Eastshore Tigers 01 - Strong Side (19 page)

We lose to Alabama, 42 to 7.

Half the time I don’t hear the backup quarterback’s play-calls, and I end up missing a couple of easy catches and eventually turning the ball over.

When the assistant coach pulls me from the game, it leaves me in complete agony, because it just gives me a chance to sit there and wonder. I can’t leave the stadium. Only Coach Garvey went with Jason to the hospital, and the rest of us have to wait until the game is put out of its misery.

As soon as the final score is called, I go straight to the locker room, drop off my equipment, and grab what I need. A bunch of the other guys do the same thing, and Coach Hanes takes us to the hospital ER.

The waiting room fills up with college football players. I try to reach Coach Garvey on his cell, but he has it turned off. When Coach Hanes goes back to look for him, all I can do is pace.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry, man. Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” Mills says.

“Fucking fantastic,” I say before I can stop myself. After a second I sigh, and try not to be such an asshole the second time around. “Sorry. Just wish they’d tell us something.”

“You and me both.” He gives me a look that says he knows it’s not really the same for us, though. I guess there’s an up side to somebody knowing how much I care about Jason. “Holler if you need anything, all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks, man.”

I grab a seat because I’m starting to get dirty looks from the hospital’s admitting staff. And a few weird looks from my teammates, too. I don’t really blame them for wondering what the hell’s going on with me. Some of them look a little concerned, but most just look bored. They have their phones out despite the big sign telling them not to. They’re making trips to the vending machines or the coffee cart.

They look like teammates. Guys who’ve ultimately seen all this before and have no reason to think Jason won’t be okay.

And no reason to feel guilty.

Fuck. That’s the worst part of this. My stomach churns with it, and I just want to shove through those security doors and check every room until I find him so I can apologize for being such a dick.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this wasn’t bothering Jason as much as it’s bothered me for the past few days. But what if it was? What if he was distracted during the game today? Because what happened out there, it would’ve never happened to the old Jason Hawkins. He’s one of the least sackable quarterbacks in the division, if not the whole damn league.

And it gnaws at me the whole time I’m sitting there. I think about what I could’ve done differently. How I could’ve just swallowed my pride and checked all my baggage and just admitted that I was fucking scared. Scared of ending up where Jason is now.

I’m given a good twenty or thirty minutes to agonize over it before I hear the buzzer sound as the heavy doors open outward. Coach Hanes and Coach Garvey both walk into the waiting room, accompanied by a nurse, and I’m the first one on my feet.

“How is he? Is he going to be okay?”

My voice doesn’t even sound like me. It’s higher-pitched. Panicked.

Coach clears his throat to get the attention of all the other guys who aren’t as invested in this as I am. “Jason’s awake right now. His dad’s in there with him. Doctor says he’s sustained a mild concussion, and has a torn ACL.”

The word ‘concussion’ makes my stomach drop. That’s one of the worst possible words a football player can hear, because once you get that first one, your chances just get so much worse if you have another. And considering Jason’s most likely bound for the NFL, I don’t think this will be his last.

And a torn ACL… shit. Our coach back in high school used to tell us that tearing a ligament was way worse than breaking a bone. He made us do stretches and warm-ups regularly to try and avoid it.

But both of those things are secondary in my mind to the fact that Jason is awake. He’s alive. Even if I rationally knew he wouldn’t be dead, it was hard to quiet my mind after seeing his lifeless body carted off the field.

“I need to see him,” I say, standing in Coach Garvey’s way before he can take a seat.

“Mr. Hawkins needs his rest,” the nurse says firmly. “I’m afraid it’s family only right now. If you boys want to come back tomorrow, we can admit a few of you at a time.”

“No, you don’t understand. I need to talk to him.”

I’m never the kind of guy who gets agitated by people who are just doing their jobs. They have enough shit to deal with as it is. But right now, this nurse is standing between me and Jason, and there’s no way I can wait until tomorrow to see him. That’s just not going to happen.

I try to move past her, to go for the button that opens the doors, but Coach Garvey stops me.

“Why don’t you take a seat, son. I’m going to have the bus come by and get you all back to your dorms.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I need to see Jason.”

“Derek, it’s okay. He’s okay.” There’s a warning in Mills’ voice, and I know exactly what it means.

If I disrespect my coach and act out here, there’s a good chance I might not start in the next game. But I don’t fucking care. I don’t care if I never start in another game. If I never get that scholarship. If I never get my degree.

I just need to make things right with Jason.

“I’m going back there.”

I shrug out of Coach Garvey’s grasp and hit the button. The door slowly opens again.

“I’m sorry, sir, but unless you’re family—”

“I’m his boyfriend.”

The words come out before I even realize I’m saying them. I can hear dead silence in the waiting room, and when I look at the nurse, she glances to Coach Garvey and Coach Hanes before addressing me.

“I can let you back for a short visit, but once the doctor comes, you’ll have to leave.”

I don’t try to fight it anymore. All I need is a chance, and I follow her back through the ER, barely hearing the low din of my teammates.

The ER looks pretty slow, and I’m grateful for that. If I went back there to find Jason was being parked in the hallway, I would’ve been pissed. Instead, he’s in one of the bays, behind a curtain. It’s not much better, but at least it’s something.

When I step past the curtain, the first thing I see is Jason’s dad in the nearby seat. He has his reading glasses on and a book in his lap. Anger flares in me. Why the fuck isn’t he right by Jason, talking to him or trying to make him more comfortable? Who can read when their kid is hurt?

