Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
JAYDEN
For two hours I managed to ignore the increasing pounding in my head. As we crept closer to the third hour, I was toast. My vision became more blurry, and if I didn’t get my head down in the next ten minutes, I expected to crash where I stood.
“Coach Moore.”
I squinted against the harsh light as I looked up, trying to focus on the speaker of the voice.
“Jay-bomb.” A hand on my elbow accompanied my name. “You don’t look so great.”
My vision swam, ears ringing, vying for my attention alongside the heavy thump behind my eyes. I heard mumbling, shuffling, and was mildly aware of concern in the tones around me.
I wanted to speak. Let Eddie know I’d be fine after sleep and some painkillers, but the thought of hearing my own voice made me hold my tongue.
And then a warm arm wrapped around my waist. Comfort, heat, and a scent that registered through the painful fog clogging my brain.
“I’ve got you, Jay. Eddie’s just going to help me get you to our room.”
I tried to smile, tried to let Sutton know him looking out for me made my heart happy, managing to cut through the stabbing jolts determined to bring me to my knees.
But screw that.
We were only two days into our coaching gig. There wasn’t a chance I’d buckle and let the shitfest in my brain break me. Sutton knew that. He’d know being in pain was one thing I could just about handle in public, but on my back or on my knees, no fucking way.
With no idea how long it took us to get to our room, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Sweat trickled down my spine, and I was vaguely aware of the quiet, tight voices on either side of me.
Then I was on the mattress, my sneakers being tugged off, Sutton taking care of me in that assured way of his.
“Take these, baby.” Five tablets appeared in my hand. I didn’t need to see to know which ones they were.
I attempted a smile and a whispered “Thanks” before swallowing them down with the cool water he offered up. A niggle on the edges of my mind latched on to his sweetness. Before I could think more, I melted into the mattress and the soft touch of his fingers against my skin.
“Let me just talk to Eddie.” He followed up with a kiss on my temple, and legit tucked me in as I settled under the sheets, grateful that my head was finally touching the soft pillow.
Soft voices drifted in and out of my consciousness. The sound of a door closing, another opening. A dip in the bed. Something cool against my neck, making me sigh.
A touch of a tender kiss against my head.
Shuffling sheets and a warm embrace. Safety and comfort.
Each sound and movement intermittently reached me. Each one soothed me, helping the pounding ease and the loudness of my breaths plateau to gentle wisps.
I had no idea how long I slept. A warm body pressed against me, and that was all I cared about. And maybe the fact I could string more than a few thoughts together without my brain cracking open felt pretty much like magic too.
I prized an eye open. Just one, to test the light.
When I managed without burrowing deep under the covers, I lifted the second lid, blinking a few times to get my bearings.
Sunlight flooded the room.
I thought back to what time my head had finally told me who was boss. It had maybe been three or four in the afternoon. Since it was summer and dusk didn’t change the color of the sky until at least seven thirty, it could be dinnertime. Either that or I’d slept right through and it was morning.
A sliver of frustration crept to the surface, hoping the latter wasn’t the case. The knowledge of not surviving a day on the court, and not even training or playing, but doing a tenth of the physical activity I usually did, sat heavily on my chest.
Logically I was aware concussions impacted everyone differently. But I was what, about four weeks or so in, and my brain and body had shut down after a morning giving instructions and after lunch organizing a few drills and doing a few basic demos? No way could that be happening.
Not to me.
I was Jayden fucking Moore, and sitting still for so long made me itchy.
I had to fight this, push through it.
A simple smack of my head against a car window was not going to screw me over.
A flush of heat swept over me so fast, I struggled to breathe. I threw the covers off and swung my legs out of bed, sitting up.
What if this continued? What if the bang had knocked something loose?
What if I couldn’t play again?
I jumped out of bed, refused to acknowledge how I staggered a little, and all but charged to the bathroom. Having just enough sense to tug off my tee and shorts, I stepped into the shower, throwing on the tap as I entered.
Cool water beat down at me. I gasped, taking a shuddering breath. I closed my eyes, trying not to fall down the well of what-ifs, too terrified that by doing so, my panicked thoughts would come true.
The sound of the shower door opening reached me. I jerked open my eyes, gaze immediately landing on Sutton’s face. His smile slipped, worry bleeding into his expression.
