August and his teammate Kenan, the one they call Glad, go up for the rebound at the same time. Kenan is huge, a little taller than August. He’s several inches wider and thicker.
His elbow slams into August’s forehead at full force. With dread building in my belly, I watch August fall to the hardwood and stay there unconscious for several seconds.
“Oh my God, get up.” My insides knot. “Please, baby, get up.”
I don’t even question the endearment when it slips naturally out of my heart and past my lips. I’ve been fooling myself, guarding my heart with a porous shield, and August slipped right in.
His eyes open groggily and he tries to sit up, but his hand starts shaking violently, and he collapses back to the floor.
I cover my mouth and ball my fist up over my heart.
“He’s gonna be okay,” Lo assures me. “Look. He’s getting up.”
Correction. Kenan is pulling him up, and someone is walking him off the floor. He gives a little wave to the crowd and stumbles into the tunnel.
They show the play over and over again, and every time, I hurt a little more. I think about everything I told Lo, and it’s all true. I am afraid of how Caleb will respond when he finds out about August and me. The fears I hoped to leave behind still wake me at night drenched in a cold sweat. Seeing August go down like that, though, and not knowing how bad it is puts everything in perspective. Every day that we’re living, breathing, and in good health is a blessing, not promised. Understanding that, seeing him get hurt, makes me realize that I don’t want to go slow after all.
Not anymore.
August
Damn,my head hurts.
That’s what happens when Jolly the Big Ass Giant elbows you in the head.
My own teammate sidelined me. Not that it was Kenan’s fault. We were both going after the rebound and collided. He feels like shit and will probably come by as soon as the game is over. I’d love to be gone before then, but it’s not happening. “Concussion” is never anybody’s favorite word. I don’t need to be in the hospital, but I get it. When your whole body’s insured and a team pays you millions, they tend to take precautions. That doesn’t mean I’m not ready to go home.
I check my phone. No calls from Iris. Maybe she doesn’t know. Maybe she wasn’t watching the game. Or maybe she and Lotus, who’s visiting from New York, took Sarai to that park up the street. My finger is poised over her contact when the nurse pokes her head in.
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. West.”
“No problem.” I force a smile. “What’s up?”
“You have a visitor,” she says with a grin. “A pretty brunette.”
My heartbeat picks up, but I try not to look all overeager and shit. “Please send her in.”
I adjust the bed to a sitting position as the door eases open and a dark head peeks in. But the hair isn’t long and hanging in thick coils. It’s a bone-straight bob, and her golden skin glows from her afternoon tennis practice.
“Pippa,” I say, my tone flat and disappointed even to my own ears. “Come on in.”
“Don’t sound so happy to see me.” Pippa walks in and sits on the bed beside me.
“Sorry.” I rearrange my features into a pleased expression, though my face feels like wax. “Just the concussion probably.”
“I know.” She takes my hand and scoots a little closer on the hospital bed. “I saw.”
“I didn’t realize you were here in San Diego.” I want to pull my hand back, but I’ll give her a few minutes. Wearefriends.
“I was meeting with the team at Elevation.” She smiles brightly. “I’m signing.”
“That’s awesome.” I squeeze her hand. “Jared and company will take care of you.”
“And what about you?” Her voice drops, taking on a husky tone. “Will you take care of me, too?”
“Uh . . .” Is there a diplomatic way to say hell no?
“I’m here for the rest of the week. Maybe we can get together before I leave.”
