“He’s not moving.” I sniffed, tears falling down against my will. My throat felt like I’d swallowed shards of glass.This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. He has to be okay.
Oh my god, he has to be okay.
“He’s not moving.”
“He is. See?” Luca pointed and leaned closer to me. “He’s hitting his left fist on the ground over and over. He’s pissed.”
Oh thank god.Callum wasn’t knocked out cold then. But he still wasn’t getting up. I sucked in air, choking like I’d swallowed a gallon of water, and Luca frowned at me. “Hold it together, Emerson.”
“Sorry, I can’t… this is…”
“We all love that idiot. I get it.”
Never thought in a million years that Luca Monroe would help ease my stress after watching my boyfriend take a hit. I snorted, but my tears fell harder. “He’ll be okay.”
“Yes, he will. He’s getting up! That’s it, O’Toole!” Luca cupped his mouth and kept shouting.
Callum gripped Henry’s shoulder with one arm, his other holding his helmet as he stared at the ground. He lifted the helmet, and everyone screamed loud. It was a collective cheer of relief, and when Callum’s gaze landed on me, he nodded.
I’m okay.
I closed my eyes and swayed, causing Luca to right me. “Thanks.”
Henry, Callum, and two other guys who worked with Henry walked Callum off the field, and it was like he took my heart with him. He seemed so defeated. The way his brows cinched together and his eyes had lost their spark.
It gutted me. A fresh wave of tears fell down my face, and I wiped them. I never wanted to see that sad look. Callum was created to smile and make jokes, so to see the opposite worried me.
Luca jutted his chin toward the tunnel. “He’s gonna need you.”
Are you sure?
I didn’t get a chance to ask though. Luca ran back out on the field, and it was pure pandemonium. Our team was fired up and ready for revenge. Michigan underestimated the connection these guys had and how much Callum mattered to them. If we were playing rough before, it was nothing like now.
Every second away from visiting Callum felt like an hour. Was he upset? Hurting? Freaking out?
Did he wish I was there, was he let down I couldn’t be?
I was choosing my internship over him, and fuck, that sucked. That wasn’t the right choice, and my stomach churned. I could sneak down there, check on him? But how could I explain that to Henry? If anyone else on the team was hurt, I’d remain on the field.
I chewed the hell out of my hangnail to the point it bled by the time the game ended. The retaliation post-Callum was incredible. We scored three more times and obliterated any chance they had at getting near the goal.
Each heartbeat had me questioning my choice of not being with him. He could be upset with me, and I’d understand. I hoped we had enough trust and love built up that he understood and would forgive, and after this, I’d never put him second.
I made my way back toward the training rooms, my ears straining for any sound array. With a typical injury, the guys were to stay on premises to see Henry before going to the hospital if it required more care.
It felt surreal, walking toward the recovery room to see Callum propped on the table. His right knee was bent up, but his left leg was straight and bent at a terrible angle. My throat tightened. My gut said this was a severe fracture, which would be twelve weeks before mobility and six months to get back to normal.
Six months.
His jaw flexed as he stared at a wall, and he looked so damn sad. I wanted to crawl over him and comfort him, to tell him inside jokes just to see his smile for a second.
I swallowed as I tapped on the window. He didn’t glance at me and didn’t even react to me. After glancing down the hallway, no one was near us as I walked in the room. I was shocked he couldn’t hear me just by the beat of my heart. “Are you okay?”
He whipped his arm off his face and glanced at the window, then me. His eyes widened, and he barked, “Get out of here.”
“Callum.” I stumbled back, the sharpness to his words hitting me in the chest. His tone was so unlike him, so harsh. “Your ankle.”
His eyes widened. “You shouldn’t be here.”
