squint at him, trying to see him more clearly in the darkness. Thanks to the sunglasses, I can barely make anything out. “You made a baseball reference. Shouldn’t it be a soccer one?”
“I played baseball too. I wanted to play football, but my mom wouldn’t let me.”
“I’m trying to picture you playing football. You’d be too small.”
“I could have been a running back, back in the day. Those guys are about my size. Or I could have been a kicker or punter.”
