Here & Now (27 page)

“Have you told anyone?”

Ryder nods and the pained expression from seconds before turns downright tragic now. I’m not sure where he’s gone inside his head, but the way he keeps looking from me to Dillon, how white and pale his face has gotten, it’s like he’s seen a ghost.

“I told Coach when the other team called the first timeout. When he threw me the pass before, he was weaving on his feet and I was worried.”

Nodding, I attempt to move around him, wanting to get closer to Dillon, needing to alleviate the pain in my chest over being a few feet away when my place is by his side, but Ryder shoots his arm out, grasping onto my hand before I can get more than a couple of steps away.

“I know you wanna run over there, but they need to find out what’s going on, Caddy.”

“He’s unconscious isn’t he?”

“Yeah, which is another reason I don’t think it’s smart for you to go over there. It’s gonna be tough to watch.”

“Is that why you’re standing here with me instead of being over there?”

He nods and his eyes dip to the ground. He’s dealing with something, that much is obvious, but right now Ryder and his issues are the least of my concern. I need to be with Dillon and I don’t care if I have to go through the entire team to do it. No one is gonna keep me from him a second longer then I’ve already been.

“Let me go, Ryder. I can’t let him go through this alone.”

He seems to struggle with whether or not to give me what I want and it takes everything I have not to reach up and slap him the same way I did with Dillon the day before. This isn’t something that’s up for debate. He either lets me go so I can get over there before they take him away, or I’m gonna fight my way out.

“Fine. Let’s go, but you’re not going alone. I’m coming with you.”

Dillon

What the hell is going on? Why can’t I move my arm, and why does it feel like someone’s super glued my mouth shut?

Everything hurts. My head is pounding, a percussion of sound going off. One smash after another, making it hard to think. My arms are numb, soft and rubbery, like all the bones have been taken out and I’m just carting around old skin. My chest is so tight, it’s like I’ve got a three hundred pound linebacker sitting on top of it, making sure to put as much pressure as humanly possible until something snaps or I give into it completely.

What’s the last thing I remember?

Being on the field,  getting ready to throw a pass and feeling dizzy, the helmet on my head boxing me in and reaching up to get it off, thinking in the moment that as long as I did that and got some air I’d be fine, even if it screwed the game.

How did I end up flat? Why are there all these moving black shadows trailing over my half opened eyes and why can’t I just part my lips and tell them I’m alright and that I just need a minute?

My heart, it’s beating so fast I can’t even keep count with it the way I normally can, which isn’t doing a damn thing to help the pounding going off every second in my brain. I need to shift, to get up and move so I can steady myself, but I’m stuck.

The way I’m reacting, I know what this is. I didn’t get taken down on the field, my knee didn’t give up and cause me to hit my head. It’s exactly what Mark warned me about all along, what Ryder tried to get me to see and even what Cadence and I fought about less than twenty-four hours before.

It’s the amphetamines. I’m having a fucking heart attack because of what I took this morning.

The warnings Mark gave me play over and over in my head as I make out the sound of my Coach yelling to let people pass. I strain, or at least I think I’m straining, to hear who he’s talking about, but I can’t make it out. He’s probably calling for the trainers, but right now I could care less. They can all just leave me here to burn because it’s not the person that I want to be the one being called through.

I need Cadence. Just her. No one else. If she would walk through the shadows right now, take my hand and let me know she was here with that musical voice of hers, I could beat whatever this is. I could will myself to fight enough to make it wherever they want me too, but it won’t happen because I fucked it all up.

She’s not here.

I can hear sirens, but they seem far away, so I know whoever it is Coach is trying to let through, it’s not them. Not yet anyway. Who else could it be? Kane? Who else gives a shit enough about me to be here right now making sure I’m alright?

No one. The one person that did I had to go and break.

Skin to skin contact. I can feel it and it’s warm. I want to feel more, grasp onto whoever this is and never let go, but my arms still won’t move.

“Wake up, Rocky. Don’t you dare think about passing out!”

Rocky; as in Balboa and the name only one person in existence is allowed to call me and not get the shit kicked out of them for.

