She gives Coop an aggrieved look, and he grins like they’re sharing an inside joke, which only pisses me off more.
“This is exactly what’s wrong with healthcare in America.” I huff out a breath and gesture to the overflowing waiting area.
The nurse sighs. “I’ll let you know when a doctor can see you.”
“Thank you,” Cooper says, pulling me toward the waiting area.
“Fine,” I call over my shoulder. “But if Waverly’s star wide receiver dies in your waiting room, it’s not my fault!”
Coop snorts and shakes his head. “It’s just a scratch, Quinn. I don’t have a concussion.”
“Well, if you do, it’ll probably be healed by the time you see a doctor.”
He gestures to two empty chairs by the door and I follow his lead.
“I’ve had concussions before,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I’d definitely know if I had one.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you’d besoforthcoming about it too.” I flop down in the left chair and cross my arms. Coop might be able to charm the nurse, but I’m not falling for it. God knows one of us needs to act like a responsible adult here. “Should I call your parents and let them know what’s going on?” I straighten, dread curling low in my stomach as I turn to him. “Are they in town?”
I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. It’s homecoming. College Park is overflowing with alumni. And Coop is on the freaking football team.
“They aren’t here,” he says, voice flat. “I reserved a room at The Inn, but…”
They bailed. He doesn’t have to say the words to get his point across.
His earlier comment comes back to me, and I remember the look on his face as he talked about his father’s re-election campaign. Maybe the senator isn’t a family man or maybe he’s a workaholic, giving everything to his constituents and leaving nothing for his son, but whatever the case, it’s obvious from Coop’s shuttered gaze he doesn’t want to talk about it.
I’m curious as hell, but the least I can do is respect his wishes.
After all, he wouldn’t be in the ER if it weren’t for me.
“Probably for the best.” I nod slowly. “Can you imagine explaining this to them?” I sure as hell can’t. “The prospect facing Wildcat Nation is terrifying enough. If the doc benches you, I’ll be flayed online.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Now you’re just being dramatic.”
I’m really not.
“Clearly you haven’t been following the news on Spellman.” I lift my chin even as panic takes root. Spellman is the Wildcats’ starting kicker. Or he was until he got hurt and Carter replaced him. “The media hasn’t exactly been kind to the woman they say is responsible for his injury.”
The commentary has been brutal.
I’d never hold up under that kind of pressure.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t responsible for my current condition,” Coop says smoothly.
I snort because we both know that’s a big fat lie.
“This is on me.” He gestures to his bloody forehead. “I’m the one who forgot to bring Starlight Twinkle for good luck.”
Before I can even unpack that statement, Coop’s name is called, and he’s ushered through a pair of greige automatic doors, leaving me open-mouthed in the waiting area.
27
COOPER
The nurse leadsme to a sterile gray exam room that smells like disinfectant and despair. The lights are too bright and the exam table too small. My legs dangle uncomfortably over the end as she takes my vitals and grills me on my unremarkable medical history. Once she’s done, I’m left alone to wait for the doc, which is just as boring as it sounds.
Talk about anticlimactic.
