Most of the time, we’re coached on what to say in situations like this. I looked to the press manager and saw her offer me a curt nod, the only validation I would get that I’d handled the line of questioning as she would have advised.
The moment I could break free, I raced to the players’ parking lot. I slowed down when a few kids called out for an autograph because I remembered being on the other side of the fence and what it meant to me to have players at least pretend to give a damn.
Traffic was merciless on the way to the hospital. Between construction and the fans creeping toward the highway, there was nothing I could do to get to the hospital quicker. I tapped at the phone display in the dashboard of my SUV hoping I won’t get put to voicemail.
“Sean!” Mason’s mother sounded nearly frantic when she answered the phone. “Honey, how are you? Are you on your way up here? Mason’s been asking for you.”
“I’m on my way up there right now. I’m so sorry.” My throat constricted and I was unable to will the tears not to form in the corners of my eyes.
Why couldn’t he have been standing two inches further from the plate? Why couldn’t the ball have gone an inch to the left?
I pinched the bridge of my nose while I waited for the light to turn green, hoping I wouldn’t totally lose my composure.
“Sean Tucker, this isnotyour fault,” Mrs. Atley admonished. “I know you’re too darn stubborn to believe that right now, but I will keep telling you until you do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The light changed and I eased off the brake to start creeping up the ramp onto the freeway. Hopefully, traffic wouldn’t be quite as horrendous once there were more lanes and no lights.
Mason’s dad took the phone and reiterated what his wife told me. They could tell me that it was an accident all they wanted, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Bill told me that they had taken Mason for X-rays of his face, and they thought his injuries were limited to possibly some broken bones.
I pulled into the emergency entrance at the hospital, sucking in a sharp breath when I saw the vultures hovering at the door. It was no surprise that they were somehow able to beat me here, some probably arrived before the ambulance carrying Mason even pulled into the bay.
“Sean, do you have anything to say about what happened tonight?” one reporter shouted. I pulled the cap low over my brow, more to shield my eyes from the blinding flashes than to obscure my identity. I refused to dignify the string of meaningless, shallow questions with answers.
The voices faded into the distance as the sliding doors closed behind me. Teresa noticed me the moment the waiting room came into view. Why she was even here was beyond me.
“You cocky, arrogant ass,” she hissed as she stalked across the room. To any of the photographers lurking, we probably looked like two people concerned about someone we cared about. Both of us were working hard to make sure no one latched onto the animosity between us. “You shouldn’t be here. Mason has enough he has to deal with right now without people talking about you sitting at his bedside.”
I cupped my hand under her elbow, guiding her to a chair at the back of the waiting room where we wouldn’t cause a scene or disrupt anyone. “Regardless of what you think you know, I’m here because of the one fact you’ve known for a long time. Mason’s been my best friend for years, andthatis why I’m here. Add to that the fact that he’s here because of a pitch I threw, and I want to make sure he’s okay without hearing how the analysts spin it. That explains why I’m here, but what are you doing here, Teresa?”
“That’s none of your business,” she seethed. Before I told her that anything having to do with Mason was my business, she stormed off down the hall toward Mason’s room. I wanted to point out that she had no right to go back there, but I’d let Bill deal with her. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already had. I felt the eyes of people in the waiting room watching me, wondering what that fight had been about.
I flopped into one of the unforgiving plastic chairs, ready to sit for as long as it took before Bill came out to get me. I needed to see Mason, but since I wasn’t family, I had no choice but to wait.
A few of Mason’s teammates joined me in the waiting room. Time dragged on while we waited for Mason to get some x-rays and stitches in his face. With every passing minute, I grew more convinced that something major was happening in there and no one was telling us anything.
I stood, needing to move. On my third lap around the grouping of chairs in the middle of the room, Colfax, one of Mason’s teammates, grabbed my arm.
“Sit the fuck down, would ya?” he grumbled, pulling me into an empty chair. “He’s gonna be fine. You live here, you should know this place has a rep for being slower than molasses.”
“They should have some news by now. Why aren’t they telling us what’s going on?” When I looked up, I saw myself on the television in the corner of the room. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to look away. The network had slowed the footage to draw out every agonizing millisecond that I’ll never get back. I watched, dissecting the pitch, hoping it’d show me what went wrong.
“Would someone turn that shit off?” Colfax yelled. A rookie, whose name I couldn’t remember, leapt out of his seat and the screen went black. “Don’t watch that shit, man. You know they’re all going to be looking at it from every angle they can, trying to find somethin’ that isn’t there. Everyone knows you never woulda done anything to hurt him.”
I tangled my fingers through my hair, resisting the urge to scream because I was seriously going to lose my mind if one more person told me it wasn’t my fault. Just as I lost the fight, the sound of shoes squeaking on the floor jarred me out of my homicidal thoughts.
“Sean Tucker?” The nurse squared her shoulders, effectively thrusting her ample chest forward as she looked around the room. I stood, pausing momentarily to tell Colfax that I’d tell them what was going on as soon as I knew anything. “Mr. Atley has been asking for you. I have to warn you, his wife doesn’t seem pleased that we’re following his request instead of hers.”
“Not shocking, but thanks for the heads up.” I wanted to inform the woman that she was Mason’sex-wife, but that seemed petty right now, especially since legally they were still married. Her procrastination on signing the divorce papers was simply one more reason for me to despise her.
The nurse swiped her keycard in front of the sensor and the doors swung open. I followed her down the hall, blocking out the hushed murmurs of people talking as they watched me walk past.
I heard Teresa’s shrill voice before the nurse reached Mason’s room. There was no screaming, so that was something. The nurse pointed to the door, and I waited outside, working up the courage to walk in there while Teresa was still beside his bed.
When she exited the room, her eyes were red and black streaks of mascara ran down her face. I held my breath when she grabbed my shoulder, reminding myself that we were in public and I couldn’t cause a scene.
“He’s all yours,” she choked out, shaking her head. “I’ve told myself for years that he’d learn to love me, but I know that’ll never happen. Not as long as he’s in love with you.”
“Teresa, don’t,” I warned her. I glanced over my shoulder to see who may have overheard her.
