I should have stayed to reassure him. I should have told him not to talk to the press about how bad they felt for possibly screwing up Connor’s career. Player injuries had to be handled carefully, especially as we headed into the pennant race. I should have done all those things. Instead, I maneuvered myself to Connor’s side, standing right next to Cassie.
“I’m fine,” he was saying, but I could see that he was lying. His skin was ashen and sweaty, and there was a tight, rapid rhythm to his breath. But worst of all was the underlying panic in his gaze. He hid it—or tried to—when he looked at Cassie. But the moment Doc gently dislodged her, Connor looked at me, and I could see terror in his eyes. It was quiet, but I felt it as surely as a baseball bat to the sternum.
“Stay with her, please?” he said to me, indicating Cassie.
“Of course,” I answered, though I didn’t know if he heard me. The ambulance was pulling up. Fortunately, I had no trouble keeping that promise. Neither Cassie nor I wanted to leave Connor’s side, but we weren’t allowed to ride in the ambulance with him. Besides, I also had a job to do. I couldn’t help Connor medically, but I could stop any press from getting out too early.
So I squeezed Cassie’s arm. “Stay here. I have to get my purse and bring up the car. Swear you won’t go anywhere without me.”
“I swear,” she answered, her gaze never leaving Connor’s face.
“Good.” And then I took off at a run. First stop—Heidi.
“I’m not going to say a word—” she said, but I cut her off.
“I believe you. But do you think you could keep an eye on social media and stuff, as well as your journalist friends? Don’t stop anyone.” Those words choked me, but I knew it was the only ethical thing to say. “Just give me a heads-up if the news gets out. I’d like to keep it quiet until we know what the damage is.”
“Sure,” Heidi answered, already pulling out her phone. She was smart and capable, and I was pretty sure I could count on her. And if not, Rob was right there beside her giving me the thumbs-up. That was enough for me to overcome my natural suspicion of all journalists.
Next stop—Stevie’s foster father, who had been joined by his wife and their boy. Stevie was the first to start talking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see him. Is it bad? Is he going to die?”
“He’s going to be just fine,” I said, praying it was true. I squatted down to look the child in the eye. “No one is dying.” I couldn’t blame him for being clumsy, so I tried to distract the kid while emphasizing to his foster father that this needed to be kept quiet.
“It was just a game—”
His foster father interrupted with a gentle pat on his shoulder. “We know, Stevie. But we don’t play games inside.”
“I won’t. Never again. I promise—”
“That’s good.” I looked into the father’s eye. “Please, can you not talk about this? Not until we know exactly what’s up and can make an official statement.”
The man winced. “That bad?”
I held up crossed fingers. “It’s probably nothing.” Then I forced my expression into a happy smile. “Did you get any cake, Stevie? There’s probably some left.”
The boy brightened immediately, and the family headed back inside. Job number two, done. I went inside, quelling rumors on the way. It took far too long to get some stuff for Connor and my purse, then even longer to find my car and pull it up to where Cassie was wringing her hands. Thank God she’d waited. The girl hopped in before I’d fully stopped the car, and then together, we rushed away to the hospital, praying the entire drive.
I tried to reassure Cassie. “He’ll be fine. It’s just his knee. It’s not like he has cancer or anything. It’s just a knee.”
She looked at me, her eyes stark, and her mouth sealed shut. God, stoicism must be a family trait.
“Yeah, okay, so baseball is his life, but we shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”
Silence. Okay. So she was jumping to as many of them as I was. But that wasn’t going to help anyone.
“Did you call his agent?”
Cassie shook her head. “He doesn’t like me to get involved.”
“Right.” Probably because it could bring her into close proximity to Sophia. “I suppose he’ll do that at the hospital, anyway.”
The girl shook her head. “The paramedic gave him morphine. I don’t think he’s going to call anyone.”
Not once he was doped up, he wouldn’t.
A phone rang in the back seat, and I frowned at Cassie. She had her purse, and I had my cell plopped into a dash phone holder. The only thing in the back was…
Oh shit. Connor’s jacket. I’d grabbed it plus a baseball cap from his locker. It would help him fly under the radar when he was discharged from the hospital. So that meant the phone was probably his.
