DEVON
LEILA'S DRIVING LIKE she wants to lose her license, and I'm the panicking passenger who forgot how to breathe.
"Can you go faster?" I ask, gripping the door handle so hard I might rip it off.
"I'm already going twenty over the speed limit."
"Make it thirty."
"Devon—"
"Please."
She presses harder on the gas, and I love her for it.
The sound of a phone buzzing breaks from her pocket. She fishes it out, glances at the screen, and passes it to me. "Put him on speaker."
It takes me three tries to hit accept, my fingers shaking so much.
"Talk to me," Leila directs the second the line connects, while I all but shout, "Is he okay?" at the same time.
"He's awake," Washington says, and I can breathe again. Sort of. "They took him to Northwestern Memorial. We're all heading there now."
"But whathappened?" I demand. "He was fine. He scored three goals. He wasfine!"
There's a pause on the other end, voices in the background, and then Washington says, "Most likely a concussion."
The words don't make sense. "A what?"
"Concussion. From the hit. He played through it."
My brain stutters to a halt. "He played—he playedhalf the gamewith a concussion?"
"Apparently."
"That's—that's insane! That's—" I'm spiraling now, hands shaking, nausea rolling through me in waves. "Is he going to be okay? Like, permanently okay? Brain damage is permanent, right? Oh my God, does he have brain damage? Can he still—"
"Devon." Washington's voice is firm, cutting through my panic. "He's going to be fine. He's getting checked out. The doctors know what they're doing."
"But—"
"We'll be there in ten minutes," Leila chimes in. "Just breathe, Devon."
"Copy," Washington says and ends the call. I stare at the screen like it's betrayed me.
"He's going to be fine," Leila says, weaving through traffic like a professional stunt driver.
"You don't know that."
"I do know that. My husband wouldn't lie."
"He might. To make me feel better."
"Devon."
"What if he's not fine? What if—"
"Stop." She glances at me, just for a second, before her eyes are back on the road. "He's awake. He's talking. Those are good signs."
