Page 45 of Until He Scores

I was fine.

Really.

Pope

The game wasn’t half bad. Of course, I caught myself staring at the prick who’d dug his fake nails back into Thierry. What was it about him that made my best friend lose his fucking mind?Those women with the ex-piece of shit? Fake. Super fake. They stuck out like hunters wearing camo to a grocery store.

“I don’t like them,” Ireland muttered. “They’re too...” She got this look of consternation on her face before she spat, “plastic.”

Plastic fit them to a T. Nothing about them screamed fan of the sport. Fan of Thierry or even wanting to be there. Instead of watching the game, they took selfies and made it difficult for those behind them to pay attention to the action on the ice. Bet if I ever used TikTok, I’d find a hundred videos of tonight, most of them thirst traps, none of them actually paying attention.

I sounded jealous of them. When I was anything but.

“Hey,” July said, elbowing me. “Thier looks off.” She lifted her chin in his direction. Sure enough, his coloring had gone from sun-kissed tan to an unnatural white and he was sweating profusely.

I sat forward watching him as he gave the defenders instructions, subbing players like it was natural while sucking down a bottle of whatever sports drink they had handy. He also listed. He kept his weight on his good leg more than his bad, and I wondered if he was in pain again. According to Wes, Thierry wouldn’t come right out and say how much he was hurting, but after getting the rundown from those who knew him better than I did, he’d had a hell of a year.

No way in hell I’d be doing the things he was.

“He’s in agony,” I muttered, glancing at where his ex-boyfriend sat, uncaring about Thierry’s health or the fact he was in enough pain he’d turned a sickly shade of pale. “Probably overdid it?”

“Don’t be a jealous prick,” July stated. “I saw the way he looked at you, then looked at his ex. He isn’t happy Derrick is here.”

“If you say so,” I replied, unable to look away.

“Pope, there’s something really wrong.” The tremor in July’s voice knocked against my stubbornness, forcing me to look at Thierry again. She was right. He looked like death warmed over with a side of hit-by-a-Mack truck.

Thierry took a step, then stopped, dropping his head forward as he grasped for anything close enough to him to hold on to. My heart plummeted. I held my breath. It was like watching a car crash about to happen. I didn’t want to see him drop, but I also couldn’t look away as he stumbled and swayed on his feet. In an instant, I was back in the kitchen watching my mother laugh then get this look on her face before she crumbled to the floor. Fear lodged in my throat while my palms slickened with nervous perspiration. Whatever his coach said made Thierry shake his head more, which caused his balance to falter. Observing the scene was like watching a cooked noodle flop around then fold before going down. I had to get to him.

Now.

“I’m going. I know it’s a long shot, but...”

“I’ll make a call,” Lily-Mae said.

I snapped my attention to her. “A call?”

“What’s the point of being a famous football star quarterback’s wife if I don’t use it for good?” She squeezed my hand. “Go save him from that asshole. We’ll take care of the rest.”

I grunted, maneuvering out of the row of seats then exited the rink. I needed to find a tunnel I could use to get to Thierry’s side. No way in hell that asshole would anywhere close to my best friend or help him through whatever this was. I’d never seen Thierry so sick before.

Maybe he wasn’t sick at all but hooked on painkillers or something. It would make sense after everything he’d been through.Thierry doesn’t even like taking pain pills, better yet getting hooked on them. What the hell is wrong with you?Ichided myself for being stupid, though the question had merit. He had new friends and an asshole for an ex. For all I knew that bastard could’ve gotten Thierry hooked on shit, because that’s the vibe the guy gave off.

I raced through the arena trying to find a way to get to Thierry before anyone else could, when a security guard came up to me. He held up his hand, halting my frantic search. “You Pope Ellis?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.”Thank you, Lily-Mae.

“Come with me.” He led me through the arena until we got to the locker room.

The smell of sweat, astringents, and vinyl assailed me.Mountaineergold, red, green painted the walls while the floor was a solid industrial black carpet. The controlled though hurried conversation of several men further down the hall, drew my attention. I crossed to them, knowing somewhere within the huddled mass was Thierry. He had to be okay. I couldn’t stand it if he wasn’t. Not after how we ended things the morning after Wes’ party at the compound.

Someone hissed in the crowd of staff, and I pushed through, uncaring if they wanted me there or not. Thierry lay on one of the therapy tables. His pant leg had been cut open while someone stuffed bags of ice under his arms and around his neck. They’d even placed them under his knees.

“I made a comment earlier about his knee,” the coach said. I recognized him from the box. “He told me he was still in some pain. When I saw him, he didn’t look this bad.”

“We’re going to have to transfer him to Vandy,” another man said. “I’ll call his orthopedic doctor.”

“I’m going with him,” I said, drawing a critical eye of everyone in the room. “I’m Pope Ellis. His best friend. Lily-Mae Basher made the call so I could be with him.”

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