Page 80 of Overtime
“The fuck?”
“You know how she is. Everything that isn’t what she grew up with is wrong in her eyes.”
“That’s fucked.”
“Yup, and I think it might mean I’ve lost my chance where Joss is concerned. She just had me take her back to your place when dinner was over.”
“You have tonight to talk to her. When we go to dinner, or after—tell her.”
“I know. I will. I just hope she’ll still listen.”
FORTY-THREE
Joss
I’m sittingin the box with Harper, Violet, and Mackenzie for today’s game—this time on a ticket Colt provided and wearing his jersey as promised. I’m trying to be lighthearted and pretend like everything’s fine. I still haven’t told Violet the details of what happened, and I definitely don’t intend to tell Harper or Mackenzie. I’m not even sure I can muster the courage to tell Violet at the moment.
Everything about the situation hurts. That there are tabloid photos he has to explain, that his mother not only thought I looked like a prostitute but was pressed enough to call him and leave a voicemail over it, and that I awkwardly had to listen to it. I’d been so stupidly hopeful before. I was all ready to confess everything to him. Pour my heart out and just let him decide. I hadn’t even thought about what the consequences of having me as a girlfriend would be for him. I’d just been thinking about how much I wanted him. How much I loved him. That maybe we could finally be something.
Now, I barely want to be at this game. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know some future version of me will appreciate the memories—being with Violet and the rest of these badass women, watching him play the game he loves the most—I wouldn’t be here at all.
I stare down at the field, watching as they line up for another play. They’re doing well today for as much as I understand about the plays. They’re up fourteen points, and it’s not even halftime yet. Every shot the camera gets of him, he’s smiling and patting his guys on the back for a job well done. And now they’re about to score again, closing in on the end zone while the crowd roars to life after every play and quiets again as he gets ready to throw.
But this time when he steps back, he falters a bit, struggling to find someone open to throw to and his eyes are glued to the far side of the field when the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life happens. A guy from the opposing team has an open line to him, and he’s running like he’s a cannonball fired directly at him. He slams into him, and the ball goes flying at the same moment Colt slams into the turf.
The hit is brutal, and I have to look away for a minute. I don’t normally shy away from violence but it’s a different story when it’s your loved one out there getting smashed into the ground. When I look back, I expect to see Colt slowly but surely rising to his feet again. Just like he always does when he gets hit. But he doesn’t move.
The rest of the team has taken off down to the other side of the field, chasing after the ball the other team recovered. But Colt just lays there.
“Violet?” I ask, reaching out for her arm, my voice high-pitched.
I watch as I see Ben approaching Colt, going down on one knee to look at him and then quickly signaling for the Phantom staff to come off the sideline.
“Violet!” I start to feel the tears coming and her arms wrap around me.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. He might just have the wind knocked out of him.”
“He’s not fucking moving, Vi.”
Ben takes his helmet off and kneels next to him while the trainers rush onto the field, and I look to Violet for answers. I can feel the anxiety zipping up my spine, the tears clawing at my throat, and I grip her arm tighter. Everyone in the box has gone quiet, and several people have moved forward to stare at what’s happening on the field. As the rest of the stadium catches on to what’s happening it goes quieter too, a rumble of whispers rattling through it, and more of Colt’s teammates come back to kneel in a circle around him.
The trainers start moving in, making it impossible to see what’s going on, and the cameras that were trained on him for a moment on the big screens switch to other views. One pops up a cartoon of a mascot running across the field, and I glare at it.
“Tell me it’s not what I think, Violet.”
“I’m sure he’s fine. Sometimes it looks a lot worse than it is. That’s why the medical staff is down there though. He’s in good hands whatever it is. It’s probably something simple like the wind being knocked out of him. Or he tweaked something and doesn’t want to move until they assess it. That’s happened a few times with Ben.” Her voice stays calm and level as she talks, and that gives me a little bit of reassurance. Like maybe I’m overreacting to what I’m seeing. She’s here week after week watching them play and has witnessed scenes like this a million times. If she’s calm, I’m calm.
Then I make the mistake of looking at Ben. He runs a hand through his hair, and I watch as Waylon, Mackenzie’s husband, and another good friend of his, walks over to talk to him. He shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face again as Waylon pats him on the back and kneels beside him. Ben looks worried. Ben doesn’t look calm, and I look to Violet again as she exchanges looks with Mackenzie.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Just tell me, Violet.”
“I don’t know, Joss.” Her grip around me tightens and we hug each other as we stand there.
The next fewminutes drag on and fly by at the same time. It’s a blur of staff, announcements that there is a delay due to a medical issue, and then I watch as they bring a stretcher onto the field. My heart takes off at a million miles an hour like it’s running a race all by itself, and it feels like it’s going to tear straight out of my chest. They slide the board down, and I take a step forward, like somehow, I’ll be able to see around all the staff and see his face from up here.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, the tears starting to sting my cheeks. “He has to be all right, Violet.”
“Joss, don’t worry too much yet okay?” Mackenzie gives me a sympathetic look because right now Violet is as shell-shocked as I am.
