Page 42 of False Start
They set up for their second play, and just before he settled into position, Weston turned around and pointed directly at us.
“He’s playing for you,” Ridley murmured, her excited energy bubbling out of her in waves.
This time, as Christian took the snap, the running back bolted right, acting as decoy as Christian dumped the ball off to Weston. He caught the pass and broke through the defensive line.
“Oh my god! Yes!” I screamed, jumping to my feet along with half the stadium as Weston outpaced the opposition. For a minute, I thought he would run all the way and score a touchdown himself, but as the Generals players closed in, he tossed the ball back to a wide receiver. Weston disappeared under a mountain of players as his team mate took off down the field and slammed the ball into the ground as he crossed the end zone. The celebration was deafening as Engines fans screamed their approval. It had been difficult for everyone to watch our offense struggle in the last couple of games. I grinned at my friends, expecting to see the same excitement on their faces.
“What?” I asked, noting their silence.
Cami’s face was pale, and as I looked back at the field, I noticed a strange hush taking over the stadium. The entire offensive line had huddled around something on the field, and as I craned to see what everyone else had, my stomach dropped as I realized they were standing around the position I’d last seen Weston.
“No.” I climbed onto my chair, trying to get high enough to see. Surely he was amongst the players standing around. He was fine. I just had to find him.
Medical staff ran onto the field carrying a stretcher, and my gut churned as I caught sight of long strands of blond hair along the ground in between the players' boots.
“Weston!” Ridley and Cami caught me as I lurched forward, forgetting I was on a chair. I sagged to the floor between them as the players continued to mill around.
After what felt like a lifetime, Weston got to his feet, supported on both sides by his team mates as he cradled his arm close to his chest.
“He’s injured his shoulder again,” Cami muttered, her voice thick with empathy.
“Let’s have a round of applause for number eighty-two, Weston Naylor, folks!” the announcer called as Weston stumbled toward the edge of the field.
The clapping was deafening as I sank into my chair, unsure whether I should go to him or wait here.
“We’ll meet them at the hospital. Come on.” Cami ushered me out of the suite and didn’t let go of my arm until we’d reached her car in the parking lot. “You think you’re alright to stand?” she asked, easing her hand away like she expected to have to catch me.
“I’m fine. Just worried about him. Let’s go.”
The drive to the hospital passed in an overwhelming flood of worry with Cami repeatedly assuring me we would stay until wewere sure he was alright. Even if it meant camping out in the hospital all night.
“Marina is taking the girls home and promised to send Ridley in with supplies,” she assured me as we navigated the sterile corridors of the hospital. The only bright side so far had been a nurse who recognized me as Weston’s girlfriend and pointed us in the right direction. Turned out fame could sometimes come in handy.
After a few more turns, we arrived in a waiting room where we were told we couldn’t go any further until we had advice from his attending physician. The nurse invited us to take a seat while we waited, but refused to give us any information about Weston.
“We just want to know if he’s all right,” I insisted, struggling to contain my anxiety as visions of medical complications turned my stomach. What if he went into surgery and never came out?
“Gia, sit down. Coach Laudner will be able to find out what’s happening when he arrives,” Cami said, stretching out in one of the plastic chairs lining the wall. I let out an unimpressed humph, but settled in next to her to wait.
“Gia,wake up. He’s asking for you.”
I jolted awake, wincing as pain shot through my neck from the awkward position I’d fallen asleep in.
“Weston?”
“He’s out of surgery and asking to see you. Will you go in?” The dark smudges under Cami’s eyes spoke of the hours we’d waited for news of Weston’s condition. The waiting room we sat in was filled with the huge bodies of the entire Chicago Engines team spread out over every available surface.
I pushed out of my seat and picked my way through the bodies to where a woman in a white coat stood in the doorway.
“He’s in room five, at the end of the hall on the right. He’s still a little drowsy, so be patient with him.”
I nodded at her and tried to keep myself to a walk as I approached his room.
The astringent scent of antiseptic burned my nostrils as I stepped into Weston’s room. The steady beeping of a heart rate monitor was both comforting and unsettling. In the center of the room, Weston lay shirtless beneath the sheets, his shoulder wrapped in layers of bandages. My heart skipped as tired hazel eyes flipped over to me.
“Hey you,” I said gently, moving over to the chair set up beside his bed.
“Hey yourself. I wasn’t sure you were here.”
