And I’d been worried about Coach driving.
Coach rushes up to the information counter while I pace near the double doors. I squeeze my eyes shut and grab the back of my head with both hands.
Please. Please. Let Emily be okay.
Heels click on the tile floor, drawing my eyes up and down the hall.
President Parker surveys me as she approaches, her brows knitting together. “What are you doing here, Mr. Miller?” she asks in her usual professional-slash-condescending tone. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
I refrain from an eye roll. Word on campus is she’s a bitch to deal with. I haven’t had the pleasure to be summoned to her office, but two guys in my dorm have. Both got their asses chewed. She threatened to revoke their scholarships if they got out of line again and pulled any other pranks on the admin building. Apparently, they TP’d the trees in front of her office, and she was not a happy camper.
“How’s Emily?” I ask as Coach sidles up to me.
She regards me with ice-blue eyes. “She’s none of your business.”
“Cut the crap, Carole,” Coach says. “Adam is her boyfriend. He’s every right to be here.”
My jaw hangs in a similar fashion to President Parker, but this isn’t the time to decode Coach’s feelings on my relationship. If we still have one, because we basically broke up last night.
“Now tell me about my daughter,” Coach adds. “How is she?”
She loses her scowl for a split second. “She’s in a coma.”
Her voice is flat, and her tone contains no feeling whatsoever. Emily was right. She is a cold bitch. I would never hurt a lady, but every fiber in me wants to strangle President Parker until she’s turned blue. The woman needs to be committed. “Do you not give a shit about your daughter?” I know the answer. I want to hear her say it though. “How can you stand there like a robot and tell us that?” I grab fistfuls of my hair. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I shout.
“Get some air, son,” Coach suggests, clamping a hand on my shoulder.
Gladly. I walk away, seething, unable to breathe. But I don’t go outside, because I want to stay close in case anything happens, so I head to the waiting room. The minute I drop down in a chair in the almost deserted room, my hands start to shake. I hang my head. Going over it all again. Beating myself up like I deserve. I could’ve helped her. I could’ve convinced her to tell me what was bothering her. I handled her and the situation all wrong.
I don’t know how long I sit there, arguing with myself and praying for Emily, but by the time Coach appears, I’m stiff, tense, and distraught. I’ve chewed my nails down to nubs.
He takes a seat in the chair next to me, placing his hand on my back. “She’s in a coma, but her vitals are stable,” he says as though he didn’t believe his wife when she told us.
Tears prick my eyes. “I shouldn’t have pushed her away.”
“Son,” Coach’s voice is calming, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor. “I can see you love my daughter. And as much as I want to blame you, I can’t. Emily has always had a self-destruct button.”
“She was getting better,” I mumble.
“I had noticed,” he says.
“I should have done more.”
“You tried, which is more than can be said for me and my wife.”
Shock splays across my face.
“It’s the truth. We failed her again.” He closes his eyes momentarily. “Look, we’ve a lot to discuss. I’m not saying you’re out of the woods with me yet, but I misjudged you last night.” He sighs heavily. “Emily needs you. Hell, I need you. I don’t want to lose my QB. We still have games to play, and the team needs you on that field. For now, let’s just hope and pray Emily comes out of this.”
I appreciate his words, but football doesn’t matter.
Emily does.
26
Emily
My mouth is parched as I slowly come to. I blink my eyes open, wincing as a bright light hits my retinas like a punch to the face. My eyes close, and my body is like a dead weight as I attempt to move my arms.
