It was almost funny, in a sick way.
Suddenly, June was there in front of me. I could only see her feet, but I recognized the Hoka shoes she always wore on game days, when she had to stand for long periods of time. I wanted to wave her away, to insist that she go somewhere else. I didn’t want her to watch me die, to have that image forever burned into her memory.
She yanked my shorts down, then stabbed an EpiPen into the outer part of my thigh.
The effect was immediate; my throat opened a tiny fraction, allowing me to breathe. Just a little bit, but enough that I wasn’t going to lose consciousness. And it was getting better with every passing second.
I collapsed forward, my head resting in her lap. She was making cooing noises as she gently stroked my forehead.
“You’re all right,” she whispered. “I got you, Cole. I got you.”
29
June
Five of us were standing around an examination table in my trainer’s room. Everyone had their arms crossed and looked concerned… except for Cole, who was sitting on the examination table with a frustrated expression.
“I don’t see the need to go public with this,” the Reapers’ marketing guy said. “Players are scratched at the last minute all the time. We can say he has the flu.”
I glanced at the TV mounted on the wall. The game had started ten minutes ago, and the crowd noise hummed through the walls of the arena like a distant thunderstorm.
“I’m fine,” Cole insisted stubbornly. “Give me ten minutes to warm-up, and I can start the second period.”
He hopped off the table, but his legs wobbled and he had to grab onto the team medic to keep his balance.
“I would highly recommendagainstthat,” the medic said. “You were given a high dose of epinephrine. For the next few hours, it’s normal for you to experience nausea, dizziness, and heart palpitations.”
“How about you sit this one out,” one of the assistant coaches said.
Cole’s face twisted in anger. “Fucking try and stop me, eh?” But he didn’t make an effort to push through us.
The medic turned to me. “You’re the head trainer. It’s your call.”
Damnit. Why did I have to be the bad guy?
“You’re sitting out,” I said, allowing a trickle of authority into my tone. “Even if youareable to play two periods, you won’t be at a hundred percent. And as the captain of the team, you ought to set a good example for the other players.”
Cole glared at me but didn’t put up any more of a fight. That made me feel better.
“Great job rushing into action,” the medic told me. “Good thing you knew about his peanut allergy.”
“Yeah, he told me… a while ago,” I said. I couldn’t explain that I learned about it on our date.
“The caterer knows about my allergy,” Cole said. “Everything they provide is peanut free.”
“It’s been that way for years,” the assistant coach confirmed.
“What did you eat before it happened?” I asked.
“Same thing I always eat. Some crackers and pieces of cheese. And a few cookies.”
“We really let men get away with too much,” I said with a chuckle. “Everyone jokes aboutgirl dinner, but your boy dinner is a lot more embarrassing.”
“I know what my body needs before a game,” Cole said defensively.
“Clearly not,” the medic said.
Cole glared at him. “I eat the same thing before every game. I didn’t try anything new today.”
