The Brotherly Shove

28. Lennon

CHAPTER 28

LENNON

Now

Santa Clara, California

"Get off me. Get the FUCK off of me!" I scream, throwing elbows at anyone who dares try to keep me away from the white cart that the medical team is currently lifting Breaker's unconscious body onto. Some guys try to hold me back, but thank god for my ridiculous body mass and the amount of time I spend working my biceps in the weight room, because I can practically flick them off me like annoying little bugs trying to suckle my blood on a summer evening.

"Griffith," I hear a thousand different voices calling my name from everywhere, but it's Coach's voice — and the shove to my stomach that practically knocks the wind out of me — that distracts me long enough to let the med team situate themselves and drive the cart off the field.

"Fuck you," I hiss, pushing past him and navigating my way through the athletes from both teams taking a respectful knee as Breaker is wheeled through the tunnel. I break into a jog to catch up with him, but I'm held up by the coaching staff, blockading me with their bodies as though we're kids at recess playing Red Rover.

"Lennon Griffith, get your ass over here right goddamn now!" Coach Elliot grabs at my shoulder, and I swear to god if Buckner hadn't showed up out of nowhere and grabbed my cocked back arm, I would have clocked the son of a bitch trying to keep me away from Breaker right in his fucking face.

"Griff, calm down, okay? I got you, man. Calm down," Buckner says quietly as he pulls me a step back, and though my skin is hot and my lungs feel like I'll never take in a full breath again, I listen to him. I let him place my arm back at my side, and though he's still holding on to me, I know that if I asked him to let go he would, and I wouldn't lunge at Coach again.

"I need to be with him," I say, as calmly as I can muster. "He's hurt, and I need to be with him."

"The fuck you do," Coach spits, and even though I was just about ready to knock his lights out, I'm still surprised by his harsh tone. "What do you need to do is sit your ass on that bench and wait for this game to be over. Then you're going into the press room and explaining away whatever the fuck that display was."

I can feel the ire coming off of him and waves, and weirdly, it's the exact catalyst I need to be able to take my first full breath in who knows how long.

“Coach, I'm sorry, I really am. But Breaker is hurt. The man I love is hurt and I need to be with him, and if you can't understand that?—”

"It's not your fucking job to be with him! Your job is to do as I say. Your job is to play football. Your job is to tell the press why you felt the fucking end zone was the perfect place to play tonsil hockey with your boyfriend! Goddammit, Griffith. You think you two could just fuck behind my back like that? You're lucky I don't bench your ass pending a formal review for keeping this whole sham a secret in the first place."

His spit hits me in the face as he yells. Tears are welling in my eyes again, and when I look up, every camera and cell phone in the general vicinity is pointed right at us. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want it all to come out like this. I didn't want to take the focus off of Breaker and his incredible athleticism. I didn't want any of this.

My chest constricts, and my breathing grows labored once again. I feel like I could pass out, like I'm one wrong step from joining Breaker in the medical tent in a separate bed instead of at his side where I belong.

Out of nowhere, a pair of soft, feminine arms snake around my body from the side, my pads making it impossible for the woman to pull me close, but she tries anyway. Coach is suddenly being hauled to his tiptoes by the collar of his hoodie by James Adler, who appeared in front of me like a mirage in a desert. I look down, and the woman holding me close is Georgie. Her fingers brush up against the sweaty patch of my stomach that is showing below my lifted jersey in a soothing, maternal way that has my heart beat slowing, if only just slightly.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are talking to my players like that Elliot, but I'm not going to stand for it. You don't threaten them, you don't bully them. You coach them, and that's it. That's all I fucking pay you to do. And for the record, Lawson and Griffith kept no secrets. They came to me. I've known that they were together, and I dealt with the situation as I saw fit. If you have a goddamn problem with that, I suggest you start perusing the want ads, because I don't tolerate shit like this in my organization, got it?"

Coach nods quickly, the kind of fast, terrified nod the scream queen gives to the killer right before he slashes her throat in the movies.

James lets Coach go, but not before giving him a slight shove that knocks him slightly unsteady on his feet. He turns towards his wife and I, reaching out and running a caress over her cheek before taking my hand in his and nodding towards the tunnel.

"C'mon, Griff. Let's go check on your man, okay?"

The walk through the stadium to the medical suite feels like an eternity, and I'm certain I would never have gotten here by myself if it hadn't been for James walking two steps in front of me while Georgie linked an arm with mine.

We reach a white door, and James nods towards it.

"He's in there. I don't have any information other than they haven't moved him yet."

I thank him, I think. I don't actually know if the words ever make it out of my mouth, but James pats me on the back anyway, taking his wife and leaving me alone to enter the room by myself. I take a deep breath before I turn the nob, and I bite my cheek to keep myself from crying —again— as I walk through the threshold.

Breaker is still in his football pants and lower pads, though he's been stripped of his jersey and other protective gear. His mom sits at his side, holding his good hand in hers. Even hovering over her son's unconscious form, Maryann Lawson is a force to be reckoned with. Her face is stoic, not a tear or a red splotch in site.

"Stop hovering and get in here, Lennon," she says sternly without taking her eyes off Breaker. I swallow a shallow breath, then take a few shaky steps forward. I don't go all the way to the bed. I can't. I stay two feet away. Any closer, and I risk throwing myself onto Breaker's body and sobbing, probably hurting him even further.

"You can't break him, Lennon. Not anymore than he already is, anyway," Maryann says, reading my mind with her mom superpowers. Still, I can't force myself to move any closer.

