27. Cecelia
TWENTY-SEVEN
CECELIA
This is not happening. It’s not. There’s no way this is fucking happening.
My brain is a jumble of panic and pain. I just keep remembering, over and over again, the sound that my knee made.
The same sound it made when I tore my ACL last year.
Please, I think, not even sure who I’m begging. Please don’t let this be real.
I want Solomon. The second I went down all I could think was that I needed him. He would figure out what was going on. He would fix it for me.
When they told him to go back to the field, I knew he was seconds away from refusing. I could see it on his face—he would have told them no, told them he was staying with me, no consideration given to his program or the need to keep us a secret. I couldn’t let him do that.
But God, I had wanted him to.
Because now the trainer is helping me up onto one of the treatment tables and it’s cold in here and I’m so scared, and I just want him, damn it. I want him to stand next to me and hold my hand, his calm and quiet radiating off of him until I feel calm and quiet myself.
“CeCe!” I look up and see my parents standing in the doorway. My mom has a fierce look on her face but my dad looks about two seconds away from crying. I take a deep breath, forcing the panic away.
I cannot lose it in front of my parents.
“You guys sure picked a good game to bring half the family to,” I tell them, attempting a joking tone.
They’re not buying it. My mom pushes her way past Genie, the team’s student manager who’s been hovering worriedly at the door since we got back here, and comes to my side, taking my hand, her attention going straight to my knee.
She doesn’t even try to hide her grimace at the swelling, and my stomach churns.
She knows, too. She knows that I’m totally screwed.
“Mrs. Ransome,” Devon says, nodding at her. “Mr. Ransome.”
Dad comes up on my other side, leaning down to kiss my head. There are tears in his eyes and it makes me want to cry, too, but I have to keep it together.
“You look a little green, Dad,” I tell him, still trying to keep it light. “Don’t puke on me, okay?”
“I’ll do my best, baby girl,” he says, his voice shaky.
Meanwhile Devon is rotating my knee and pressing into the tissue and I’m doing my best not to scream in pain. After a moment, he looks up and meets my eye and I just know.
“We need to do an MRI,” he says, voice carefully even. “This could very well be an MCL sprain. Or irritated scar tissue from your ACL graft.”
I grit my teeth so I don’t start screaming. Yeah, it could be one of those things. But the dread pounding through my blood doesn’t lessen. It’s like my body knows what’s happening without being told.
My knee is fucked. Again.
Do people come back from this twice?
“We’re gonna try to stay positive,” Mom says, squeezing my shoulder. Is she not meeting my eye, or is that just my imagination?
“Yes,” Dad agrees quickly, kissing my head again. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine.”
I want to agree with them, put on a good show, pretend to be confident.
But I also want to burst into tears. I want to scream and cry about how unfair this is.
I worked so freaking hard to come back from my injury.
Sol worked so freaking hard to keep me healthy and playing at my best. All the effort, all the pain I went through, and it’s all going to be for nothing.
It isn’t fair.
Devon is applying ice and compression while he talks to my parents about what needs to happen next, something about contacting the team doctor and setting up scans.
I barely hear him because it’s taking all of my focus to not completely lose my shit right now.
Eventually he gives my leg a gentle pat.
“I’ll give you some time with your family.
I’m going to get you a brace and some crutches for tonight. Keep it elevated while I’m gone, okay?”
When he opens the door to leave, I hear voices in the hallway outside.
My first thought is that Sol is finally here, but then I see my brother Will’s tall frame in the door, Wyatt right behind him.
They’re wearing nearly identical expressions of tense worry.
Aunt Daisy and Uncle Daltrey come in next, then my sisters-in-law, and the other Littles are pushing their way through, too—and I cannot do this right now.
I can’t keep up a brave face for all of them. I can’t tease Vega for the tears streaming down her face. I can’t pretend like I’m not absolutely losing my shit sitting here on this treatment table.
But I have to. I’m not the girl who falls apart.
I’m not the girl who cries in the middle of a room full of people.
The game must be nearly over which means any minute now this building is going to be filled with my coaches and my teammates—what will they think if they find me sniffling like a baby?
So I force a smile onto my face as my family crowds around me. “Which one of you brought me bad luck?” I ask.
Aunt Daisy lets out a shaky laugh. Cade and Ash are stone-faced, like they’re not buying it. Vega is still crying.
“That was pretty scary, girl,” Uncle Daltrey says, him and Aunt Daisy coming up next to the table to pat my back and squeeze my hand. I notice Daltrey grips my dad’s shoulder as he passes.
“You know me,” I tell him, voice light even as I dig my fingers into the foam of the table. “Drama just follows me around.”
There’s some more laughter, the mood lightening a tad. Good. I just need to keep things easy until everyone leaves. I can fall apart later.
“Where’s Aunt Paige?” I ask. “I know I saw her out there. I thought she’d be the first back here fussing.”
“Paige and Reed are watching the babies,” Wyatt says and I have to fight back a wince. I hadn’t thought about my nephews and niece being out there when it happened. Is Theo old enough to realize I got hurt?
“We figured tornado Paige was the last thing you needed in here,” Dad says, managing the first real smile I’ve seen on him.
“That’s good.” I wink at Vega. “She’d probably be trying to redo my braid or something.”
“CeCe,” Ash says, his voice low. He’s one of the only family members not even trying to smile or make light of things and I can’t meet his eye.
“She’ll need an MRI,” Mom says in response to his unasked question. “It could be irritated scar tissue from her last surgery. Or a sprain.”
