No. I couldn’t think it. Not after losing Mom.
Then his arm came up, waving them back and the relief made my eyes fill up.
But they didn’t let him stand. A few minutes later, they lifted him, fully supine, on a spinal board.
“Anna, breathe. It’s probably just a precaution.” Brooklyn slipped her arm around my waist. Which was good since my knees were shaking.
For the first time since "Rocky Top,” no one was focused on me. Every single player, coach, fan, and reporter were focused on Blue.
Cleats clicked rapid-fire against the concrete walkway and we all turned to see one of the football players jogging toward us. Number 20. The guy who’d run the last touchdown in. He was super tall. Even taller than Ash. His dark blond hair was matted with sweat. He came to a stop in front of us, eyes a little wild. Tally let out a swoony-gasp from down the row. If my heart hadn’t been in my throat and my nerves a live wire, I would’ve teased her about it.
His gaze skittered between me and Ash. For a split second I could see a question in his face, as if wondering whether we were a couple. But then he looked back at me, not seeming to care if we were or we weren’t. “Anna, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Is Blue okay?”
“I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. “They’re taking him to the hospital. But he was asking for you. Calling your name.” He jammed his hands into his hair. “And then he passed out,” he said so low I almost didn’t catch it. Then louder, “Can you come with me? To the hospital? I think he’d like you there.”
I nodded, my heart sprinting. “Yeah. Of course.”
I unzipped my purse, found the key to Stella, and handed it to Ash. “I’ll text you as soon as I know something.”
“Okay.” He squeezed my hand. “We’ll head for the car. See you in a few minutes.”
I jogged behind Blue’s teammate, trying to keep up with his long legs. The person guarding the gate had it open, ready for us. I followed Number 20, taking those stairs for the third time today, this time much faster. Once on the grass, we cut a hard right straight into a tunnel that led beneath the stadium. Our footsteps echoed off the concrete walls, down a hallway that seemed to go on forever.
“Sorry, I have to grab my keys,” the guy said over his shoulder. “I’m Madden, by the way.” He gestured to a fancy leather bench. “I’ll just be a second.” Then he walked into a room and the door eased shut behind him.
But I couldn’t sit. Not with Blue on the way to the hospital. Two minutes later Madden was back.
“You ready?” he asked, now wearing sweats, a Knoxville T-shirt, and tennis shoes.
“Yeah.”
“So, you’re the famous Anna,” he said as we jogged back up the hallway.
“Famous?” I faked an easy laugh. “Blue told you about me?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. A lot.”
What did that mean?
Madden pulled his phone from his pocket. “Okay. It looks like they’re taking him to Knoxville Memorial, in case you want to let your boyfriend know.”
“The guy I was standing with?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my uncle.”
He chuckled again. “Okay. You just…you don’t look anything like him so I kind of assumed.”
“Well, my momma always said you should never assume. It makes an…well, you know.”
He laughed again. “Yes. I do. So, no boyfriend then?”
“Oh, I have a boyfriend.” I sighed. “At least, I did before this game started.”
He grinned. “’Nuff said.”
