5
Noah
“Spencer! What’s your lazy ass doing laying around when we’ve got a game this Thursday night?” Coach bellowed as he stalked into my hospital room, and I winced slightly, imagining that other patients up and down the hallway were wondering who’d let a bull moose loose in the hospital.
“Sorry, Coach. Looks like I’ll have to sit out Thursday night’s game, but I hope I’ll be back on the field in the next couple of weeks.” I answered him with as much confidence as I could muster, even knowing all the while that it was mostly bravado. There was no way I’d be playing football for at least a couple of months. If we managed to get into postseason play, there was maybe a chance I’d be ready to go back, but for now, my doctor was making no promises.
“Yeah, so I hear.” Coach crossed his arms over his chest and glowered. “That hit got you good. Cruyholder, the guy who took you down—he’s been mea culpaing all over the fucking place since Sunday.” He shrugged. “Not that there was anything he could’ve done different. It was just an unlucky hit.”
“I guess.” I cleared my throat and pushed myself up to sit a little straighter in the bed. “Uh, Coach, you know—I’m going to beat this. I’ll do the work and the PT and everything I have to so that I can be back as soon as I can. I promise.”
Coach ducked his head. “I know you’ll do your best, kid. Let’s take it one day at a time, okay? For now, once you’re released and the doctor clears you to move around a little, we’ll have you at the games on the sidelines. You can be there to support your teammates.”
“Of course, sir.” I nodded. “But . . . I’m coming back. Right? Because I’ve got to.” A bubble of desperate worry filled my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. “Football is everything. You know that. If I couldn’t play—” I didn’t even want to think about what my life would be like without the game. “Since Ang—when I lost her, football was the only thing left for me. I’m not going to lose that, too. No fucking way.”
“Hey, hey. Calm down. No one’s saying nothing yet. But you’re going to do this smart. You’re going to listen to your doctors, and you’re going to do exactly what they say. You’re going to put in the work, like you said. You’re going to show up at practices and games, cheer on the guys.” What looked like wicked amusement passed over Coach’s face. “Look at it this way. Now you’ll have plenty of time to keep your eye on Juliet Connors, right?”
I groaned. “You’re not going to hold me to that, are you? Look, sir, I did my best. I helped her find a place to live. I’ve leaned on the guys and told them not to fuck around with her, not even to flirt or tease. I’ve taken her to dinner or lunch a couple of times, just to make sure she’s settling in. She seems like she’s happy and . . . uh, well-adjusted. She doesn’t need me.”
“Beg to differ, Spencer. I caught Julunkski trying to make time with her the other day—acting real slick, like butter wouldn’t melt on him. Without you there, those morons will have a field day.” His brow furrowed. “Maybe I’ll have her pick you up for practice and drive you in to the stadium. She should work with you on your diet, too, while you’re recovering. Make sure you don’t put on too much weight when you’re on your back.”
“I think I know how to eat well,” I muttered. The idea of spending hours with Juliet did not excite me. She was a sweet girl, and she meant well, but she was also headstrong, used to getting her own way, and more than a little spoiled. Add to that the fact that we didn’t have much if anything in common, and it was a recipe for frustration and irritation, two things I didn’t need more of in my life.
“Just play nice, Spencer.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta go, but you keep us informed about what’s happening, hear? I’ll see you at the stadium when I see you.”
Coach left as abruptly as he’d appeared. I let my head drop back and blew out a huff of breath. The fact that he hadn’t assured me I’d be back on the field left me jittery. Did he know something I didn’t? What weren’t they telling me?
I opened my eyes and glared at my knee, still swollen and angry looking after the surgery. “Son of a bitch,” I growled. “You’re gonna heal, because I refuse to accept any other option.”
* * *
Coach must’ve decidedI looked bored in that bed, because around dinner time that same day, I heard the click of fast-moving heels approaching my room, and before I had time to mentally prepare, Juliet was there in my room, talking a mile a minute.
