Shelby watches them in approval. “I’ve been dying to meet your little man.”
I look up to her. “I’m so glad. Thank you so much for doing this and for wanting to get to know Sam. You have no idea how much it means to me.”
“Oh please, it’s our pleasure, and seriously, look how cute that jersey is on him.”
We take a few seconds to bask in the moment as the boys play with him. Time, that’s what I need to help pull myself back together.
Sam is in his element. The massive stadium billows around him—the pristine Raptors stadium, usually a place of grit, pain, and pressure, now transformed into one of fun, laughter, and ease.
“Now, come on.” She smiles, reaching for my hand and gesturing to the spectators’ area. “Coach will kill us if we have glass on his sacred turf. Bring your phone and that jersey, we need to get the word around campus,” she gestures to the silky silver and blue jersey in my hand, her grin full of mischief. “We are going to put a stop to all those women circling him at parties.”
I’m so grateful for my newfound friendships. I didn’t know I needed them until they were here. And now? I don’t want to do life without them.
41
Randy
I have an extra spring in my step as I jog down the stairs after another mind-blowing romp with my girl. I’m not sure how it keeps getting better. Maybe because we trust each other. Maybe we are more relaxed around each other, or perhaps it’s just love, and now it’s different,better.
Rachel’s just getting out of the shower, and I’m rummaging through the kitchen for something sweet to have after dinner. I hear her gentle footsteps descending the stairs as headlights sweep across the driveway. Wondering who’s just getting in at this hour and realizing I don’t even know which of my housemates are home. Rachel wraps her arms around me and presses a kiss to my bare back, making me smile as I spin to face her.
“I found chocolate—”
“Seth!”
A masculine, fragile cry of pain cuts through the night from the front door. It’s not a casual call, but one that sparks immediate fear.
I tear myself from Rachel’s arms and push my feet toward the door, her quick footsteps trailing behind me. Walsh collapses on all fours just inside the threshold. There’s so much blood pouring from his face. He coughs, and more blood spurts from his mouth as one hand grips at his ribs.
“Seth!” Rachel screams, her voice piercing the air with a blood-curdling sound. Beside me, she dives, catching Walsh just as he crumples to the floor. His face is blooded, bruised, and broken. Bright red stains cover over half his light-colored green shirt, and his left eye is so badly beaten, he can no longer open it. His breath is sharp and rapid and his nose is obviously broken, and I can see he has at least one tooth missing. “Seth!” Rachel screams again in desperation.
“Walsh, what the fuck! Who did this to you?”
He doesn’t answer me just concentrates on breathing through the pain as both Seth and Christian race into the entrance in horror.
I stare back to them in helpless disbelief. “What do I do, man?” I cry out to Seth holding Walsh’s broken body against mine.
“Christian, call the ambulance!” Seth shouts.
Seth pushes me out of the way and gets in my face. “Go get a bucket of warm water, towels, and the first-aid kit.” I nod and race to the laundry, grabbing a bucket along the way. Running the water till it’s warm and grabbing a pile of clean towels. I return with all the items and then go grab the first-aid kit.
Rachel cries, cradling his head in her lap, her hands gently tracing over him, searching for broken bones.
Christian paces the front porch talking to 911.
My heart beats erratically in my chest as I walk behind Seth feeling helpless as the studying doctor and nurse apply their learned skills. All I can concentrate on is the slow rise and fall of Walsh’s chest.
“Randy!” Christian calls my name, holding his hand over the speaker of his phone. “Call Coach and Walsh’s dad.”
I nod, reaching for my phone and pulling up Coach’s number. It only rings twice before he answers, and I can hearthe concern in his voice. When your quarterback rings you late at night, it’s usually not a good thing.
“Harrison!” he answers.
“Coach, we have a situation.”
“What?” his hard voice demands.
“Walsh is hurt. He needs to go to the hospital.”
