Page 48 of Replay
“Give it three months. To the end of this year. If you win and it goes bad, I’ll pay the fee to get your apartment back. I’ll also spend more nights there,” he tells me, standing back up to his full height, hands on my hips.
“And if you win?” I question, my arms crossing over my chest.
Hawke’s eyes gleam. His fingers brush the hair over my shoulder and he lightly touches my neck. “Then you stay here where you belong, and…you have to get some ink on that skin.”
I can’t believe that asshole bet a tattoo. The worst part is that I’m actually considering taking his stupid bet. Right afterHawke laid down the terms, he showered and had to head out for the team warmups before his game. It's another away game this weekend, but this time an overnight is not needed. So here I am, a love sick fool, secretly watching my boyfriend play football on the tv in my small apartment where my family and friends are cooped up.
“I mean his place is bigger,” Riley mumbles, and I shoot a glare her way.
His place is bigger, nicer, and totally my dream place to finish college at, but I won’t say it out loud. I’ve just become more comfortable dating Hawke publicly and now he’s pushing to move in together. I don’t know why I’m so against him wanting to take care of me. He assures me he wants to. Why can’t I make myself comfortable accepting it?
“Ah, Emms.” Sam’s face turns worried and I follow her line of sight to the tv where they’re showing Hawke, only my boyfriend is lying on the ground.
“No!” I rush over and grab the remote, upping the volume to hear what they’re saying.
“All I can say is that Sheppard was not expecting this hit. His offensive line was lined up, taking blocks but you can see right here…”
A yellow circle appears around one of the defensemen. “Watch as Newbury steps out of the play. It's almost like he deliberately let the guy through to get to Sheppard.”
I watch in horror as the rest of the play happens and see the minute Hawke turns, realizing what is happening, and tries to take as much of the hit with his body as he can before falling to ground and risking a head injury. We all gasp though when we see the way his knee hits the ground.
Tears cloud my vision as I watch more medical personnel approach the field as they try to get Hawke to sit up. At one point he glances at a camera and I swear I see him say my name. Myheart thuds painfully, just wanting to see him move. Sam and Riley are right next to me, holding my hands.
“Sheppard is getting up. This is delayed,” Carter says suddenly, concentrating on his phone, and for some reason I know he’s getting the info from Isla.
My dad glances at me and his brow is raised. “Sheppard? As in Hawke Sheppard?”
“Your high school boyfriend,” my mom adds, turning to face me, and I see her gaze zero in on how tightly I’m holding onto my friends.
“We’ve been seeing each other. It's new, but he’s my boyfriend again,” I tell them both, but my attention keeps coming back to the television. Finally, Hawke stands and puts some pressure on his leg. The crowd goes crazy while he limps off the field and over to a medical cart.
“Anything new?” Reign turns to Carter who shakes his head, fingers flying over his phone. I take a few deep breaths and my mom calmly walks over to me, wrapping me in a hug.
“I’m confused,” my dad continues. “Isn’t he the same guy who broke your heart and you swore you hated?”
A laugh escapes my lips and my mom turns to my dad frowning. “Daniel. Now is not the time.”
He throws up his hands, shaking his head, and watches the tv. We all are glued to the screen for the next two plays before the crowd roars to life again, and we see Hawke making his way back out to his team. My heart clenches and I hold my breath. He makes a play and another one. To everyone else he looks like he’s just getting back into the swing of things, but I notice the way he guards his knee, hobbling slightly after each play.
“Mom. Dad. I need to tell you something.”
hawke
. . .
Taking that hit sucked.I saw it coming, saw the way my own offensive lineman let it happen. There’s an investigation pending to see if that player was negligent. He couldn’t even be sneaky about it; the guy really just held up his hands and let the other team through. According to Riggs, and a couple of the other guys, this particular player isn’t happy with his lack of playing time because of my new system and routes for the team. Since I got back home, a few of my team members have reached out and are quickly changing their tune. Seems that when you lead the way to a 40-10 victory with a bum leg, people quickly see the truth. This truth being that I’m here to win and bring Michigan a title.
The only bright spot in getting hit is finding Emmarys waiting for me outside my apartment when I get home. Even better is the bag she’s carrying. When I question her, her shoulders shrug and she says the words I need to hear.
“Guess I’ll take that bet, Sheppard.”
That was two days ago now and she’s been here with me ever since. Fuck, getting hurt may have been worth it just to have herfussing over me. Right when I was taken off the field, our trainer ruled it as a sprain. I took the pain meds and coddled it the rest of the game. I watched over the next few hours as it bruised and swelled up. Once I was out of my gear, I started icing it and alternating with heat. Emmarys is also encouraging stretching it and helping massage the areas that feel tight. In all my years of experiences with sprains and other injuries, this one is by far the best because of the aftercare.
As if sensing I need to see her, Emmarys walks into the living room, toweling her hair off with one of my towels. My eyes scan over her leggings and one of my t-shirts that she's taken to wearing.
“Need anything?”
I shake my head, rolling my lips between my teeth. “Just you, sugar.”
