“Yeah, I smashed your skull in with my elbow! You don’t need to be Mr. Tough Guy right now,” Rebecca croaks.
One look at Rebecca’s face is all it takes to get Andrew to settle back down to the ground. “Fine, but I guarantee you a doctor won’t tell you anything I can’t already tell you. I’m fine.”
Mr. and Mrs. Martin join us in the waiting room as Andrew gets checked out. They’ve been grilling Rebecca and me with lots of questions since they arrived, but they’ve finally quieted down. Now we all just sit in anticipation of the doctor’s opinion.
Andrew steps out of the doors with a piece of paper in hand. He holds it up. “The doctor said it looks like a concussion, but I should be fine. She said to monitor for nausea or memory loss and to expect headaches and trouble concentrating or reading.” He frowns. “No working out for a little while, and I’ll check back in with the doctor in a week.”
Mr. and Mrs. Martin nod vigorously. “Maybe I should go talk to the doctor myself.” Mrs. Martin eagerly begins walking toward the doors Andrew just came through.
He grabs her by the arm holding her back. “It’s all right here, Mom. She even gave me a number to call just in case. If you really feel the need to talk to her, you can call her when we get home.”
The tension in her shoulders visibly releases.
We begin to walk out to our cars, and it’s then that Andrew seems to notice I’m here. He does a double take. “You didn’t have to stay here and wait, Em. Did no one offer to drive you home? It’s been a couple hours. Do your parents know you’re here? You probably missed dinner.” His words spiral in concern, and I’m incredibly impressed he’s able to recognize and process all of this information after what just happened.
I wrap one arm around him in a half hug as we continue through the parking lot. “I just wanted to know you’re okay, Andrew. I texted my parents I was here, and I’ll just eat leftovers when I get home.”
He turns to Rebecca. “Can we stop for some food on the way back?”
She nods anxiously. I can tell she’s still flooded with guilt. “Yeah, whatever you want! Are you hungry? We can pick up a pizza or sandwiches.”
Andrew swivels in my direction. “What do you want, Em?”
I wave my hands out in front of me. “I’m not hungry. I can wait till we get home. It’s not that far.”
Andrew furrows his brows. “It’s after eight o’clock, and you haven’t had dinner yet. I know you’re starving. Let’s get some food.” He assesses me. “I’m going to say you’re in a pizza mood. Who am I kidding? You’re always in a pizza mood!” The smile spreading on my face gives me away.
Rebecca hops in the driver’s seat, and he places his hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the bench seat of his truck. “There’s a Domino’s close by. We can order it now and it should be ready by the time we get there,” he insists.
My stomach growls, and he meets my eyes with a knowing look. I have no choice but to let him take care of me, even though the roles should be reversed after today’s events.
The pizza is really good though, and Andrew was right; I’m always in a pizza mood.
CHAPTER 24
Summer 19
As we round the corner onto our street at the end of our run, I turn to Andrew and excitedly shout, “I’ll race you to your house!”
I begin to take off, but he hollers back at me from behind. “Wait! No!” He gasps for air between words. “That’s not fair. Get back here. Besides, I’m much too tired to—” My pace falters a little, but as soon as he catches up with me, he takes off at a sprint. I should’ve known better than to trust Mr. Track Star!
I push off and try to catch up. We reach his driveway, and I’m only a pace or two behind him. “You are such a cheater!” I shove him as a smile spreads across my face.
“What do you want to do with the rest of the day? We are supposed to have thunderstorms this afternoon.” Andrew glances up at the sky. “It looks like the dark clouds are already rolling in.”
“I think we should sign up for the race today. It’s already almost the end of July. The race is in two weeks.”
He groans. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’m in good enough shape.”
“You just ran five miles with me. The race is only a 5K. That’s barely over three miles,” I argue.
He gives me a very serious look. “The mud adds at least three miles to the distance of the race. Everyone knows that.”
“Oh, is that so?” I inquire, glaring at him and trying hard not to let through the smile that’s attempting to creep onto my face.
He nods matter of fact, and my face betrays me as that dang smile shines through. As if that isn’t enough, a giggle slips out too.
He swoops me up into his arms and twirls me around for a second, and my laughter grows. I watch as his face goes from very serious to filled with elation in less than a second.
