He rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Mason’s hand gripped the top of his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But you can be thankful it wasn’t worse. A full tear would be several months.”
Again, Mason was right, but that didn’t make any of this easier. There was no way Grant would get Rookie of the Year at this point. He’d most definitely lose his spot in the starting lineup. He was just a name on the roster—completely useless.
He tried not to focus on that as he sat toward the back of the team’s box while the game continued without him.
“Hey.”
Em’s voice pulled Grant from his pity-party. He looked from the field to where she stood, just on the other side of the board dividing their bench from fan seats. She gave him a small smile when his eyes met hers. Not only had he injured himself, but it was in front of the very girl he was trying to impress. “Hey.”
“I’m not going to insult you by asking if you’re okay.”
Grant chuckled. That was the most obvious segue into talking about what had happened, but he still liked that she wasn’t going to ask a question she already knew the answer to. “Thanks.”
There was a small stretch of silence before she asked, “Did Mason say how bad it is?”
Grant’s gaze went to his ankle where the ice pack still rested on it. “He thinks it’s a grade two sprain. If he’s right, I’ll be out for several weeks.”
“Oh, Grant. I’m so sorry.”
He slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. It sucks.”
“Want me to get you something? Since you can’t play, you could always eat a greasy piece of pizza from the concession stand and make the other players jealous.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Grant laughed again. He loved that Em was trying to cheer him up when the situation was as bleak as it was, but he shook his head. There was no way he’d be able to keep anything down right now. “Maybe I could take a raincheck? We could grab some another time.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Like a date?”
“Your words, not mine. Not that I would call second-rate pizza a date.” He shook his head. “What kind of guys do you let take you out?”
She looked away, and he wasn’t sure if she’d answer or not. “The kind that thinks that counts.”
He leaned over the best he could while having one of his legs propped up. “If you ever let me have the chance, I’d show you what it’s like to go out on a real date.”
She sighed. “Grant…I—”
Em didn’t get to finish her thought because the ball was kicked out of play and was flying right toward her. Grant didn’t think, he just reacted. He jumped up from his seat, letting his elevated leg fall as he leaned over the board and blocked the ball with his hands.
If he hadn’t, the ball would have hit her in the side of her head. Sure, players hit headers all the time, but they were ready for it and used their foreheads. Getting hit on the side of the face without warning? It would hurt much worse.
Em gasped. “That was going to hit me.”
The pain of moving his leg crashed over him, and he tried to keep his face neutral as he nodded. Grant didn’t want to let on how badly it hurt to get up.
Her hand flew to her chest. “And your foot. You should have just yelled at me.”
He shook his head. “And risked you turning your head and getting a broken nose or something? No way.”
“But you must be in so much pain.”
“It doesn’t feel great.” Grant eased back down onto his seat. “But it was worth it to make sure you weren’t hurt.”
Em’s mouth fell open, and she looked like she was about to say something, but she closed her lips.
“Oh my goodness, Em!” her friend Frida cried from her other side.
Em looked at Grant, obviously hesitating like she wasn’t sure if she should leave after he’d hurt himself.
