Page 104 of A Whole New Trick

“Bad,” I croak. Speaking is getting easier, but doing so sends jolts of pain through my entire head.

Morgan senses it. “Don’t talk.” She squeezes my hand. “Rest. You’re going to be okay.”

Her voice sounds farther away when she turns and asks someone, “Is he going to the hospital?”

“The ambulance is coming around to the medical exit as we speak.”

I try to say I don’t want to go to the hospital—that I just need ten minutes and I’ll be all right—but it comes out as a moan.

“It’s okay, Dane.” Morgan’s thumb strokes the back of my hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

The next thing I know,I’m staring at an off-white ceiling. The sound of a heart rate monitor beeps near my head. For a moment, I wonder if I fell asleep visiting Mom in her hospital room, and then it hits me.

The game.

Glass cracking.

The world going black.

Morgan gripping my hand.

At least this is an improvement. I can clearly see the spots of dust and grime gathered in the corner of the ceiling tile frames.

I try to sit up, but a sharp jolt zips across my head.

“Ugh.” I flop back onto the foam bed beneath me.

“You’re awake.”

Despite the pain, a smile curls my lips. “Morgan.”

Her beautiful face appears above as she leans over me. Brown eyes are wide with relief and worry. “I’m here. How are you feeling.”

“Not great.” I swallow a dry lump in my throat. “What happened?”

“Nichols from Florida checked you into the wall. The equipment staff are still analyzing your helmet, but it seems that the glass hit the material just right and made it fly off your head. Your head whipped back, and you cracked your temple against the ice.”

Pain radiates from my temple the moment she finishes her explanation. I lift my hand and wince when my fingers brush against the bandage wrapped over my forehead and around the base of my skull.

“Damn… that sucks.”

She huffs a strained laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

A tear rolls from the corner of her eye.

My chest tightens. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m trying,” her voice shakes. “Seeing you laying there, not moving…” She sucks in a ragged breath. “It was terrifying.”

“I know.” I can only imagine how I would feel if the roles were reversed. “But I’m fine. Listen to that heartbeat.” I motion in the general direction of where the beeping sounds are coming from. “I’m doing great.”

She shakes her head but gives me a tiny smile. I consider it a win. “Want me to sit the bed up?”

“Yes, please.”

Morgan takes her time, helping me shift my body higher and wait out waves of discomfort that come as the bed inclines. Eventually, I’m seated like I’m in a recliner enjoying a movie with my girlfriend at my side, except I’m in a puke-green hospital gown. I suspect the color choice was intentional.

“How long have I been here?” I ask after telling her that the last thing I remember is speaking to her at the arena.

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