Page 97 of Scoring Zone
“Sunshine?” My voice sounds distant as I keep my eyes shut and fumble around for him.
“I’m here.” Gray kneels beside me, cradling my face.
“Don’t take my sunshine away,” I sing and giggle.
“Is he going to be okay?” Lori asks.
“Lori? You came to visit?” I squint at her but can’t fully open my eyes.
“You betcha, big bro.”
“Can you swallow these pills?” Gray asks, and his smile lights up the room when I do.
The next time I wake up, we’re in bed.
“Hey, what’s the date?” he asks. The question throws me off, and I stare at him. “Okay, sleepyhead, I’ll start easy. What’s your name?”
“Austin Powers Lapointe,” I answer.
“Close enough.” He laughs. “What’s my name?”
“G Sunshine Ward.” I pat his face. “Why are you asking me?”
“Sorry, Tinny, but you have a concussion.”
“No, I don’t.”
I wake again to bright lights and Doc talking to Grayson. “What’s going on?” I ask.
“How much do you remember about last night?” Doc asks.
I sit up, thankful I’m not naked. Gray wouldn’t call Doc if one of us suffered a sex injury. “Umm.”
“It was Pride Night,” Grayson prompts.
“My head hurts.” I rub my temples.
“It’s only been three hours,” Gray says to Doc.
“His pupils look good, so if he stays awake for an hour, give him more acetaminophen; otherwise, promptly when he wakes up again.” Doc turns to me. “You had us worried. It’s good to see you awake.”
I tilt my head; my brain has a hard time processing his words.
I am literally on the sites that make fun of people coming out of anesthesia, but my actions weren’t from a drug but confusion. Gray blames himself for not being there, but he was doing his job. Despite my protests, I apparently have a severe concussion. Grayson panicked when my symptoms didn’t get better the next day and took me to the hospital for an MRI. No brain bleeds or swelling, just me acting like a moron.
Lori stayed the night with us but had to leave for work. Gray assured her I’d be fine. Fine is relative, if you ask me.
“He’s seen it,” Gray whispers to King as he lets him into our apartment.
“I’m not deaf,” I grumble. After I took the hit in the game, I got up and skated to the bench, and no one noticed anything was wrong until I started yelling “Sunshine” and toppled over the wall onto the ice.
The reputable news outlets are using the incident to warn of the dangers of concussions, but social media has turned me into a meme. To make matters worse, neither Kenney nor I will recover in time for the playoffs.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower,” Gray announces, and leaves the room.
“I don’t need a babysitter while he’s in the shower.” I fold my arms across my chest like a child.
“Actually, I came to thank you. We talked on the phone yesterday, but I’m not sure if you remember our conversation.” King sits on the other end of the couch.