Or it could be another tear, I think, and have to dig my fingers into my thighs to keep from shuddering.
“How does it feel?” Vega asks, wiping her face.
“I’ll live,” I tell her.
“Ceece,” Will says, frowning at me. “You can tell us.”
I wave a hand. “It hurts. But not as bad as…you know. Before.”
Not at bad as last time, I can’t bring myself to say.
“Well, that’s good,” Vega says, brightening. “Maybe it’s just a sprain, like they said. If it doesn’t hurt as bad.”
“Yup.” My voice is high-pitched and unfamiliar. I’m starting to lose my ability to fake this. I grit my teeth, not meeting anyone’s eye.
“She should be able to have the scan tomorrow,” Mom says. “She’ll have to stay off it until then.”
“That will be fun,” Aunt Daisy says, smiling down at me. “I don’t envy whoever has to try to keep this girl still and resting.”
Cade lets out a good-natured groan. “I just remembered that we’re her roommates. I call not it on keeping Ceece immobile duty."
“She’ll be coming home with us,” Dad says.
I should make some quip. Something about how being fussed at by my over-protective father sounds worse than the injury itself. But I just can’t force myself to open my mouth.
The door swings open again and I look up, expecting to see Devon back with the brace, relieved because he’ll make everyone leave while he treats me and I won’t have to try so hard to be okay.
Instead, my eyes lock with familiar dark ones. Solomon’s face is pale, his eyes huge and worried as they study me. I don’t know what he sees in my face, but sympathy fills his expression.
And suddenly, I’m crying.
More than crying—I’m sobbing, my hands over my face as I try to gasp for air. I don’t understand the sounds coming out of my chest, how I could possibly sound so broken when just a minute ago I’d been forcing myself to laugh like everything was fine.
Everything is not fine. My knee fucking hurts like crazy and I’m pretty sure my soccer career is over and I just want everyone to go away.
Everyone except for him.
My dad is saying something, his voice panicked—because he’s definitely not ever heard me cry like this before.
Mom is talking, too, and Aunt Daisy’s grip on my hand feels too tight.
But then familiar arms are coming around me, lifting me a little, so gently that I don’t even feel it in my knee.
I’m pulled into a solid, warm chest and Sol is cradling the back of my head. I clutch at him, sobbing harder.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs into my ear, his voice steady and calm. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“I heard it,” I sob. “I swear I heard it pop.”
He doesn’t try to convince me that I imagined it or that I was hearing something else.
He just holds me, rubbing firm circles down my back.
He manages to get up onto the table with me and he pulls me into his lap while somehow keeping my bad leg still.
I turn into him, my face briefly exposed to the room.
I get a fleeting glance of shocked, still faces, my family gaping at me like they’ve never seen me before.
Then Sol’s whole body seems to surround me, his familiar scent and his comforting warmth filling my senses, blocking me off from the rest of the world.
I cling to his neck and cry while he whispers into my ear, over and over again.
You’re so strong.
The strongest person I know.
You’re going to get through this. I’m going to help you.
You’re so strong, Cecelia.
It’s going to be okay.
I’m right here.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, him holding me on the treatment table while I fall apart.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I know I’m going to regret this later, that I’ll feel embarrassed when I realize that I completely fell apart in front of everyone, but right now, I don’t care.
There’s only one person in the world who could possibly make me feel even the slightest bit better and he’s currently holding me tighter than I’ve ever been held before.
Eventually my sobs slow. He doesn’t lessen the pressure of his hold for a while after that, keeping my face tucked into his chest. Finally, his arms loosen and he looks down at me, his expression gentle as he starts to wipe away my tears.
I hear a noise behind me and go rigid, remembering how many people had been surrounding my bed before I lost it.
“That was someone out in the hallway,” he says immediately. “It’s just us in here.” I pull back enough to look around and sure enough, my family has disappeared. “Your parents made everyone leave.”
I close my eyes, relieved. I can put off seeing them for a little while, at least. I’m pretty shocked my parents willingly left, though.
“They’re going to wait for Devon in the hall,” Sol says, as if he read my mind. “They wanted to make sure he would give us a minute.”
I start to move away as reality crashes in. “You’re going to get in trouble.”
“Fuck that,” he says, pulling me right back into him. “You don’t need to worry about that right now, okay? No one is coming in here. Just breathe.”
I give myself a moment to do just that, but it’s hard to stay calm now that my crying fit is over. “What am I gonna do, Sol?” I whisper, my voice cracking.
He kisses the top of my head. “I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do.
Devon will come in soon and brace your knee, and then we’ll go back to your place.
We’ll get comfortable on your bed—maybe watch some of those cheesy horror movies you like.
You’ll let me ice your knee and apply compression, and we’ll get take out and relax.
” I laugh into his shirt, the sound watery with tears.
“You won’t bug me about my meal plan?”
He chuckles, too. “I won’t say a single word. I’ll even buy you two desserts.”
I snuggle into him, trying to keep from crying again.
“And then what?” I whisper.
“We’ll fall asleep together and tomorrow, I’ll go with you to get your scan. And once we get the results, we can figure out what to do next.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It won’t be easy,” he says. “But I’m going to be there with you the entire time.”
“You promise?” I hate the way my voice sounds, so needy and broken. But Sol just gives me that same sure, even expression he always wears. The one that makes me feel safe and calm. The one that makes me think that maybe everything will be okay after all.
“I promise, Cecelia.”