Page 73 of Game On
Ella must be panicking. But injuries are part of the game, and Ash is tough; he’ll probably recover quickly. I watch him as he’s taken away for medical evaluation, just as Coach calls us back to get ready for the second half.
The game resumes, but the atmosphere has shifted. The earlier focus dims, replaced by a tense undercurrent as we all push to stay focused despite our massive lead. The crowd seems to sense the change too, their cheers now mixed with anxious murmurs.
When a break finally hits, I glance over at the cheerleaders, searching for Ella. She’s not performing now but standing at the edge, her eyes locked on the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. Her face is etched with concern—she’s obviously struggling, worried not just for Ash, but about the fact that her stunt partner might have just sidelined himself for the season.
By the time the final whistle blows, it’s a landslide victory for Whitland, but the celebration is muted. The cheer squad’s spirits are dampened, and the elation that usually follows a win feels restrained.
As the stadium clears, I linger on the field while the cheer squad gathers in their version of a huddle. Levi taps me on the shoulder, and I shake myself out of it, rejoining my own team for a lackluster debrief.
Coach Wallace doesn’t waste a moment before diving in. His voice is sharp, cutting through the lingering noise of the locker room.
“Southern Tech should be embarrassed by that display out there,” he starts, pacing in front of us. “But you all slacked off in the second half. Just because we’re leading doesn’t mean we stop hustling. It doesn’t mean we let our guard down and our performance slip. That’s when errors happen. That’s when they take the lead from you because you’re complacent.”
Frustration builds in my chest and I chime in, unable to keep my peace, “All due respect, sir, the focus shifted with Ash’s injury. We were well ahead, and we stayed ahead.”
Coach Wallace takes that about as well as a cat takes to water. His eyes narrow, and his voice grows colder. “If you give a damn about this game, you’re not gonna lose your head over some cheerleader spraining their wrist. This isn’t playtime at kindergarten, Fox. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, the words sticking in my throat. His dismissal of Ash’s pain, reducing it to triviality, spikes my irritation, but I keep it under control. Now’s not the time.
The room gradually clears, the rest of the team eager to leave the charged air behind. And I’m left there, standing alone, the echo of Coach’s words gnawing at me.
The showers are empty, so I strip off my damp jersey and step under the hot spray, letting it wash over me. It’s scalding, almost painful, but I let it beat down on my back, hoping it’ll wash away the tension beneath my skin.
As steam fills the room, my thoughts drift back to Ella.We’re not together, far from it, just two people who are fiercely attracted to each other. But seeing the panic on her face today, how she looked when Ash went down, I feel rattled.
I turn off the shower and grab a towel, the rough fabric scratching against my skin not enough to distract me. I need to check on her. It’s not about crossing lines or pushing boundaries this time. It’s about giving a damn, about making sure she’s alright.
It’s late, way past the decent hour for social calls, and the dim glow from the hallway light flickers as I stand at her apartment door. I knock, a sound that seems too loud in the quiet of the night.
The door swings open, and it’s Gabi who greets me, leaning against the frame with that all-knowing smirk. “I don’t think our girl is in the mood tonight,” she says, eyeing me like she can read my every intention.
“That’s not why I’m here,” I reply quickly, my hands shoved in my pockets. “Just want to check in, make sure she’s okay.”
She raises a skeptical brow. “Shouldn’t you be checking on Ash, then? He’s the injured one.”
“He isn’t my concern.” It’s not that I don’t care about him being injured, but Ash’s well-being isn’t my priority. He’s not the reason I can’t think straight lately. He’s not the person occupying my every thought.
“And Ella is?”
I press my lips together, rubbing the back of my neck. “Is she here, Gabs?”
“Oh, fine,” she says, her sigh dripping with mock disappointment. “I can see that you truly do care about her. I’ll go grab her for you.”
Gabi disappears, leaving me alone with the sound of my own uneven breathing. Minutes crawl by before Ella appears. She pads out in pajamas and slippers, her eyes rimmed red, cheeks puffy. There’s a stinging sensation behind my eyes, a tightness in my chest I hadn’t anticipated.
“Why are you here?” she asks, voice brittle, arms wrapped tightly around herself like a shield.
“How are you?” I ask, my voice low.
“Just peachy, Hudson. Really.” Her sarcasm slices through the tension, but her voice breaks just enough to show her facade is cracking.
I step closer, lowering my voice even more. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”
“Broken wrist,” she confirms, each word seeming to cost her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll pass along your condolences.”
