Page 18 of Colliding with Ten

“You didn’t,” she said, a little breathless.

She cleared her throat and pulled back. “You don’t have to feel guilty. It was an accident.”

“Yes.” I sat back on the stool and put the ice back on the injury. “But it doesn’t make it easier to watch you hit the turf.”

Her eyes softened. “You’ve been there, haven’t you? The knee.”

I smiled at that. She had read up on me, or maybe her brother told her. Deep down, I was hoping that she had done the looking herself.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Left side, almost two years ago. Except mine tore clean through. Rehab was hell.”

She nodded, understanding. “Guess we’re both lucky then. It could have been worse.”

“Luck’s one word for it.” I paused, my voice dropping lower. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I put you in the hospital tonight.”

“You didn’t put me anywhere. You were playing the game. I wasn’t paying attention, and I should have been.”

The way she said it made me relax. She wasn’t blaming me, which took a load off my shoulders. I didn’t want to leave with her thinking poorly of me. I glanced at the door, half expecting her brother to burst back in.

“You really shouldn’t defend me while you’re wearing that brace.”

“The team and I will get our revenge when you come back. You’d better protect your blind side.”

I beamed at her. She tilted her head, amusement ghosting over her lips. Our eyes held, two people who shouldn’t have been in the same room, alone together, both aware of how thin the air had become.

Then I cleared my throat. “Anyway, I wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ll get out of your way before your brother calls security.”

“Thanks for checking on me, Monroe.”

Hearing my name in her voice made me smile, and I wanted to hear her say it again. I paused at the door, hand on the handle, my eyes catching hers. “Take care of that knee, Callahan. You’re gonna need it when the rematch comes around.”

“Why?”

“Because next time, I plan on making you cheer for me.”

Her mouth fell open. “I didn’t hit my head that hard, Monroe.”

I liked the sound of my name better the second time, with the humor in her tone. If I didn’t have her attention before, I had it now.

“And tell your brother he can keep the gray hairs. I’ve got enough of my own.”

She laughed, realizing that I had heard their conversation before I knocked. As I opened the door and stepped out, I told myself not to look back. But damn it, I did, needing one last look at her before I was gone.

The night air was chilly as I crossed the lot to the team bus. The rest of the team was already on the bus, and I should have been on it too. I stopped a few steps from the door. Across the staff parking lot, Stokes was pushing a wheelchair with Ayla, her leg elevated on the footrest. Callahan walked beside her, holding her crutches and the hand of another woman, whom I guessed was his girlfriend based on his body language. He leaned down when she spoke and wrapped his hand around hers, as if afraid to let go.

They made a strange picture, all four of them under the harsh glow of the parking lot lights. Odd as it might have been, they looked like a family. Ayla’s head tilted back, her curls catching the light as she laughed at something Stokes said. I couldn’t hear her laugh. They were too far, and the bus engine was too loud. But seeing how it affected her was its own reward. Her face lit up, shoulders shaking as her hand pressed against her chest. Standing there, watching, I knew I wanted to hear it.

They stopped by a dark Escalade. The woman with Callahan leaned into him and kissed him before taking the crutches and stowing them in the back. Callahan opened the back door. Stokes crouched, slid one arm under Ayla’s knees and the other behind her back, lifting her. Her hand caught his shoulder for balance, then she ruffled his short locs, a move so affectionate, I wondered who he was to her. They laughed again.

My chest twisted.

Stokes eased Ayla inside the back of the vehicle. Callahan said something that made Ayla roll her eyes, and his girlfriend smacked his arm. Teasing and laughing with each other, they looked like they had done this a thousand times.

I couldn’t tear myself away from watching them. From watching her. Just closure, I told myself. Then Stokes pulled a blanket over her knees and brushed a curl off her forehead. She smiled at him, and I knew then I wanted to be the one touching and teasing her, the one making her laugh.

I watched until the Escalade's taillights disappeared. The bus hissed beside me.

“Yo, Monroe,” one of the guys called. “You comin’ or what?”