What the fuck is my roomie doing here?Sam Spencer has never shown up to any of my football practices. I don’t expect him to either for a couple of reasons. I would have to get approval, which Coach Parker doesn’t usually consent to, and Sam isn’t interested in football all that much. He’s skinny, lanky, and a nerd who barely knows the first thing about sports. Everything he knows about football I taught him, and on occasion he attends a home game, when he isn’t behind his computer.
Coach Parker storms away from Coach Price, narrowing his hazel eyes and glaring at me.
As I suspect, their tension was about me.But Coach Parker will have to wait to chew my ass out as my gaze is glued to Sam, my trepidation mounting as he nears. He’s huffing and puffing as he practically skids to a halt on the track that edges the perimeter of the field. His blue eyes radiate with fear, and sweat drips down his temples. He lets out a shuddering breath. “Your mom called me.”He gulps down more air.
My jaw hits the track I’m standing on.“What happened?” Mom would only call Sam inan emergency. I’d given her his number just in case she couldn’t get ahold of me.She knows my phone is in my locker during practice and games.
“Phoebe was rushed to thechildren’shospitalin town,” Sam pants. “The guard let me double-park. Come on.”
Motherfucker.
Panic grips mein my chest,and Ifeel like I’m having a heart attack.
“Go,” Coach Parker says, having overheard the conversation. “We’ll talk later.”
I thrust my helmet atCarter and start jogging, not caring that I’m wearing shoulder pads and stink like a skunk has just sprayed me at close range.
Phoebe is the world to me, and I worry every fucking day about her. Hell, therearenights I can’t sleep wondering how she’s doing, and I hate that I’m stuck in my dorm room and unable to check on her.
At the age of four, she wasdiagnosed with cystic fibrosis, a disorder that damages several organs but mainly the lungs. Mom had noticed a salty taste to Phoebe whenever she kissed her. Then shedevelopeda persistent cough that she couldn’t shake.Multiple tests later, the doctor told Mom the bad news, and we’ve been living with it ever since, both of us trying to do everything we can to ensure she’s well taken care of.
Sam is panting behind me as I all but sprint down the track toward the sports complex. Since Phoebe is at the children’s hospital, which isn’t that far from Cypress University, I briefly debate whether to run through the streets.
But a stitch grips my side before dizziness hits me like a damn brick.
Sam runs past me to his cherry-redVolkswagenbug.
Bending over, with my hands on my knees, I pray that the pain and sudden bout of dizziness subside.
“You’re dehydrated,” Sam suggests. “I got a bottle of water in the car.”
I do my best to drag my butt inside, and it’s challenging, because my body is way too big for the small interior.
It doesn’t help you’re wearing your shoulder pads, dude.
Sam starts the engine. “Don’t you dare say a damn word about my car.”His voice is light, but there’s steel underneath it.
Usually, I rib him about his choice in cars, but he didn’t get a say. When his sister trekked off to college on the West Coast, her cute little bug was handed down to Sam.Phoebe adores it, and that says it all.
It takes me a minute, but I manage to get my shoulder pads off. Once I do, I let out a breath, and the sharp pain in my side eases a little.
“Water bottle is in the back,” Sam confirms, expertly navigating out of the parking lot like he’s emerging from arace carpit on a NASCARtrack.
I grab the bottle and guzzle it down.
As Sam flies through the city, dodging red lights, I ask, “Did my mom say anything else?”
He hands me his phone. “No. Call her.”
I tap on her name, and within seconds, her voice filters through the phone. “Sam, did you find Adam?”
“It’s me, Mom.”
She emits a relieved sigh. “Are you on your way?”
Sam guns the gas before the yellow light turns red and keeps his foot pressed down on the pedal as he navigates one more light and two turns before the hospital comes into view.
“We’re almost there, Mom.”
