“Hayes. What’s wrong?”
There’s a long pause, and I’m fearing the worst.
He’s the most responsible one on the team. I count on him to keep the guys in line when I’m not around, but I remember the day I found him in the locker room when his mom passed away. The blank stare he gave me when I helped him to his feet and the way he crumbled in my arms.
I hope to god nothing happened to his dad.
“Riley,” he says.
“Riley? Riley Mitchell?” I ask, mentioning my star defenseman.
“He was in an accident.”
“What do you mean an accident?”
“A car accident,” Hudson says, and my knees buckle.
“What?” I collapse to the ground, a hand over my mouth. My heart stops beating. “When? How?”
“In his Uber on the way home from the club. The driver called Maverick and—” There’s a wail from his side of the phone, and my body moves without me directing it. I stand and fumble with my clothes, grabbing anything I can find. “They aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”
“Where are you?” I put on my shirt and yank my jeans up my legs. I’m trying not to panic, but bile creeps its way up my throat. My head pounds, excruciating pain radiating across my temples. “I need a hospital name, Hudson.”
“MedStar. Georgetown. We just got here and?—”
“Be there in twenty.”
I hang up. Silence hangs in the room, and I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.
“Brody?” Hannah touches my shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Riley was in an accident.” My voice is flat, monotone. I lift my chin to look at her, the hazy outline of her shape blurred by my tears. “They aren’t sure if he’s going to make it.”
“Oh my god.” She scrambles to grab a blanket, wrapping it around her body. “Is he—of course he’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”
Guilt grips me so tight, I struggle to breathe.
I want to ask how the fuck I missed their earlier calls. I want to figure out why I didn’t hear the phone ring the other five times, but the answer is obvious. I was too distracted. Too caught up in Hannah and ignoring my responsibilities when I should’ve stayed at the club. I should’ve been the one to make sure all my guys got home safe, but I left the second a beautiful woman gave me her attention.
I gave in too quickly. I acted too stupidly, and now one of my players is in a hospital fighting for his life.
I should’ve been there to answer the fucking phone.
I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve told Riley to wait and take a different car.I could’ve fucking driven him.
“I need to get to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“It’s better if you don’t.” I’m numb. The room is spinning. “There would be questions about why we’re there together. Questions I don’t want to answer.”
“Can I do anything to help?” she whispers.
“No.” I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, only stopping to look back at her when I reach her bedroom door. The pain magnifies when I notice the hurt on her face, the twist of her lips from my rejection. I’m not a believer in divine intervention or fate or any of that other cosmic bullshit, but this seems like a big fucking sign from the universe that I need to stay the hell away from her. My guilt turns to regret, to disappointment in myself when I shake my head. When I roll my shoulders back and say, “I got caught up in the moment tonight, and we need to forget it ever happened. I was never here. We never spent any time together. We left the club separately, and I didn’t?—”
“Get me off and have your first night of fun in months?”
“Yes.” I blow out a breath. I hate how easily she can read me. “That.”
