Page 2 of What About Us

And if that isn’t the hardest sentence I’ve ever said in my life.

“Damn. Okay, we’ve got you.” He turns to speak to someone else. “We’ll need an MRI right away on the knee.”

When I’m finally on my feet, I do my best to hold my right leg up as pain sears up and down my body and I’m helped off the ice.

The crowd is screaming, and I wave at them. I won’t be seeing them again this season.

Probably not next season either.

“Torn ACL, PCL, and meniscus.” The team doctor’s face is in grim lines as he delivers the news, and I might throw up.

It could be from the constant dizziness and nausea from the concussion.

Or from the fucking anger and despair rolling through me right now because that means I’ll be out for⁠—

“You’ll be out through next season.”

“Fuck that.” I shake my head, but the doctor nods.

“You have a rough road ahead of surgery and therapy, Hendrix. This is a nine-to-twelve-month recovery, minimum. I’m sorry.”

He’s grim as he leaves the room, and then Cooper walks in, and he can see it on my face.

“Jesus,” he mutters and pushes his hand through his sweaty hair. The game is over—we lost, so we’re out for the season—but he hasn’t been in to take a shower yet. “I should have killed fucking Matthews.”

“I should have known better than to let him get that close,” I reply and lean back on the table so I can rest my head. The dizziness hasn’t been this bad in months. “I should go talk to the team.”

“You don’t look so hot,” he replies. “You’re pale as fuck.”

I feel like I’ve been on a bender.

I already spoke with my family. My sister Harper had a baby today. A little girl that I want to hold and cuddle and spoil the fuck out of.

Instead, I’m stuck here.

And this injury means that I won’t be able to go home for a long while because the team will insist that I work with their doctors and PT team, and goddamn it.

This is not what I needed.

CHAPTER ONE

XANDER

Tucker: I’m asking Darby to marry me tomorrow night.

Ava: Holy shit! Are you going to be romantic? Be romantic, Tuck. Also, can we be there?

Easton: I don’t want to be there if things are going to get . . . naked.

Ismirk, watching the messages roll in from my siblings one after the other. I knew that my older brother would be proposing to his girl soon. He’s been itching to for a couple of months, but he didn’t want to scare her off.

As if Darby’s going anywhere. She’s too in love with him.

And I miss them all so much that it fucking hurts.

Dad: About time. What do you need from us?

The family group chat continues for another thirty minutes while plans are firmed up, and I hate that they’re all going to be together tomorrow night for this important moment and I’m stuck here in Denver.