Page 75 of Wicked Scorn
“Eighty-seven, you okay?” The ref’s face swims into view above me, concern etched into his weathered features.
“Does it look like I’m okay?” I snap, sarcasm a weak defense against the frustration boiling up inside me.
Gritting my teeth, I start to push myself upright. But a meaty hand clamps down on my good shoulder, holding me in place.
“Stay down, JB.” The gruff voice of Coach cuts through the chaos. “We’re getting you looked at.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me with a glare. Grinding my jaw, I force myself to nod again. No point arguing when he uses that tone.
Footsteps approach, and I glance up to see the team doctor kneeling beside me. His mouth is moving, but I can’t make out the words over the pounding in my ears. I catch the gist though—up you go, to the locker room.
Graham helps haul me to my feet, keeping a steadying grip on my good side as we make our way off the field. I glance over my shoulder at the stands, at Oakley watching me with those big blue eyes, her brow furrowed with worry.
Our eyes lock, and I give her a reassuring nod. Mouthing ‘I’m fine. This is nothing.’
Those words are meant for her, but they’re just as much a reminder for myself. I’ve played through worse. Shaking it off, I turn my focus forward again.
My leg screams with each step, but I push through, leaning on my brother to help me in this fucking tunnel.
The locker room is mercifully quiet when we enter, the door swinging shut to block out the roar of the crowd. Graham guides me over to one of the benches and eases me down onto it.
“I got it from here,” the doctor says, already pulling out his stethoscope and other gear. “Thanks, Graham.”
I stare at my brother, not saying a word, but his slight nod tells me everything. He gets it. Gets me. And more importantly, he gets what Oakley means to me. Because if anyone touches a hair on her head, there’ll be hell to pay. And not even the old man would be able to rein in the hurricane I’d unleash.
Doc lays me down on the table and one of his assistants comes over and they work my fucking game pants down so he can prod at my thigh and as soon as he does, I grit my teeth against the flare of pain.
“Looks like you took a good hit out there,” he mutters. “We’ll get some ice on it, but I want you to hit the showers first. Rinse off and change out of those clothes.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off with a shake of his head.
“You’re not going back out there today. Not with that leg. You’re too important. So rinse off and I’ll take another look before you head out.”
Clenching my jaw, I give a terse nod. He’s not wrong. There’s no way Coach will let me back on the field after that hit. Not with so little time left in the game, anyway. It’s not worth the risk of further injury.
The sound of the shower is a welcome relief as I step under the steaming spray. I tilt my head back, letting the heat soak into my aching muscles. Grabbing the soap, I work up a lather and start scrubbing away the sweat and grime.
“Jeremiah!”
The shrill cry cuts through the rush of water, and my head whips around at her voice.
I barely have time to react before she comes barrelingthrough the door, eyes wide and frantic as they find me. A member of the stadium staff is hot on her heels, face pinched in disapproval.
“Miss, you can’t be in here! This is the players’ locker room!”
But Oakley pays him no mind. She crosses the space in a few quick strides and reaches for me, her small hands roaming over my chest and arms as if to reassure herself that I’m in one piece. I step out of the spray so she doesn’t get all wet.
“Are you okay, baby?” she breathes, those blue eyes searching mine. “I saw you go down and I…I got so scared.”
The panic in her voice, the genuine concern etched across her delicate features. It’s like a soothing balm on my riled-up soul. She’s really fucking worried about me.
My arms come around her without thought, pulling her against my damp skin in a fierce embrace. She melts into me with a shuddering sigh, her fingers clutching at the muscles of my back.
“I’m okay,” I murmur against the top of her head, breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of her shampoo. “Just a little banged up, that’s all. No one can touch me now that I have you back, bunny. I know what it’s like to live without you, and because of that nothing else could ever hurt me.”
“You’re sure?” She pulls back just enough to look up at me, eyes searching my face. “You went down so hard, I thought…”
Her voice cracks, and I tighten my arms around her, a low rumble building in my chest.