But when I actually look at his face, I see lines I swear weren’t there the last time I saw him. Maybe he’s just really good at keeping all of this shit inside. Right now, I could probably use a lesson or two from him.

He’s not why I came here, though, and when my gaze settles on Jason, I feel even worse. He’s in a hospital gown now, instead of his uniform. There’s a band around his wrist and he’s got an IV hooked up to his arm, along with a few intimidating monitors.

He’s paler than he should be, and when he looks at me, he looks… hopeless.

“Hey,” I say lamely.

“Hey.”

I swallow hard and come over to his bedside. No way am I going to make such a big deal about coming back here and not actually man up enough to talk to him. Moving my hand over the gurney railing, I reach for his hand and entwine my fingers with his.

I can feel him tense at first, but he slowly relaxes. His dad is watching us, and I find myself not caring whether he suspects or not. Jason wanted everybody to know. Now they do. For better or worse.

“Do you mind if I talk to him for a bit?” I ask, my heart already hammering in my chest.

“That’s fine. You want anything from the machines, Jason?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

His voice sounds bleak. Colorless, if that’s even possible. Once Jason’s dad draws back the curtain and I hear him retreat down the hallway, I take in Jason’s appearance more fully. Despite the things I noticed earlier, he’s intact. He just looks like someone told him he only has a few hours left to live.

And even thinking that makes my stomach roll.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” I say, and I don’t really try to hide the emotion in my voice.

“Yeah. Sure. Except for the fact that I’m out for the season.”

Right. The ACL tear. That’s going to need surgery and a long, difficult recovery. Losing that mobility is just suicide for a quarterback.

It’s sad that a part of me is glad for it. A very tiny part, but one that still exists. If he isn’t on the field, he can’t get hurt again.

But looking at his face, I know he’s already in pain. And not just the physical kind.

“Your dad will get you the best physical therapist out there. Maybe there’s still a chance you can get well enough to play before January.”

He shakes his head. “Doctor doesn’t think so, and Coach was in here when he said it. I’m done, Derek. I’m not going to the bowl game, and I might as well forget about the NFL.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. You can still go to one of the camps. Nobody’s going to turn you away once you’re healed. So what if you aren’t drafted?”

Even I know it’s a long shot. The NFL doesn’t have to make up the majority of their teams from walk-ons. They can be a hell of a lot choosier than the universities. But I refuse to believe Jason doesn’t have a shot. He’s an amazing quarterback. Anybody who watches his footage will see that.

“You should’ve seen my dad’s face when the doctor told me I wouldn’t be playing for the rest of the season,” he says, and I can hear the change in his voice.

Out of everything he’s said to me so far, that’s what’s causing him the most pain. I want to go out into the hall and tell his dad he should be fucking grateful that’s the worst thing that happened to his son.

Instead, I force out the words: “He’s just worried about you.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, just looks up at the TV above my head. It’s muted, and when I glance over my shoulder I don’t see any closed captioning, so I know he’s just trying to avoid my gaze.

“Jason…”

I take a deep breath. I’ve needed to say this for days. I hate that it’s taken something like this to get the words out of me, but I can’t hold them back now. The last thing that matters here is how scared I am for myself. Whatever happens, I’ll deal with it.

I just want Jason and I to be okay.

“I’m sorry for what I said in your dorm. It was fucking stupid and selfish and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s fine,” he says, shifting in his bed.

“No, it’s not. I was a real dick. You’re the first guy I’ve been with who’s ever been cool with going public, and I just… I acted like an asshole. I let what happened in the past get inside my head, and I fucked everything up.”

He looks up at me, and I can see the hesitation in his eyes. “You did act like an asshole.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah? You’re going to be the one getting me water and shit while I’m laid up in bed?”

“Fucking right I am. I’ll put in the transfer to your dorm myself.”

He shakes his head, but a little smile makes its way to his lips. At least he doesn’t hate me. And when I take his hand and gives his fingers a gentle squeeze, he doesn’t try to pull away, so that has to be a good sign.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” I say, putting my other hand over top of his. “About what happened to me in high school.”

Jason looks up at me cautiously, but slowly nods.

I draw in a deep breath. Every part of me wants to turn back. There’s a reason I don’t let myself think about this shit. But if I want this thing to continue with Jason, I have to tell him. He has to know why I’m so fucked up. Why I made a big deal out of it.

“I told you the guys on the team found out I was gay, and that’s why they didn’t block for me.” He nods. “Well, they found out from one of my teammates. A guy I was dating. Danny.” I take a second to figure out how I want to say this, and pull up those memories I haven’t touched in years. “Danny was the first guy from school I dated. The others were hookups. Older guys who didn’t know I was underage. Other kids at a gay bar. But Danny was somebody I actually cared about, and I thought he cared about me. Around six months into it, though, the other guys on the team started to give us a lot of shit about always hanging out together. Called us fags. Made sure we could hear whenever they made gay jokes. I guess Danny freaked out, because he started pulling away. Wanted to see me less and less. Eventually, he said he wanted to break up. I was pretty fucking crushed, but I focused on football and tried not to let it bother me. Next thing I know, everybody on the team knows I’m gay, and every time they say something about it, there’s Danny at his locker with his mouth shut, looking guilty as fuck.”

I wish I could say I’m not angry about it, but even now, it hits me hard. My jaw clenches, and I have to stroke Jason’s hand to calm myself down.

“When I was laid up at home, he came over to visit. Wanted to clear his conscience, I guess. Told me he was the reason the guys knew about it. That they wouldn’t leave him alone, so he gave me up instead.”