Without saying a word, he stripped, stepped into my space, and wrapped me up in his arms. I went willingly, indulging in his strength, his calm, and mumbling, “Tag, I’m it.”
His low snort was an attempt at amusement, but neither of us believed it. Sutton held me tightly, saying, “I’m happy to take one for the team and for you to pass the tag back.”
Gratitude for this man flowed over me, pulling a smile from where it was buried below my self-pity. I dotted a kiss on his neck and angled away to see his face. After reading my expression, his knotted brows eased a little.
“I don’t mind holding the mantle for a while. Just as long as we take it in turns with hurting.”
Immediately, concern flooded his features. “Hurting as in…?”
I rolled my eyes at myself, forcing out a chuckle.
“Nothing. Just my head. I’m getting tired of migraines and dizziness, is all.
” While we’d attempted to tease each other, with Sutton’s feelings still unresolved, there was no way I was adding to his burden.
He already worried about my concussion. If I laid another load on his shoulders about my fear of not healing right and it impacting my career…
. No way was I sharing my bullshit fears.
I’d be fine. It had only been a few weeks, which meant that I needed to suck it up and just take each day as it came, pushing myself a little at a time.
I totally had this.
“I’m feeling much better today,” I offered. Maybe it was because I was telling the truth that he finally relaxed in my hold this time.
“That’s great,” he responded. I was grateful he didn’t question me, asking if I was sure. When people did that, it irritated the heck out of me. Though I was guilty of pushing myself on more than one occasion. “I was worried. You missed dinner last night.”
My brows shot high. I hadn’t even bothered looking at the time before stumbling into the shower. Just then, my stomach grumbled, obviously hearing the mention of food and letting me know it needed filling.
“No wonder my stomach’s caving in.”
Strong fingers brushed against my stomach. Goose bumps rose, and my stomach clenched at Sutton’s touch. “I can’t feel any hollowness there.”
I simply nodded, tugging my bottom lip into my mouth and not so subtly encouraging him to keep touching with a thrust of my hips. “Perhaps you need to take a better look.” I quirked my brow at him in challenge, thinking back to the spectacular blow job we’d ended with our first night here.
Fuck, was that really only a couple of nights ago?
Sutton trailed his fingers up my stomach, toward my chest, totally in the wrong direction. When my stomach growled, loud enough that it almost shook the shower walls, he paused, wide-eyed and chuckling.
“You need food.”
“I need my cock in your mouth.”
He smirked, but rather than dropping to his knees, he kissed me gently and stepped away, opening the cubicle door.
“Seriously?” I groaned, attempting a sulky pout that simply had him laughing.
“Yep. Food. If you wait any longer, your migraine will come back.” He passed me a towel and started drying off.
“You know you’re an asshole when you’re right,” I grumbled, toweling myself down.
“Wow, so you’re saying I spend 99.9 percent of my time being an asshole?” He raised both brows and gave me an amused, pointed look.
“As if.”
“Uh-huh.”
I flicked the towel at his perfect ass when he turned to leave. He jumped and grunted, flipped me off, and headed to get dressed.
My traitorous stomach doubled its efforts. Fine, I thought. When my stomach was cock blocking me, I reluctantly listened.
We got ready, had breakfast, reassured the team I was okay and wouldn’t push it so hard today, and then we finally got to work.
Despite how yesterday afternoon had turned out, I was having a blast.
There were some cocky assholes on the court, which was how I’d got a little too involved and enthused yesterday. But sometimes, a twenty-year-old hotshot who thought he was all that needed taking down a peg or two.
Thank Christ I’d managed that and hadn’t had a spell on the court when showing Lincoln how the pros did it and that he definitely wasn’t the king of the court.
But I’d suffered the consequences because of it.
I ignored the taunting voice in my head that mumbled something about keeping my own ego in check.
I spent the morning with Eddie and a group of the guys, giving directions, running drills and plays. After a short break, we gathered, and the guys played a few games. My cell vibrated just as we were about to start a new set of drills, and I tugged it out. Greg was calling.
Giving my apologies to Eddie, I stepped out of range and climbed a few steps before taking a seat and answering. “Hey, Greg.”
“Jayden, how are things? You settling in?”
I smiled. “Absolutely. There’s a really good bunch of guys here. Facilities are great. Everything okay over there?”
“Yeah, just thought I’d give you an update on the Axle thing.”