Page 85 of Hello Quarterback

Again,weak.

Then sneakers sounded on the wood floor, and Bryce came into the kitchen, a crease etched into his brow.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then Dad beat me to it. “She okay?”

Bryce answered with a somber shrug.

More footsteps sounded as Fletcher came back into the room. “The team doctor wants to stitch you up at the facility. Guess he’s worried I’ll do a botch job.” There was some disgruntled muttering about his medical degree and residency. Then he let out a sigh. “I can drive you there, keep an eye on it.”

“No, stay with your wife and kids,” I said.

Fletcher started to argue, but Dad jumped in. “I’ll drive you. Bryce, follow in my truck so I have a ride back.”

Bryce nodded, looking so much like Fletcher, arms crossed and everything. “’Slong as I don’t have to ride with Ford.”

Fletcher huffed out a sigh. “Fine. I can see I’m not needed here. Let me bandage you up at least.”

Within a few minutes, he had my wound wrapped for the trip. Then my brothers helped me out to my truck, the late afternoon sun glancing off the windshield.

Acting like I was an invalid, they helped me into the pickup. I swatted Fletcher’s hand away when he tried to buckle me.

“Hey, I have kids—it’s a habit,” he said.

My smile lasted all of half a second.

Fletcher said, “Have the doctor call and update me, please. And if you need anything, let me know. I’ll be in Dallas within two hours. Liv will be okay with the girls.”

I nodded, grateful for him.

Even Bryce wished me good luck before shutting the door and walking to Dad’s pickup.

That was the thing about family.

They loved you, even when you didn’t deserve it.

After a couple minutes, Dad had my bags in the truck bed and was sitting in the driver’s seat. He started the truck and pulled out the driveway, leaving home in the rearview.

Dad said, “I’ll need you to give me directions when we get a little closer.”

“Okay.” I leaned my chair back, staring at the gray headliner. Even with my eyes open, my mind kept seeing the look on Mia’s face when I told her I didn’t want her here.

But she’d been so quick to pack her bags and leave. Had her driver been on standby this whole time, ready to whisk her away? Had she been planning for this to end badly, one way or another?

The question ricocheted through my mind as we drove down the highway, and the only reprieve I got was when Dad said, “You’ve been moping long enough.”

Which wasn’t really a reprieve at all, because now the attack was coming from my dad.

I stared over at him, convinced I hadn’t heard him right. “Moping? I’m a professional football player with an injury. It’s not something you just get over.”

“Moping. And I don’t care what name you wear on the front of your jersey; you have Madigan on your back. That means something.”

Frustrated, I pushed the lever to raise my seat and stared over at Dad, suburbs blurring out the window behind him. “Tell me, howshouldI be reacting?”

“Well first of all, you should be calling Mia and apologizing for pushing her away.”

I gritted my teeth together.

“Second, you should apologize to Bryce for snapping at him.”

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