“I may be all those things, but I’m also yours. That is what I am first, that is what I want to be first. Everything else is just logistics.”
My breath caught. Her words hit me so hard I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. “Bianca.”
“Evan, I’ve known about this injury for months. I’ve watched you destroy yourself trying to hide it. I’ve iced your shoulder after midnight when we were alone in your apartment, covered for you with my father, lied to the entire coaching staff, and above all else, I have compromised my professional ethics because I knew you weren’t ready to face the truth. I couldn’t understand why until I read about your father; then I understood. So please, don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be involved. I’ve been involved the moment I got here, and I am even more involved now.”
“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” I whispered, realizing the position I’d put her in.
“Don’t apologize. I had options. I allowed my feelings for you to get in the way. You were right last night when you said it had to do with Marcus Grant. I didn’t want to admit that to myself, but you were right. Just promise me, going forward there won’t be any more hiding, because this needs to get fixed.”
“Well, you are in luck because I can’t do this anymore. The pain is constant now, most days unbearable. Every pass, every shot, every hit against the boards hurts. I wake up at night and can barely move my arm. Right now, I feel like I could vomit, it’s so bad, and for the first time in my life I’m actually cold. I’m scared, Bianca, that I’ve destroyed it past the point of being able to heal.”
Bianca wrapped her arms around me, careful not to hit my shoulder, sliding her hand into my hair as she pulled my head against her chest, trying to comfort me.
“It’s okay, we will get this taken care of,” she whispered.
“It’s not. I’ve fucked this up…badly.”
“We will get it fixed. We’ll tell coach, get you into imaging so we know exactly what it is we are dealing with, and then we’ll make our plan. Whatever it takes. We have a good team here.”
“What about the rest of the season?” I asked.
“Fuck the season. The team will be fine without you. Your career is more important than the handful of games we have left. Your life, your mental health is more important.”
I looked up at her, at those eyes of hers I’d grown to love even when they glared with anger.
“Why do you care this much?” I asked.
She smiled, sliding her hand from my hair to my jaw, her thumb tracing my bottom lip.
She moved to the other side of the room to grab some pain relievers from the bottle, handed them to me, and then looked at me.
“Evan, though we haven’t known one another for a long time, I think I’m in love with you,” she said. The words rolled off her tongue as if they meant nothing, easy and carefree.
“What?” Each breath I took now felt labored.
“I tried not to. You’re a player, I’m staff. My dad’s the coach, and I am sure there was a meeting, or a warning given to the team before I even joined.”
Months of tension, stolen glances, and carefully maintained professional distance that had constantly threatened to combust were now gone after the kiss we’d shared last night. I could feel her breath on my lips, warm and steady, could see the way her pupils dilated as she looked at me.
“If I let you in…if I let you see all of me…you have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“That you won’t stay with me out of pity. Don’t stay with me because you feel responsible or because you think I can’t handle this alone. If you’re going to be here, I want it to be because you want to be. Because I am worth it. Not because I’m broken.”
“Callahan…you’re hurt, not broken. There is a difference. And yes, injury and all, you’re absolutely fucking worth it. Every single stubborn, complicated, defended, beautiful part of you.”
She brought her lips to mine, taking my mouth with hers, sweeping her tongue through my mouth, easing away the pain I was feeling. My arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against me as I felt my control slip.
“Bianca, if we do this?—”
“Callahan, we are doing this, we are doing us, but first, we are calling an ambulance, doing the surgery, recovery, and the physical therapy. We are going to do this the right way,no shortcuts, no more playing through the pain. I don’t even know how you are sitting here, coherent enough to have this conversation, but you’re going to let me take care of you, and please, trust me when I say that your needing help does not make you weak.”
I rested my forehead against hers as I slid my good arm around her waist, pulling her close.
“What about after, when I’m cleared?”
“After, we figure out what this is between us. Whatever that looks like, that is what we are going with.”
