Page 36 of Wild Card
So now I’m just curled up in the corner, listening to the chaos around me as everyone tries to decide their plans for the evening. Who needs to go home and shower, who hasn’t eaten, where his brother and his brother’s wife who came straight from the airport after a short flight up from California are going to stay for the night. How and if they’ll get back in time for the Monday night game he’s supposed to be playing in California.
I haven’t officially met him yet, but anyone could spot Tobias’s brother, Easton, from a mile away if you’d ever seen him. It helps that I watch a lot of football and knew the Westfield brothers and their father from all the Sundays of my past. But it’d be hard not recognize them as brothers anyway.
A nurse walks in then, reminding all of us that it’s past visiting hours and there’s nothing we can do from the waiting room.
“But one of us can stay with him, right?” his brother’s wife asks.
“Yes. He’s in the private wing so up to two of you can stay in the room as long as you’re signed in and on the approved list. But that’s it. The rest of you really should go home. Get sleep. Come back during visiting hours. He’s stable now. He just needs rest.”
“The guys really need to get home and get sleep. They’ve got a game in less than twenty-four hours.” Easton looks to his wife.
“Yes, but you have one in a little more than that. We need to at least find a place to stay. Get a room.”
“I’d offer to let you stay with us,” Ben offers. “And it’s open if you want, but we’re not very close to the hospital.”
“Tobias has a place close by, doesn’t he?” Easton looks to Xander.
“Yeah. Same building as us. But I don’t have the key right now, and not sure where he has it. You can stay with us though. I have a guest room.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Absolutely.” Harper nods.
“All right. We won’t be there much. Just to get settled and changed. Maybe get food before we come back.”
“So who’s staying?” Waylon asks. “I’d do it, but I’ve got to get back. And Mac has the kids.”
I realize looking at the room that everyone either needs to get back because they’re playing tomorrow, or they had more than their fair share to drink tonight because they weren’t playing tomorrow and were enjoying the alcoholic offerings at the engagement party.
“I’ll stay,” I say it before I know what I’m doing. Harper turns abruptly to look at me.
“Are you sure?”
“I mean, at least until his family can get food and get settled. I can stay until you all come back. Sit with him for a few hours,” I offer, suddenly feeling very awkward when everyone looks at me. To all of them, I’m a virtual stranger to Tobias. Someone he only knows in passing because of Harper and Xander. We’re more acquaintances than friends really in their eyes.
“That could work.” Xander shrugs as he looks around.
“He’ll probably be sleeping the whole time. But are you sure you don’t mind?” Easton’s wife asks me.
“I’m sure. I don’t mind. He knows me well enough, and if you give me your number, I can text or call if something comes up. And I can text Xander and Harper too,” I answer softly, trying to respect the fact that it’s so late and lots of patients are probably trying to sleep. Not expecting a celebrity patient to have a small entourage in the waiting room for him.
“Thank you, so much. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name?” Easton reaches out a hand.
I stand and take it. “Scarlett. Nice to meet you, minus the circumstances.”
“I’m Easton’s wife, Wren.” She holds out her hand.
We exchange quiet smiles and then numbers before everyone scurries off to make things right in the rest of the world and then come back to the hospital to be with Tobias.
* * *
When they showme to his room the lights are already dim and he’s asleep, the monitors blink and hum in the dull light, and I glance at the nurse.
“He’s out. Probably for the night. Trauma has taken a lot out of him, and we’ve given him meds so he can be comfortable and get some rest. If he wakes up and needs anything, just page us, okay?”
I nod. Setting my purse and coat down on one chair, I sit in the other. He doesn’t look anything like the man I’d just seen a couple of days before. He’s covered in hospital blankets and bandages, propped up with pillows. What little I can see of his face is swollen, and I don’t dare approach the bed to get a closer look. My stomach churns with anxiety, hoping he doesn’t wake up and wonder what I’m doing here.
I have no idea how he’ll react. If he’ll be happy I’m someone he knows, or if he’ll think I’m a psycho for sitting by his bedside imagining I’m some doting girlfriend.
