Despite the goose egg that is developing on my forehead and the grade-A headache I have, I love how caring and protective Aiden is being right now.
“They’re hard as a rock when they go into this state,” Wyatt says, staring down at the iguanas. “I’ve never seen anyone get hit by one, though.”
My head is throbbing, and I try to shake the cobwebs out, but Wyatt isn’t making sense to me. “State? They’re dead. And why are dead iguanas falling on me?”
“Baby, they’re not dead,” Aiden says, brushing my hair back from my face. “They’refrozen. This is the first time I’ve seen it happen in real life.”
I stare at him. “Aiden, no. They’redead. Look at them! Their eyeballs aren’t even moving!”
“No,” Wyatt says. “They go into shock when it gets cold. They’re paralyzed, but they’ll recover. Don’t touch them.”
“Wait … I was hit by aparalyzediguana?”
“Apparently so,” Aiden says, absently stroking my hair. He looks at me with confusion. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me this morning you were coming to practice.”
“Surprising you, but not in the way I had planned,” I say, a wry smile forming on my lips. “I was coming to take pictures. And secretly watch you.”
Suddenly there’s the sound of a car approaching. I look over and see it’s my dad. He puts the car in park and jumps out, his face full of shock and concern. “Scarlett?What is going on here?” he barks.
Aiden rips his hand way from my head. I look at my dad, who is such an intimidating figure. He’s in shape, a former star player, and his dark hair has more gray than black in it now. Dad also has the same eyes as me.
And now those piercing blue eyes are lasered in on the scene in front of him.
“Scarlett got hit in the head by an iguana,” Wyatt says, jumping in with an explanation.
Dad’s eyes scan the field of debris around me: two frozen iguanas, matcha that has exploded all over the sidewalk, and the contents of my purse are scattered around me. He moves closer, bending down next to me to see what has happened. To my surprise, however, Aiden doesn’t move.
“Coach, I was looking at her forehead,” he explains. “I think she should see Jones.”
Dad nods as he puts his hand on my shoulder. “I think you should, sweetie. You might have a concussion.”
“I think I was clipped by just part of the iguana,” I explain. “It didn’t land on the top of my head.”
The sentence is so absurd, I burst out laughing.
Which also makes my head hurt, and I wince.
“You’ve got to get used to Miami winters,” Dad says, running his fingertips gently over my bump. “There was a falling-iguana warning on the weather last night.”
I blush. Am I the only person living here who didn’t know to look out for falling iguanas?
Apparently so.
“Here, let me help you get your things,” Aiden says, reaching for my wallet.
“No, no, I’ll get it,” I say.
Wyatt bends down. “No, we’ve got it.”
Dad stands up and extends his hand to me, helping me up as Aiden and Wyatt gather my things and hand them back to me.
“Thank you,” I say, taking my tote and purse. “And thank you for checking me over.”
A flush begins to climb up Aiden’s neck. “Of course.”
“We heard your scream and saw you on the ground. We thought you fell,” Wyatt adds. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Well, I’m glad both of you were here,” Dad says. “Thank you both for taking care of my girl. Scarlett, get in my car. I’ll take you to see Jones.”
