Page 42 of Spark
Needing to soothe his worries, I attempt a smile. "I don’t need an ambulance. Or the hospital. I just need to go home and lay down for a few hours. Tell Cam not to call."
"No. No way." Each word is discharged with devastating speed. "You have to get checked out."
Despite the amount of pain I’m in, I’m ready to protest going that far. An ambulance trip isn’t cheap. Neither are emergency room copays, x-rays, and CT scans. More bills are the last thing I need right now. "I’ll be fine. Some rest and pain relievers will fix me. If something still hurts in a week or two, I’ll go to the doctor."
"Aweekor two? No. There could be internal injuries. You could have a fractured skull. Or worse. Youcan’twait." He shoves a shaking hand through his hair. He’stremblingin worry for me, and guilt smacks me harder than the hit that took me down. His eyes turn pleading. "Damn it, Mateo. Don’t do this to me. We’re going to the fucking hospital."
I have a feeling that agreeing to go is the only thing that will remove Finlay’s fear. Maybe he’s thinking about when Hercules got hurt, and the resulting concussion and the extent of the bone break. I don’t want to argue with him or for him to be pissed at me. And the more I think about his words, about what could be wrong, the more scared I become. I think I have a concussion. I’m worried about possible broken bones. And worse. Like that the pain in my neck is increasing and the pain in my head is bad enough that I want to cry and I might throw up. "Okay. Okay, I’ll go."
He takes hold of my right hand and gently squeezes. "Thank you."
I concentrate on the warmth of Finlay’s fingers against my face and the way his other hand is wrapped snug around mine.
The distant wailing of a siren gives me a shard of hope. It’s probably too soon to be the one meant for me, but I wish it is anyway. I’m in pain, so much pain. I don’t know how I’m going to go into work tonight, but I can’t miss two nights in a row. Maybe the hospital will give me decent pain meds. I try and fail to remember the cost of my emergency room copay.
Owen stands. "I’m going to wait on the opposite corner in case the ambulance comes that way. Then I can flag them down. Don’t move, Teo. Help is on the way."
"I’ve got you." Finlay trails his hand from my cheek to my hair. "I’ll stay with you, here and at the hospital."
"Thank you." I tighten my hold of his hand. Finlay’s presence brings me comfort, but I wish he hadn’t come to watch the match today. I don’t want him to see me like this. I wish I could rewind time so I could choose a different route or release the ball faster and avoid the tackle, so I wouldn’t be in pain, and so I wouldn’t be lying here as the center of attention for the worst possible reason.
The sun is beating down on us. I’m so warm and clouds of sleepiness are settling into my head. I close my eyes. Every breath still hurts.
The pressure of Finlay’s fingers on my skin increases. "Don’t go to sleep. If you have a concussion, you need to stay awake."
I force my eyes to open and meet his gaze. "I won’t sleep."
I don’t know if I can keep that promise. But for Finlay, I’ll try.
Chapter Eleven
Finlay
“Doyouwantmeto stay with you?” I grasp Mateo’s hand in both of mine. There’s a glaze to his gaze that I don’t like. I want to stay because I’m unsure how much of what the doctor tells him he’ll be able to take in. But, if he prefers I step outside the exam area when the doctor shows up, I will.
I won’t like it, but I’ll do it for Mateo.
“You don’t have to.” A scrunch of pain takes purchase of his dirt-smudged face as he tries to reposition himself on the hospital bed.
I help him shift the pillow, taking in his stilted movements. My nerves are fraying faster than Gran’s sweater the time she snagged it on a loose screw on a set. By the end of the act, her midriff was bared for the entire audience. After seeing Mateo get hit by not one but two guys and helplessly watching his head smash into the ground—the collision happening in slow-motion and hyper-speed simultaneously—my heart is still pounding at warp speed. The desperation to make sure he’ll be okay sends my stomach into a churning nauseous mess.
“I know I don’t have to.” At the abruptness of my words, Mateo stops pulling at the flimsy gown he was instructed to put on. Purple bruises already paint his copper skin a dark and disturbing picture. I soften my tone. “What I mean…” I pick a tuft of grass and dirt from the side of his head and chuck it into the waste bin in the corner. “I’d be more than happy to stay with you, but I don’t want to force myself on you. You won’t hurt my feelings one way or the other.” Gently, I trail the back of my fingers along the side of his handsome face. He didn’t shave this morning. The scruff of his beard is softer than last night, tickling my knuckles ever so slightly.
Grasping my wrist, he brings my palm to his lips. “Stay.”
There’s a tap against the wall before the cloth screen slides open. A petite woman in green scrubs and a white coat enters. “Mr. Rossi Ayala?”
“Yes.” Mateo lowers my hand but continues to clasp it. I’m not sure if it’s more for him or me, but I’m not complaining. His touch is grounding, keeping me from drowning in twenty-five-year-old guilt.
The doctor does a visual before glancing at her iPad and moving farther into the room. “I’m Dr. Phan. You were playing rugby and took a hard hit.”
I bite my lip to keep from interjecting thathard hitis a paltry description of what Mateo experienced. His feet literally left the ground, and his entire body flew through the air like he was in a superhero action movie.
“Knocked the wind out of me.”
Unable to keep silent, I add, “You blacked out also.”
He squeezes my hand. “Not long, but I did have a few moments where I was unconscious.”
