Page 101 of Forbid It

It takes no time at all to get to the hospital, and he doesn’t let go of my hand for a single second.

45

ROBBIE

My head fucking hurts.

I squish my eyes closed to see if it changes the pain at all, but the stubborn light behind my lids causes me to slowly them open. A bright white light is all I can see, and I have a fleeting thought that I have died, but I can smell berry shampoo so maybe heaven just smells like Cassie. Just slightly out of reach for an eternal purgatory.

“He’s waking up.” I swear that’s her voice and her hand sliding into mine. “Robbie?”

I squeeze my eyes closed again.

“Let me kill the lights,” a different voice says now, distinctly male.

The lights dim, and I can finally peel my eyes apart.

There she is. Sat at my bedside, her hair in a familiar bun, and a distinctly glassy look in her eyes. Her cheeks are pale, and her eyes are red as if she’s been crying. I’m glad I’m lying down, because otherwise the sight of her would have knocked my knees out from under me.

“Hi,” she says softly, squeezing my fingers in between hers.

“Are you with us yet?” Santi asks from the other side of my bed, settled into the chair he’s pulled up by my hip. “You’ve been in and out of it for ages. The meds they have you on… jeez.” He shoots me a grin, and I let my head fall back with a groan.

Vague memories wash over me, of doctors and nurses and saying something before unconsciousness thankfully took hold.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice croaky.

“Oh I—” Santi starts but I interrupt him.

“No,” I say. I turn my head fully to Cassie, who’s still holding my hand. “You.”

She pulls away from me, and I fight the urge to clasp my hand back in hers.

“Oh,” she says in a quiet voice. She takes a steeling breath and glances at my teammate. “I was there.”

She was at the game? “Why?”

“I uh—” Her throat bobs as she swallows, and she glances at Santi. “It’s a long story,” she finishes softly.

I turn my head back, blinking at the ceiling. It’s a side effect of the concussion the way my eyes feel wetter than they did when I woke up.

“Mr King, you’re awake.” A nurse pops her head in the door. “We just need to run some minor tests. Your friends can wait outside.”

Santi gently pats my arm as he skirts his way around the end of the bed. Cassie stands, wiping beneath her eye gently. “I’ll see you later,” she says softly.

I busy myself with the thin blanket covering my lap. I don’t look up as the door closes behind them.

The nurse prods and pokes at me, asking me questions and taking vitals and whatever else she needs to do. I lay there patiently, flexing my legs just to make sure they’re still both working.

Furious anger clenches in my gut at the sight of the scar on my knee, even as relief threatens to buckle it. All this time I’ve been so worried about my fucking leg, and a boot to the head knocks me for six.

And Cassie saw. I guess most of the world saw. I barely remember getting off the pitch, which indicates I was likely carried off. Great. What is she doing here? Why did she come to this game after not even sending a single text? Why would she break up with me and then fly across the country just to sit in the stands?

“What time is it?” I ask the nurse.

“Just after ten. We’ll be keeping you in overnight for observation, but we can let your guests stay past visiting hours.” She shoots me a wink.

“No, it’s okay, they don’t have to stay,” I tell her. “I’m probably just going to sleep, they don’t have to be here for that.”