“Tell Coach Carpenter it’s safe for you to be with me,” I encourage.
“I’d never,neverhurt you. I won’t leave you again. Bad only happens when I’m gone. I won’t be gone again,” he insists, his voice starting to break.
It takes time, but I manage to get him to an office. It’s not mine since we’re at the stadium, but it’s private.
Jax hands tremble as he tries to stop me from taking off his helmet, then his mouth guard, and his jersey, but I ask him to be sweet and he just… stops. He might as well be a doll.
Once he’s down to just his tight pants and his shoes, my fingers trail over his body, following the lines of his tattoos.
“Are you with me?” I ask.
He nods, then winces.
“Who am I, Jaxon?” I ask sharply. “Who are you seeing right now?”
“Y-you’re Hope,” he finally says. It’s like all the fight is gone and he can’t hold on anymore.
He collapses into the chair and I stay close. My eyes catch something hidden between the dark lines on his chest. And my breath hitches.
H—tattooed right on the spot where I have his initials carved into my skin. How can I never have noticed before?
He shakes his head. “What the fuck is wrong with me! I don’t… I was on the field. There was a dirty tackle and then… then yelling and Daisy and…”
I blink away the tears and push back at the emotions swirling inside me. “Tell me all about it, but I need to look at you, Jax,” I breathe.
He keeps mumbling about Daisy being there, about the note, about having to protect her, to prove he can. He’s supposed to be enough. I catch occasional words, like “call” and “late” and “protect,” but it doesn’t really make sense and I’m more focused on the fact he has a concussion.
“Hope?” he asks weakly.
I check my phone. Nothing from the guys. Then again, they are still playing. “You’re going to come with me, okay?”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
I keep his hand and lead him to the girls’ locker room. I motion for the shower and he gets through one. I sneak into the men’s locker room and get Jax’s clothes. When I get back, he’s still under the hot water. I don’t want to walk in. He’s not exactly predictable.
“How do you feel?”
“Like a fucking idiot. Nauseous as hell. My head hurts. My back hurts. I shouldn’t have… I know you’re not…”
“It’s partially the concussion. The medic shouldn’t have let you play. I’ll be dealing with that,” I say darkly.
“How… How are you, Hope? Really?”
His voice is raw, like he’s been skinned alive but is trying to hold it together. I know he’s not ready to talk about where his mind was. He hasn’t pushed me. He teases me. He holds me. He deals with the nightmare without making me explain them. I want to give him the same.
“I’m really worried about you. Other than that… I’m scared of what’s going on. I know you guys aren’t telling me something and I know it has to do with…him. But right now, that doesn’t matter.”
Jaxon steps out and I catch my eyes before they dip below his belly button, then hand him a towel. He wraps it around his waist. “I’m fine.”
“Turn around and let me confirm that, please.”
“You pulled me out of the game,” he says even as he obeys.
I touch a few spots on his back. He flinches slightly. I have him bend in a few ways and I’m pretty sure he has a strained muscle, at best. It means ideally no sitting, considering where it is, but I’m going to insist on x-rays to make sure that’s all it is.
“Hope, why did you—”
“Because I like you in one piece, Jaxon. Call me selfish for wanting you strong and capable and here with me. Call me greedy for wanting all three of you knowing you can protect me as easily as you can manhandle me. I don’t want you hurting or punishing yourself or worse than you already are and—and—it just so happens to be my job.”