“Oh, myGod,Noah, I am so sorry about what happened to you.” She dropped the basket she was carrying on my bedside table and threw her arms around my chest. “When I saw that hit, I thought I was going to pass out. I’m not even lying, I was up there in the VIP box, and I saw it and said to my girlfriend—she flew down from New York to spend the week with me—I said, ‘I think I’m going to faint or puke.’”
“Hey, Juliet.” I managed to slip a greeting in there. “Yeah, I know what you mean. To tell the truth, I did both when it happened.”
“Oh, I’m sure. It must have been so scary. I wanted to leave right then and head for the hospital, but no one would tell me where you were going, and everyone I asked said it was better for me to stay out of the way at least at first. But as soon as Coach Briars gave me the green light today, I whipped up a batch of blueberry muffins and drove over as fast as my little GTO could drive me!” She smiled, cocking her head in a way that probably rendered lesser men speechless with delight. It didn’t have any effect on me.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No thanks necessary. Here, let me get one for you.” She flicked back one corner of the cloth napkin that covered the basket and lifted out one large muffin. “Do you like butter on your muffins? I can see if they have any around here. Want me to go to the desk and ask the nurse?”
“No, no, thanks.” I put up one hand and shook my head. “I’m not hungry right now. Just leave them there, please, and I’ll enjoy them later.”
“Oh.” Juliet looked momentarily deflated, but she recovered quickly. “So Coach said he talked to you about me helping with your diet while you’re recovering. I’m going to do some research and come up with the best eating plan possible. I’ll even try to talk to your doctors and see if they have any recommendations.”
“Seriously, Juliet, that’s really sweet of you to offer, but I think I’ve got it covered. I’ll do what my doctors tell me. I don’t need any other input.”
She was silent for a long moment, and I thought with just the barest twinge of guilt that I’d hurt her feelings. But then she dragged a chair over to sit down next to my bed, gazing up into my eyes.
“Noah, I thought we’d gotten past this. I know I can come off like someone who doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but I told you before—I do. I’m good at my job.” She sighed. “I came in here today like Mary Sunshine because Coach told me you needed cheering up, and in my experience, having a pretty girl make a fuss over them makes men cheerier. I guess it didn’t work with you.”
“I appreciate the effort, but right now, the only thing that’s going to make me smile is getting out of here and finding out how long it’ll be until I’m back on the field. So thanks, but seriously, I’m better off by myself for the time being.”
She nodded. “All right. But maybe I can be part of getting you back there sooner. It’s not just PT and willpower that’ll help heal your body—you need protein and the right kind of carbs and fats. You might need some supplements, too.” She leaned up and touched my hand. “Let me help you. It’s my job, you know. Plus, I thought we were friends, and this is the least I’d do for any of my friends.”
I gave up. It was easier than going around and round with her, and I was too tired to be obstinate any longer. “Fine. Do your thing, send me your plan, and I’ll see what I think.”
“Thank you, Noah.” Her grin was just slightly triumphant, and I tried not to let that annoy me even more. “And now, because Coach told me not to wear you out, I’m going to scoot.” She pointed to the basket. “Enjoy your muffins—they’re good for you. And don’t worry about returning the basket. I’ll swing by and pick it up after you’re back home.” She came nearer to the bed and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “Get well soon.”
“Thanks for coming by, Juliet.” I managed a smile and wave as she left. I knew she meant well, but I wasn’t in the frame of mind to be magnanimous—and I hated blueberry muffins. They were my least favorite type of muffin.
Out of nowhere, I thought of Alison Wakely and our long talk the day I’d been abandoned in the ER. I had a feeling she wasn’t the kind of woman to bake muffins. There was a certain intensity to her—but at the same time, a peaceful sort of restfulness, as though she was comfortable in her own skin. Whereas Juliet exhausted me, Alison intrigued me.
Not that I needed either kind of female in my life. I hadn’t been exaggerating to Coach. Without football—the team, the work, the rhythm of my life as a player—I wasn’t sure what I had left.
And I had no intention of finding out.