“Mare, Maryann, Mrs. Lawson—” I stutter, trying to figure out what to say. It's all too much. Her son has been lying to her about his personal life for weeks, and it was my fault. My idea. And I'm the one that spilled the beans in the most public manner a person can think of, completely blindsiding her and everyone else in America because I couldn't keep my goddamn lips to myself.

"Lennon, for the love of god, sit down, will ya?" Maryann finally snaps, violently nodding her head towards the chair on the other side of Breaker's bed. I feel my entire body flush red with fear, embarrassment, anticipation. I slowly make my way to the chair, and when I lower myself down, I finally let myself look at Breaker. Really, actually look at him.

He's pale. So pale, he's practically translucent. His chest is rising and falling with steady breaths, clearly being assisted by the oxygen cannula sitting in his nostrils and wrapping around his ears. His right arm is tucked into a sling, but I can still see the angry blue and purple bruises blooming over his skin. He looks so impossibly small, so vulnerable. I want nothing more than to do something. Anything. I reach a shaky hand out to touch his cheek, but the moment my fingertips brush his five o'clock shadow, I choke on a sob.

"Breaker, oh my god. Breaker, baby," I'm cut off by a shuddering cry. I shouldn't have let him back onto that field. I should have fought him harder. He was hurt, I knew he was hurt, and I let him out there anyway.

"He dislocated his shoulder, but no concussion. He was awake for a brief moment while he was wheeled back here, but he passed back out. The doctors say it's likely due to the pain. He'll be out for a bit. They gave him some heavy stuff and then sort of just…shoved it back into place. It was gnarly. Be glad you missed it."

Maryann's immovable straight face falters just a touch when recalling Breaker's medical care, and I absolutely lose it. The dam breaks, the floodgates open, and everything I've been trying and failing to hold back breaks free on a harsh cry.

"I failed you, baby," I whisper through the tears streaming down my face.

"You didn't fail him, sweetheart. You know my son as well as I do. Better, probably. I saw it, too. I saw him trying to hide the injury so he could get back out on that field. I'm almost positive your coach saw it too, but Breaker wasn't going to give up. He was going back out there and making that play whether any of us wanted him to or not. You couldn't have stopped him. Jesus himself could have come down on that field to try to stand in the way and Breaker would have told him to fuck off. Don't put this on yourself, Lennon. Breaker is his own, stubborn, pigheaded man, and when he wakes up he won't be blaming you. If I had to guess, the first thing he'll want to do when he opens his eyes is get another one of those sweet lookin' smooches you gave him down in the end zone."

She punctuates the last sentence with a sweetly menacing smirk, and if possible, my stomach drops even further.

“Maryann, I?—”

"Save it. I've known about yous guys the whole time. I talk to my son everyday, you know," she chuckles, her smile fading into something somber as she gazes down at Breaker.

"He told you?" I ask, a little shocked. I mean I don't care if he did, but he's the one that insisted we keep it from her as well in the first place.

"He didn't have to. It was obvious. One minute Breaker is pissin' and moanin' about Lennon, how Lennon broke his heart, how he hates himself for treating Lennon like shit. Then all of the sudden it's 'Oh, we made up. We're friends. We're good.' I didn't buy it for a second. Don't you look at me like that," she says, and I know in an instant that she's clocked the guilty-as-hell look on my face. "I'm not mad, Lennon. I'm just smarter than the two of yous give me credit for. Believe me, it was only a matter of time before you two got your heads out of your asses and realized you were both in love with each other. In fact, I need to get your mother on the horn. She said there was no way you'd go public during the season, and I said eventually all the love would overwhelm you and you wouldn't be able to help it. She owes me twenty bucks. Though your dad won the side bet that you'd be the one to cave first, so I guess I'll be buying him a case of Yuengling when I'm back in Pennsylvania."

She gives me a wink, and I gape at her, trying to catch up. She knew. My parents knew. Did everyone know? Were we fooling ourselves this entire time? But wait, Coach didn't know, or at least he acted like he didn't when he was being a dickhole on the sideline.

"I guess we weren't as…discreet…as we thought we were," I cough. "Does, uh. Does everyone know?"

"Your parents know," Maryann says with a smile. "But no, not everyone. Before today, I'm fairly certain it was just us. Mother's intuition, and all that. It's going to be okay, Lennon. It's not a crime to be in love."

I close my eyes and nod, knowing that what she's saying is true.

"I didn't want to detract from his career, from his game. What he's done this season, it's been incredible. Unprecedented. He's…fuck. He's Superman. To me, anyway. We both hated lying, keeping secrets, but I thought it was for the best. I made him do this, and then I spilled the beans anyway. What does that say about me?"

"It says you're a man who will do anything to protect the person that you love, but more importantly, Lennon? It says you're a man who loves with his entire chest. You weren't thinking about the league or the consequences or anything when you kissed Breaker down on that field, were you?"

"No," I answer, my voice sounding soft and unsure, even to me.

"No. You were thinking about how in love you are with my son, weren't you?" She asks, and I bite my lip.

"I was. I was thinking about how I couldn't live without him. Couldn't stand to see him hurt. Just wanted to take his pain away."

Breaker stirs, and I go stiff.

"Now's your chance, Lennon," Maryann says, standing and patting Breaker's hand. "Stay here. Be here when he wakes up. Take his pain away."

I watch as she walks backwards to the door, wiping a wayward tear from her cheek as she retreats.

As soon as she's gone, I round the bed and squeeze myself in as best I can. One leg hangs off the side, my foot already tingling with pins and needles. I maneuver myself as carefully as possible, making sure not to jostle his slung shoulder as I gently pull Breaker onto my chest and close my eyes.