“Huh.” Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms in front of me. “Do you have a crush?”
“What?” she almost shrieks. “No. No way! I’ve seen that man date all kinds of women in the short time I’ve got to know him. He’s a friend, but I wouldn’t set him up with one of my friends, and I for sure would not date him. He gets around.”
“Okay, just checking in. Not that I would mind if you had one,” I say with a chuckle, my eyes landing on Stacey again. “At least you watch the game and don’t post selfies the whole time.”
“No, not yet,” she teases, waving her hands in the air. “Anyway, we should talk about something more fun, like your upcoming wedding. I love a spring wedding!”
Grinning, I glance at my engagement ring as I settle back into the plush seat of the VIP box, the excitement in the air palpable and snapping with electricity as the game picks up speed right in front of us with the timer beginning to countdown. The stadium buzzes with energy, the crowd roaring with every play.
From my vantage point, the field is spread out in front of us, almost like a vibrant tapestry. The players may be mere specks in the distance, but I can make out Levi’s position. Pride wells inside of me for him. His team is down in points and probably won’t win this game, but that’s fine. He’s my forever MVP.
I follow the ball’s trajectory, watching the madness unfold, my heart racing with each pass and tackle. Then, a sudden hush falls over the crowd as a clash between the teams forces a pile-up. A whistle blows, players untangling themselves, stepping away with arms waving in the air. There’s an intensity to their actions that signals something more foreboding.
A player is down.
My heart leaps to my throat as I stand, clawing at the glass, my eyes meeting Mary’s across the room as we both try to hide our worry.
Snapping my focus back to the field, I look for Levi’s number among the throng of people and finally, I’m rewarded when I see him. Only he’s rushing and pushing himself through the small crowd gathered around the man down.
“Oh, my…” Bex grabs my hand, her hand flying to her mouth as a chill whips across my body. “It’s Austin. He’s injured.”
Time seems to slow as medics rush onto the field. Panic grips me as I watch them attend to Austin, my mind swirling with fear and worry. In a moment, Mary’s hand is on my other arm.
“Come with me, please?” She looks over at Lorna, who sits with Duncan. The two women have a silent exchange that’s all-knowing. Motherly. “They’ll wait here. I don’t feel good about this and want to be in the locker room when they bring him off the field.”
I don’t say a word. I take Mary’s hand and lead her toward the exit, stopping by Stacey’s seat as I do. The kicker is that I have to get her attention, she’s busy posting a TikTok. My eyes want to roll to the back of my head, and I fight the urge to take the phone from her hands and throw it onto the field.
“Austin’s injured. Are you coming?” I should try to engage more, but I don’t have the energy.
Stacey looks around the room, peeking out onto the field for a moment before turning her attention back to me. “Ummm, is it cool if I stay here? Maybe text me and I’ll meet you guys when you know how he’s doing?”
Mary’s grip on my hand tightens as my jaw goes slack. I’m frozen with a touch of anger gluing me to my spot, but thankfully, Bex is here.
“Come on,” she says, opening the door that leads out to the hall. “I’ll walk you guys down and see if I can help get you any news.”
Turning away from the now silent room, which was full of excitement and enthusiasm mere moments ago, the three of us headed downstairs to the belly of the stadium.
Bex
Today was supposed to be a day of celebration; either one Porter or the other was walking off this field a champion. The media had a field day in the run up to the game with Porter versus Porter headlines, but they made it this far. That, in itself, is incredible. They’rebothchampions. On the field and off, but that’s just my opinion.
The hallway outside the Thunderbolts locker room is charged with anxiety. I hurry ahead of Georgie and Mary, hoping to find someone, anyone, from Austin’s team who can tell us what’s going on. All the while, my head is still trying its best to wrap itself around the fact that his girlfriend couldn’t even be bothered to come with us.
I’ve seen it before. The hanger-oners are what we called them when I was in Los Angeles. Working in the entertainment industry, you get all types of people. Hanger-oners are the people who like to be close to the people who gettheattention, the stars of the show. Only in this case, it’s the football player. Thanks to Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce for making it even cooler to date a guy in the NFL, but like adopting a pet, it’s something you have to think about. There’s a lot that comes with it…sadly, more times than not, these attention bunnies, as I like to call them, are in it for the wrong reasons.
An official-looking man wearing a team jacket jogs past me. When I see him stop at the locker room door, I make a move.
“Excuse me,” I call out, pointing to the door. “I’m with Austin Porter’s family. Is he inside? Can we see him?”
The older man stares at me, his face etched with worry as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t even take his family to him right now. He’s about to be transported by ambulance to the hospital.”
A blast of ice water courses through me. “Can I ask what’s going on?”
Behind me, the sound of footsteps slowing to a stop alertsme that Mary and Georgie have caught up to me. The man’s focus rocks to each of us as he takes a big breath, looking at Mary.
“Mrs. Porter,” the man murmurs, recognizing Austin’s mother. “Austin’s injured his knee. We’re not sure how bad it is, but he can’t stand on his own.”
Mary’s hand flies to her mouth as Georgie holds her. I’m fighting a swell of emotions, ones I’m certainly not expecting to surface right now and they’re ones I don’t have time to deal with. I do not have any time to unpack feelings that may or may not be rising to the surface for Austin.
