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Chapter 13
Julia
“What happened?” I asked, rushing into the emergency room and heading straight for Cash’s bed.
There were thin, pistachio green curtains on either side of him for the sake of privacy, though they were so flimsy and basically see- through that I didn’t understand the point.
Cash sighed dramatically. “Oh my God, Dyl. I told you not to make a big deal out of this.”
“They had to know,” Dylan said unapologetically before turning to Red and me. “He threw his shoulder out.”
I winced. “That sounds awful. How did it even happen?”
Cash shrugged his good shoulder. “I feel fine. Bob had me working combos on one of the bags and—” he made a popping sound with his lips “—something gave. It’s really not that big of a deal. I shoved it right back in. The doctor said it’s nothing more than a mild sprain.”
I shuddered. “That couldn’t have felt nice.”
“I cried like a little baby,” he said, words dripping with sarcasm.
“Please don’t joke. We were worried.”
Cash tilted his head to the side and smiled at me gently. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood.” He reached up and smoothed the frown between my brows. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered.
Red crossed his arms. “Bob?”
“He said he had to take an important call.”
“And how long ago was that, exactly?”
“Shortly after Cash was admitted,” Dylan said. “And that was about an hour ago.”
Red muttered something under his breath, too low and quick for my ears to catch. “I need to call our manager. He needs to know about your injury.”
Cash sat up straight, his back stiff as a board. “Dude, don’t.”
“What’s the matter?” I asked. “Shouldn’t your manager know?”
“I already know what Patrick’s going to say. He’s going to try and delay my fight if he finds out.” There was desperation in his eyes. “C’mon, Red. Please don’t tell him. I’m fine, I swear. It doesn’t even hurt that much.”
Dylan poked Cash’s bad shoulder. As expected, he flinched and hissed a string of colorful curses. “Yeah. Doesn’t even hurt that muchmy ass.”
My chest tightened. I could tell how much this debut fight meant to Cash, to them both. What would an injury like this mean for his upcoming match?
“Have you spoken to the doctor yet?” I asked. “If you’re careful and you ease up on the training, you’ll probably make a full recovery in a matter of weeks.”
Red huffed. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Red, please. I can fight through it.” I’d never seen or heard Cash more serious. “I’d do the same for you.”
The silence was heavy. Red didn’t say anything. He wasn’t being heartless, just hard. Without another word, he turned and walked straight out the door, already pulling his phone out of his back pocket.
I hated the defeat on Cash’s face.
“He’s just trying to look out for you,” I reasoned. “You could get seriously hurt if you go into a fight already injured.”
“I know you’re trying to be comforting, but this means way too much to me.”
