Page 50 of Nailing Heat
And we do exactly that for most of the game. We hold them back until that same player who took me down earlier comes barreling through the line with the ball.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I say as I get ready for her to challenge her when she enters my space.
I ready myself for the head-to-head attack that will take place, moving quickly towards her and taking her ankle away so that she cannot keep going for the goal. I cut in an attempt to take the ball off her foot. When I do and the ball gets free, her hands are on my shoulders, pushing me downward. I twist my body to brace for the fall that I know is coming. The player lands on top of me with so much force, it sends my left knee twisting in a direction that is opposite of how it should be.
A shooting pain is finding its way through my knee. The girl gets up and rolls away from me, standing. I roll around on the turf, clutching my knee.
“Fuck!” I cry out. I know I shouldn’t - it’s a card if the ref should decide to - but I don’t care. I’ve never felt this much pain before. “I need Dex!” I call out to anyone who might hear me.
“Trainer!” I hear shouts coming from my teammates. I don’t even bother to open my eyes. I lie there grasping my knee, trying to control my breathing and my sobs. All the while I’m thinking that this can’t be it. This injury can’t be any worse than the last one.
But with the amount of shooting pain I’m feeling, I know that’s not the case. I roll onto my back and try one last time. “Dex!” I call out holding onto my knee and sobbing.
“He’s coming! He’s coming!” I hear someone, maybe Hendrix, telling me. I can’t focus on whose the voice is with the way my knee is throbbing right now.
I feel him at my side before I see him. “I’m here, I’m here, Amelia. You’re going to be all right.”
Chapter Eighteen
~DEX~
Idon’t why I promised her that everything would be alright before I even laid a hand on her, assessed her knee or checked for swelling. I only knew two things; one, it was Amelia that was lying there bawling like that, and two, that she was in a lot of pain.
“I’m going to check out your knee,” I tell her, leaning over her and moving her hand away. I can feel the team closing in around me. I tell everyone to give us some space, but no one is moving. I find Mac in the crowd and call to her, “Mac! Can you back everyone up?”
She nods vigorously and I can see the worry written all over her face. But she guides the team away from Amelia and tells them to stand back.
Coach Watts jogs out onto the field. “What’s the prognosis?”
I sigh. “I have no idea. But she’s swelling already, so that is not a good sign. I need to get her off this field to really examine her.”
Watts nods and gets up to talk to the ref who is standing nearby. I look around and then back to Amelia. Her face is tear-stricken, and the tears keep on coming. I hate this. There’s an ache building in my chest because I know she is in so much pain.The last hit that she took didn’t take her out like this. And I keep hearing her call for me.
She called for me.
It makes me think she needed me and not just because I am the trainer but because she was hurt and I am the one who can comfort her. God, I hope I can fix it. I don’t want to be the one who has to tell her that something in that knee is hurt to the point that it will take her out for the rest of the season and playoffs. Although from what I can tell, it’s a definite possibility.
I look around the field and see that Lucas isn’t coming with the cart. Before I took off to the field, I radioed to him that we had an injured player, and she would have to be taken off by the cart. Normally, it’s at the field but it was used to transport an elderly person to the parking lot. I can’t wait anymore.
“Fuck it,” I say to no one. “Amelia, I’m going to pick you up now, okay? I’m taking you to the training room, so I can see this knee better and we can get some ice on it immediately.”
Slowly and carefully, I lift her up off of the turf. I hear someone shout my name, but I don’t give a fuck. She’s getting off this field and onto my table. Amelia is still quietly sobbing as I carry her.
“It’s going to be okay, Amelia, I’ve got you.” I move briskly across the field, feeling the whole stadium’s eyes on me as we go into the tunnel and into my training room.
“Langley! Wait for the cart!” I hear who I think is Coach Watts screaming after me.
But I don’t care. I don’t stop moving across the field. I need to get her to my table so that she can stretch out, place some ice on it and try to get her comfortable enough to move it around.
“It hurts so bad,” she moans in my arms.
It’s not the type of moan that I like to hear from women because this one pains me. I’m worried something is torn inside that knee. It would make sense given the screams and the agonized look on her face.
“We are almost there, and I can look and see if I can give you something to take the edge off of that pain.”
“You’re not a doctor,” she reminds me, choking out the words. Her hair is all sweaty and matted from playing. But her brow is drawn tight, in pain and her hands have never let her knee. She keeps holding it.
I look down into her vulnerable brown eyes, and I feel my own heart breaking for this poor girl. Her face is contorted in pain. I’d do anything to make that go away right now.
