Page 12 of Breakaway Daddies

The crowd’s collective voice swells and ebbs like a distant tide, but an oppressive hush envelops us all around Rowan. I place my hand on his forearm, his skin radiating an unsettling heat, his breathing shallow and labored.

“We need the stretcher,” Ally demands, her tone clipped and worried.

Within seconds, two nurses arrive with the stretcher, and there are tentative cheers as we load Rowan’s body onto it as gently as we can. Ally guides us all while stabilizing his head, and we carry him away from the game, leaving it to end without him.

Rowan’s eyelids flutter slightly as we maneuver him onto the examination table in Ally’s office, yet an eerie stillness still envelops him.

The overhead light casts sharp, angular shadows across his pale, waxy face, highlighting the purplish tint beneath his eyes.

I want him to wake up, to open his eyes and give me the lazy, confident smile he always has, but no matter how many times I attempt to will him awake, he doesn’t stir.

Ally moves with practiced speed, her gloved fingers gently lifting his eyelids, revealing dilated pupils that show no signs of life. I stand at the foot of the table, arms tightly crossed as my heart pounds with such intensity it drowns out my thoughts.

“Please, Rowan, please,” Ally murmurs, her voice a plea as she clicks her penlight on and off, the beam flickering across his unmoving gaze.

There’s no real reaction, no shimmer of recognition or response.

I swallow hard, the dryness in my throat uncomfortable. “Is he going to be okay?” My voice trembles with the question.

Ally hesitates, her silence stretching for what feels like an eternity, wrapping around my insides and twisting them into a knot. She’s usually a pillar of confidence, calm and composed—if she’s hesitating, it means something is seriously wrong.

Rowan’s body remains as still as a statue, save for the occasional involuntary twitch of his fingers. Seeing him like this, so utterly motionless, feels profoundly wrong, sending a sharp ache through my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.

Ally straightens her back and lets out a long sigh as she tugs off her blue latex gloves, the snap echoing in the small room.

“He’s too messed up for us to handle here,” she says, her voice filled with urgency. “He needs to be transported to the hospital immediately.”

She turns on her heel, heading toward the phone mounted on the wall, her footsteps quick and purposeful.

I inch closer to the examination table, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers wrap tightly around the cold metal edge of the exam bed, my knuckles turning white as I try to anchor myself.

Is this the end for him? Will he ever set foot on the ice again? What happens if?—?

Suddenly, Rowan’s lips tremble, and for a fleeting moment, I think my mind might be playing tricks on me. But then, with a voice barely above a whisper, he manages to croak out, “Jinx…”

My head snaps down to him, panic and hope swirling inside me. “Rowan? Hey, I’m here,” I say, leaning closer, my breath held tight in my chest.

His long, dark lashes flutter like fragile wings against the pale skin of his cheekbones. He struggles to crack his eyes open, and when he finally does, they lock onto mine with a mixture of frustration and affection.

“Damn it, Jinx,” he rasps. “I just wanted to take you on a date before I died. Why you gotta be so cruel to me?”

I blink. “Are you seriously using your near-death experience to hit on me?”

He lets out a ragged chuckle that quickly morphs into a pained groan, his face contorting with the effort. “Did it work?” he forces out.

I snort, shaking my head in disbelief. “You are unbelievable,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

He tries to tilt his head toward me, the movement slow and labored. His forehead creases with the exertion, and I can see the glaze of pain in his eyes, a clear sign that he’s teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Jinx,” he says again, sounding more fragile this time. “You owe me.”

I roll my eyes, but the fondness that tugs at my lips betrays me, despite the situation. Damn him.

Damn him for making me feel something right now, when I should be focused on his health, not on how infuriatingly attractive he looks even while lying half-dead.

“Fine.” I sigh dramatically, trying to mask the concern in my voice. “One date. If you survive this, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Ally clears her throat, a subtle yet pointed sound that demands attention. I glance up from the cluttered desk to find her watching me with a knowing expression, her eyes sparkling with understanding.

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