Page 109 of Lucky Shot

“Can I have him then?” She laughs. “That man saved your life and has been here every single day since checking up on you.”

“That’s nice,” I say. “But I’m pretty sure you’re mixing me up with a different patient.”

“For your sake, let’s hope not.” She pats my leg. “Now get some rest so you can get yourself better.”

The effort to talk has already drained me of my energy. I don’t have enough left to argue with her and so I close my eyes and fall back asleep.

CHAPTER FORTY

Hardy

“Don’t like hospitals much?”

I open my eyes from where I’m sitting outside of the hospital, hands behind me on the grass, face to the sky as I welcome the sun on my face, and look over to see Whitney’s best friend, Suri. She’s been a godsend the past few days. A go-between for the doctors, the questions, the everything that comes with it and me.

“Nah.” I sit up and glance at my phone. “Not my favorite place. How’s she doing?”

“Good. Better. They think she’ll come around a bit more by morning. Then she’ll get assessed and we’ll see when she’s going home.”

“That’s great news.” I blow out a breath. “She had me . . .” I can’t even finish.

“The trouble is going to be keeping her away from work and her kids so she doesn’t overdo it before she gets cleared.” She sighs. “The woman’s hardheaded.”

“I’ve got that part handled.”

She snorts. “Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious. I’ve been on the phone with Martin on and off. He’s taking over the day-to-day, and I have some other things in the works to help out while she’s recovering.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I may be a football player, Suri, but I also know how to get things done.”

“Apparently,” she says, not offended by my subtle rebuke. She leans back and studies me. “Wow.” She nods. “So this is where we are.”

“Meaning?”

“You really do care for her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I do.” There is zero hesitation on my part. None. And that’s . . . a new concept for me. “It wasn’t a planned thing, I assure you.”

“I was there the first night you met, remember?” She chuckles. “The two of you were oil and water . . . or rather arrogance and defiance.”

“True.”

Whitney’s lying on the floor. Her skin’s clammy and her eyes are rolled back. I shake my head to rid it of the images.

“Has she told you anything about her life, Hardy? Any part of it to understand why those words right there—that you like her—are her ticket to run?”

“Bits. Pieces. Enough to know it wasn’t easy and why she has every validation if she wants to run.” Her expression reflects genuine shock at my response. “But I’m patient and she’s worth it.”

“You know, you make it really hard not to like you,” she teases, and we both fall silent when sirens near and race past us toward the emergency entrance. “That academy is all she has. You . . . you’ve helped it by showing up. Like I said, she’s a stubborn woman so she might not say thank you, but she appreciates that you did.”

“She doesn’t have to say anything.” I glance at my phone and an incoming text from Martin, but it can wait.

“She had so much potential, so many dreams, and to have it all stripped away was hard. But nothing has ever come easy in her life, so to just pivot and keep going was definitely par for the course for her.”

“She’d be an excellent coach.”