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She drew one leg up, held it to herself. “I dunno. I…there was this guy named Judah—an American—who was in the container next to me—”
“Container?”
“Let’s call it a cell. And we could talk to each other through this hole in the floor, and he was just…like, an angel. He kept telling me that I wasn’t alone, that God was with me. Told me not to be afraid. I don’t know—he was right. Godwaswith me. Judah told me that peace isn’t the absence of fear, but the presence of Jesus, and I felt that, you know?”
Iris considered her. “No, I…maybe I don’t know.”
“Avocado toast and tea,” Zach said, coming from the kitchen. “I’m no gourmet, but I think I did pretty good smashing those avocados.”
He set a pot on a hot pad. “And tea. Which is disgusting but, since you can’t have wine or a shot of tequila, is the best we can do. Here’s some milk. And a vat of sugar.” He had retrieved those from the kitchen and set them on the table.
Iris tried to push herself from the sofa. Groaned.
“Stop. You’re hurting me. Just—stay there.” Zach picked up a plate, loaded it with a piece of toast, and brought it over. “How many ribs are cracked?”
“Two. But it feels like a horse tromped my insides.”
“A two-hundred-and-fifty-pound defensive end, more like.” He set the plate beside her on the wooden coffee table. “Here you go.” He leaned down and helped ease her up to a sitting position. She groaned again.
“More drugs?”
“I’m already seeing colors, so maybe not. Just, can you hand me the toast?”
He set the plate on her lap. “Tea?”
“Water.”
“Good choice.” He walked back to the kitchen. “You think you’re a wreck, you should have seen the hits Hud put on Vogel in the fourth quarter. That guy has to be hurting.”
She set her toast down. Swallowed. “Really?” Probably wasn’t great that the thought sort of filled her with warmth.
But that and the way he’d walked into the ER room with such…ferocity…it sort of shook her. Like maybe he’d almost been…scared?
No, that wasn’t right.
“Yeah. Hud hit Vogel so hard my teeth rattled.”
“Did anyone call it?”
He poured himself a cup of tea, added about a gallon of milk. “Nope. Technically, it was just a block.”
“Every time?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She’d have to see the tapes. “You know, if there were NFL officials there and they watched, we could be ousted from the Lauchtenland game.”
Zach held his tea in the palm of his hand like it might be a bowl. “Same for your man Hud.”
“He’s not my man.”
“He barged into the officials’ locker room like he was on fire. Wouldn’t even wait to take the Uber to the hospital.” He set down his tea, and his phone buzzed in his pocket. “My Uber is here. I gotta go. I’m on a flight back to Amsterdam in an hour. You going to be okay?”
“Yeah.”
He walked over to her. Crouched in front of her. “You call me if you need anything.”
“I got this.”
