Chapter 38
Hayes
22 Years Old
Nerves skitter over my skin as I slide my helmet on.
One more game. We’ve got one more game to win, and then we are heading to the championship. One more game to impress the scouts.
Beside me, Langston buckles his chin strap into place and slaps my helmet.
“You got my back, H?”
“Always, man. Always.”
“Then let’s do this.”
He takes off out of the tunnel, leading the team, and I follow, ready for a game that will change our lives.
We chase the sunlight out of the tunnel, and I have to blink against the brightness of the field.
It’s a beautiful day to play football.
The rest of the team takes the sidelines, stretching, but I turn, searching the stands for a fiery red hair and a jersey that has my name on the back.
I find her sitting two rows up in the student section, smiling down at me. Even if we lose today, I won’t be upset—not when my girl looks at me like that.
Throwing a salute to her, I join my team and stretch.
The captains meet on the field, and we win the coin toss, choosing to defer until after halftime. And for the rest of the game, things seem to go our way. During the whole game, we stay one touchdown ahead until the fourth quarter, when the other team scores, tying the game.
The team is gassed at this point, but we need one more touchdown.
One more push to win it all.
Langston gathers the team in the huddle with a minute and a half left on the scoreboard. Plenty of time to score.
“Hayes, get open downfield. The ball will meet you there.”
I nod, not even questioning it. If Langston says the ball will be there, then it will.
We line up on the line. The whistle blows. The clock ticks down, and I run like the rest of my life depends on it. My feet thunder against the ground, eating up the turf until I stand in the end-zone. The ball flies through the air, hitting me square in the numbers.
A perfect throw.
A perfect catch.
A perfect win.
We won the game. The crowd should be cheering, but as I lift the ball in the air, the stadium is quiet.
My heart thunders in my ears.
Something’s wrong—very wrong.
I search for MJ again, and I find her, but she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking down the field where her brother lies on the ground, crying out in pain. Horror fills her eyes, and my stomach churns.
I can’t hear anything besides my breath as I take off running down the field, but when I get there, I wish I had stayed away.
Langston is on the ground, his leg snapped at an awkward angle from a tackle that should have never happened.
The replays are playing on the big screens around the stadium. I watch in horror as, over and over again, the ball leaves Langston’s hand, and five seconds later, a big lineman comes in, tackling him and snapping his leg.
A cheap shot.
That’s all it took to ruin everything Langston’s been working for—everything MJ and I have protected him for.
Rage blinds me, making it impossible to see anything other than the number of the guy who tackled him.
Thirty-four.
When the number computes in my brain, I search for him on the field, finding him just off to the side, looking smug.
I don’t think. I just react.
Blind fury guides me until I’m pushing through the crowd of players at full speed. Number thirty-four’s helmet is in his hand, but when I tackle him, it flies out, landing somewhere on the ground beside us.
I get in one good shot to the face before someone has me by the waist, pulling me off.
Slowly, the stadium comes back into focus, the noise coming with it.
And by the time it fully returns, they’ve already carted Langston off the field, and MJ has disappeared from the stadium.
______________________
The hospital is just down the street from the stadium.
I don’t even bother with a shower—stripping out of my uniform and throwing on some sweats. I take off at a dead sprint to my car.
Coach probably wants to have a conversation about that fight, but I’m in no mood. He can bench me at this point for all I care. I just need to make it to Langston and MJ.
With my phone in my hand, I try calling MJ over and over again, but I keep getting her voicemail.
“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” I chant, throwing my truck in drive and squealing out of the parking lot.
I’m in the emergency room parking lot within five minutes, haphazardly parking my truck and sprinting into the doors.
MJ, Abigail, and Dr. Harrison all sit in the emergency room with sober looks on their face.
Skidding to a halt in front of them, I ask, “Where is he? How is he doing?”
Abigail bursts into tears, and Dr. Harrison wraps an arm around her, patting her back. He looks like a man whose dreams have just been crushed.
MJ is the only person who acknowledges me. “He’s getting x-rays done right now. More than likely, he will have surgery in the morning, but Hayes—the doctor’s—” she stops, swallowing hard and lowering her voice. “They said this is the end of his career. He’ll probably walk with a limp for the rest of his life.”
Adrenaline whooshes out of me, and I fall into a seat.
The moment I saw Langston’s leg, I knew that would be the case, but it’s different hearing it confirmed by someone else.
MJ sits beside me, holding my hand in hers, and I take the comfort she offers, even though I should be comforting her. We both know that this will send him into a spiral.
We sit in silence until a nurse comes out. “Langston is back from x-rays. You can go back and see him now.”
Standing, we all follow her down the hall to a room at the end.
She opens the door, and Langston lays on the bed, pale with pain and refusing to look at us when we enter.
Dr. Harrison is the first one to speak. “Son, we’ll figure this out. It’s not over.”
Langston’s voice is deadly when he speaks. “GET OUT. ALL OF YOU GET OUT.”
MJ flinches, and I pull her back against me, protecting her the best way I can.
The nurse steps in, searching for the commotion. “Maybe we should give him some time. He’s on some pretty strong painkillers, and sometimes they can make people act—out of character.”
“I’m a doctor. Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not going anywhere. That’s my son.”
“I SAID GET OUT.”
“Daddy, let’s come back later. Let’s let him rest. He doesn’t need you picking at him right now,” MJ says, placing her hand on her dad’s arm, but he shakes it off, turning toward her with a look of fury on his face.
“You would think that’s what I’m doing. You never were capable of understanding perseverance and hard work.”
MJ flinches as if he slapped her. Without another word, Dr. Harrison storms out of the room with Abigail on his heels. MJ steps out of my arms, shaking.
“He didn’t mean it, MJ. He’ll apologize later.”
Tears slip down her face, but she dashes them away, stepping out of the room.
“I think he did mean it. And the day he apologizes will be the day that pigs fly. I’m done. I won’t take the abuse anymore. Do me a favor—stick around, and when Langston decides he wants to talk to someone, remind him that I love him.”
“Why don’t you stay and tell him yourself?” I try to stop her from walking away. She’ll regret it if she does, but she shakes her head, already backing down the hall.
“No, Hayes—not this time.”
Then she’s walking away with my name still on her back and a broken heart that I cannot fix.