I look up to see Damon in the doorway, having gone back to the hotel himself to shower and change. He stayed by my side all night, as we waited, hoped for him to wake up.
Everyone was hoping he’d wake.
The team even delayed their departure to Texas, wanting word of his condition before they headed off for their next game.
Word I couldn’t give them.
Because he hasn’t woken up.
“I’m fine,” I tell my brother.
“His parents?” Damon asks.
We called them a half-dozen times, but they haven’t responded.
Meanwhile, I’ve been in contact with Blake all night.
He was watching the game, was just as worried as I was—as I am.
I shake my head. “No, they still haven’t returned my calls.”
“Blake still worried?” he asks.
I nod. “I think we’re all worried.”
Damon comes over, settles his hand on my shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”
“How do you know?”
The ghost of a smile, a tug of my ponytail. “Because he finally has what he’s been wanting for years. Hell, if the man will give up now.”
“I’m not sure?—”
“He’ll be good, Ky. I’ll hang here while you shower and catch a couple hours sleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Then food,” he says. “You at least need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Damon’s fingers tighten on my shoulder. “Kylie,” he begins.
“You need to rest.”
But it’s not my brother’s voice that’s trying to order me around. It’s?—
“Colt!” I exclaim, bending toward him, taking his hand in mine. “You’re awake!”
He winces and tries to sit up but I stay him with a palm on his uninjured shoulder.
“Easy,” I murmur. “You’re hurt, honey.”
“Fuck,” he groans. “No kidding. What happened? Last thing I remember is Lake scoring and then—” He slips his hand from mine, fingers going to the edge of the bandage on the side of his head.
“You got a bit of a haircut…and thirty-two stitches.”
He touches the bandage, slowly tracing around the outside of it. “Jesus, some haircut.”
