“Baird, can you hear me?” the other asked, leaning over him. “Baird?”
“We need to get him into an ambulance now,” the first medic said urgently.
“Fuck.” John gripped my arm tighter.
I couldn’t speak.
I could only watch in absolute terror as they loaded my best mate onto a stretcher and carried him off the pitch.
“Match is cancelled,” the gaffer was saying. “Keen, John, you want to follow the ambulance?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll drive.” John tugged on my arm. “Callan, we gotta go.”
Nodding numbly, I followed him off the pitch and for the first time in my career, instead of walking off to the roar of cheers or chanting, I walked off the pitch to the stunned, hushed silence of thousands of football fans.
BETH
Ainsley was a frantic, sobbing mess as we found our way to security to identify her as Baird’s sister.
I was still in shock at witnessing the horrific accident, at realizing Baird was not getting back up. The other player had awoken and had been helped off the pitch by his teammates.
My focus had turned to Callan. He was facing our stands, and I could see his blank expression as he stood over Baird. Unmoving. Frozen.
Detaching?
Baird’s large body was moved carefully onto a stretcher, and I had a sneaking suspicion such care was taken because they were worried about his spine.
I was terrified for him. For Ainsley.
For Callan.
And selfishly, for me.
I was afraid this would cause Callan to shut down. If anything happened to Baird …
I clutched Ainsley’s hand tight as she went from crying to yelling at the security guard for not helping her. He refused to provide her with any information. But then someone approached him, a man in a shirt and suit trousers. “Ainsley McMillan?”
“Aye, where’s my brother? Where are you taking him?”
“They’re taking him to the Western General. He’s already on his way. Do you have transportation?”
“We were supposed to get a lift from my boyfriend. Callan Keen,” I said.
He nodded grimly. “Mr. Keen went with the ambulance. We’ll arrange a taxi for you. Come this way.”
By the time the man who never introduced himself got us out of the stadium, bypassing all the devastated fans who were the most subdued I’d ever seen them, a taxi was already waiting for us. We got in and out before stadium traffic became a problem, and I tried calling Callan.
“Maybe he doesn’t have his phone,” I murmured when he didn’t pick up for the fifth time.
Ainsley nodded, silent tears tracking down her face.
I grabbed her hand. “He’ll be okay. He’s going to be okay.”
She sobbed quietly. “I-I-I n-need to call my mum. She’s w-working. She p-probably wasn’t w-watching the m-match.”
“Give me your phone, babe. I’ll call her for you.”
Ainsley gratefully handed me her phone and brought up her contacts. I hitMum, my stomach flipping.
