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TWENTY-FIVE
Brock
My head wasn’t in the game. Neither was my heart, for that matter. They’re both with Joey. She should be driving home about now, and that means as soon as these damn doctors clear me, I can head home to her. I still haven’t talked to her, and it’s killing me. I can’t concentrate, and all I can think about is her. She knows I’m innocent, but that’s not enough for me. I need to get my arms around her. I need to hold her and kiss her and tell her how much she means to me. I need to feel her in my arms.
I can’t breathe without her.
“Williams.” Dr. Stern, the team doctor, snaps his fingers. “Can you follow my finger?” he asks. I follow his finger and manage to be present enough to answer his array of questions he deems necessary to put me through. I get it. It’s concussion protocol, and the league takes this shit seriously. I understand why, and I agree with them, but I can’t concentrate for shit, and it has nothing to do with the hit I took out there on the field and everything to do with the one that blasted my heart.
“All good, Doc?” I ask. I need to get to my locker and see if she’s called or texted me. I don’t really expect her to have doneeither since I know she’s driving home, but a man can hope. I sent her so many messages that have all gone unanswered. My anxiety level is through the roof. I’ll fight for her. For us. I won’t lose her over this. I won’t. If she can’t handle the press, I’ll give it all up. What I won’t give up is Joey. Never my Sunshine.
“You have a mild concussion. You’ll have to sit out from practice for at least a week.”
“Okay.” I move to get off the table.
“And you can’t stay by yourself.”
“I have roommates.”
“I can’t guarantee that you’ll be able to play in next week’s game. You need to be symptom-free and must be able to pass the baseline tests. I have some dynamic stretches and balance training you can do, but I don’t want you to start them for at least forty-eight hours.”
“Fine.” I move to stand and sway a little.
“You need to just lie here for a few.”
“I can’t do that,” I tell him.
“You’re not going back out there, Brock,” he says, exasperated.
“I know.” I try to stand again, this time, I’m successful, but the room spins.
“What in the hell are you doing?” This comes from the doorway, from a voice I recognize as my best friend.
“I need to get to my phone. I need to check on Joey.”
“Fuck, Brock. You just took one hell of a hit. Sit your ass down,” he grumbles.
“Have you heard from her?”
He holds up his helmet. “Game just ended.”
“Right.” I nod, and the move only makes my head feel as though it might explode.
“Sit down,” Caleb hisses.
“I need my phone.”
“Fine. I’ll get it. Just sit the fuck down.” He turns to the door, pushes it open, but steps back when the phone in his hand rings. He grins as he strides back to where I’m leaning against the bed and shows me the screen. Joey. A sob breaks free from my chest when I see who it is.
My Sunshine.
“Hey, Joey,” Caleb greets.
“Caleb!” She sounds frantic. “I just heard. How is he? Please tell me he’s going to be okay.”
“I’m right here, Sunshine,” I call out, already feeling better just hearing the sound of her voice.
“Brock.” Her voice cracks. “Let me see him,” she says, and Caleb hands me the phone.
