Page 148 of Redemption
I hold my breath, waiting as Tanner makes it to the ten, the five, TOUCHDOWN.
He crosses the line.
And at the same moment, I see it coming—a big defense linebacker taking one last chance to make the play. His body is already in motion when Tanner crosses the plane. There’s no stopping it, and Tanner doesn’t see it coming. The lineman’s helmet collides with Tanner’s from the side, knocking his head to an angle that makes me sick to my stomach.
The crowd goes quiet, and I throw my clipboard to the ground, rushing to Tanner before he’s even hit the crowd.
He’s still—unnaturally still.
What have I done?
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I hate the hospital.
I don’t have to come here often for my job, but when I do, I keep my eyes on the floor and avoid looking around.
Sitting in the waiting room of the emergency room, I do the same.
I’m leaning forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the ground. MJ sits beside me, tears streaking down her face. I should reach out and comfort her, but I can’t bring myself to move. I’m stuck in a memory of the past—reliving my worst nightmare.
After Tanner was hit, the medical staff rushed out with a stretcher and a neck brace. They didn’t want to jostle him too much based on the injury he sustained. We’re looking at least another concussion—if not more. The doctors are doing testing now.
I can’t get this sick feeling out of my stomach that I should have pushed harder—done more for him. We wouldn’t be sitting here if I had.
“Hayes,” MJ says my name, but my head feels like it’s underwater.
I can’t breathe.
I haven’t been able to breathe since I watched that lineman’s helmet slam into Tanner’s.
The memory keeps playing on replay in my head, and I can’t turn it off.
“Hayes. It wasn’t your fault.”
They are the words that pierce through the water, bringing all my emotions to a boiling point.
Shoving out of my chair, I tower over her.
“It is, MJ. It is my fault. I called that play. I knew if he took one more hit to the head, we could end up here, and I played him anyway. This whole time, I’ve been telling him that football isn’t everything, and I played him anyway.”
MJ looks up at me, her bottom lip wobbling.
“What do you mean you knew one more hit could land him here?”
My chest feels like it’s caving in.
I’ve messed up once again.
I never ended up telling MJ about the physicals. I was going to, but after I realized Tanner’s parents wouldn’t listen, I didn’t want to worry her.
And that’s exactly what she would have done.
But now we are here, and it will look like I lied to her.
“Listen,” I say, pushing my fingers through my hair, “about a week ago, I brought your dad in to do some physicals for the boys. I did it for Tanner because I thought if your dad found something, his parents would have to listen. But it didn’t go the way I wanted. Your dad made sure they knew that the next injury could be worse if Tanner took another hit to the head. But since nothing was wrong with him then, he couldn’t technically advise against playing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She swallows, pain flashing in her eyes, and I would do a million things differently just to avoid this moment.
