Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
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 done either 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.
“Hey, you.” I sigh, resting back against the table. I can see the tearstained streaks on her cheeks, her eyes are hazy with tears, and her face and neck are blotchy, but to me, she’s never looked more beautiful.
“I need to see you,” she says. “I need to be there.” Her eyes roam over what she can see of me in the camera, looking for injuries. “Are you okay?” She places her hand over her mouth, but it wasn’t soon enough. I saw the quiver of her lips as tears well in her eyes. “Tell me you’re okay,” she whispers.
“I’m okay,” I assure her. I wish I could reach out and slide my arms around her waist. I need to hold her next to me. “Just a mild concussion.”
“Just?” she scoffs. “That’s serious, Brock Williams,” she scolds.
“I know, baby, but I’m going to be just fine.”
She ignores me. “Have you seen the doctor?” she asks. “What are they saying?”
“I have seen.” I turn the phone so that she can see Dr. Stern.
“Tell me what he needs to do and not do. I’ll make sure it happens.”
Relief washes over me. She’s not leaving me, not yet at least. She’s going to stay and make sure I’m okay. That counts for something, right? That means that she still loves me, and she’s not going to hold this media shitstorm against me. Not that I did anything wrong, but it is my career that had the press seeking me out, and more than likely her mother too. Then again, it could just be the twisted fuck that she is, and she wants what her daughter has. I use the word mother lightly. More like an egg donor.
It’s not until Dr. Stern stops talking and I hear her sweet voice again that I will myself to focus on their conversation. “I’ll be with him,” she tells Dr. Stern. “I’ll check on him regularly and make sure he doesn’t start any of this for forty-eight hours.”