Come on lips. You have no problem letting me say the shittiest things when I should be keeping my mouth shut. Don’t fail me now when I need you the most.

“Adrian?”

I can hear the weak sound of my voice reverberating back off the steady drum beat inside my head, but I have no idea if anyone else heard me. At least I don’t until she speaks again and I swear I can feel wetness on my cheeks the minute her skin presses itself to mine.

“I’m here.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Never.”

The haze of shadows and gray that I’ve been drowning in for I don’t know how long finally turns completely dark and my eyes fall shut even as I try like hell to force them up. Giving myself up to the amount of pain I feel and the struggle of emotions now that I know this isn’t a dream and Cadence is really here, I let the black hole swallow me up completely. Two words on repeat over and over right before the lights get completely turned off.

I’m here.

Cadence

Hearing for the first time. Going through with a surgery that could level me with a whole list of complications and problems moving forward and the fear I felt with it is nothing compared to the way it feels right now being on the outside of an operating room while my boyfriend goes through hell on the other side.

Being in the operating room wasn’t a part of the plan when he got loaded into the ambulance and I jumped in beside him. After getting as much information as they could from his coach and then Ryder and me, they were prepared to pump his stomach of the toxins and get him set up in a room, but Dillon had another plan.

A much scarier one, but one that even now as I wait impatiently for someone to come out and talk to me, makes me proud.

He was in and out of consciousness the entire ride to the hospital, which considering how bumpy the road was to get us where we are, I was thankful for, but once they wheeled him into the ER, he woke up long enough to tell them what I wished he’d told them weeks ago.

Take care of the problem that caused him to pass out, make sure he was stable from that and then prep him for surgery. For someone who had been through the trauma he did, I’ve never heard him sound so matter of fact about anything. He wasn’t taking no for an answer, or even being put off until later.

Dillon wanted his knee taken care of because he knew that if they left it alone, he’d walk out of here once he got the okay and things would never get fixed. Not with him and definitely not with us.

“Any word?” Ryder asks as he hands over the small cup of coffee. Shaking my head as I take a sip, the warmth of it coating and burning my throat, causing me to cough in response to the violation, he laughs softly. “Sorry. I asked for cream but they didn’t listen.”

“It’s okay.” I respond quietly, taking another sip of the black tar I’ve got to drink for lack of anything better to say.

“He’s gonna be alright.”

Somewhere deep inside, I know this. Dillon is tough, but this isn’t like anything he’s ever been through before. What he’s facing now is something I don’t think he ever expected to. With the way the surgeon spoke to us before he went in, it doesn’t look good at all, at least when it comes to him ever playing football again.

He let it go for too long, masking the pain with the cortisone, in an insurmountable amount of pain, his knee maybe a couple of days short of complete collapse. I hate the thought of being thankful for what happened on the field today, but in a way I am because the thought of this ending up even worse is frightening.

“This shouldn’t even be happening.” I admit and Ryder nods. If there’s anyone else on the planet that understands the way my mind is working right now, it’s him. He’s the one that saw all of this to begin with and tried to end it.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

Forgetting about my own stress and worry and instead focusing on his, I squeeze his shoulder, letting him know that I don’t blame him and none of this is his fault. I’m not even sure with everything going on right now I can place the blame on Dillon.

Sure he made the decisions to forgo the surgery, ignore the pain and then take amphetamines to produce better results on the field, but he never would have gotten to that point if someone hadn’t put the pressure on him. Pushed him to the limit.

Dillon needs to own this, but so does his coach and every other person associated with that team.

“I hate him.”

“I know you do, but he didn’t know, Caddy. I had some asshole coaches in high school and college before I moved here, but he’s not one of them. If he knew what D was doing, he would have ended it.”

That’s not good enough for me. It doesn’t turn the anger off. I’m not sure there’s anything that could right now since I hit the boiling point long before I got to the field today.

“I just want him to be okay.”

Ryder’s arm comes out and around me and despite the way I feel, I allow myself to collapse into the hold, the pressure of the waiting and the worrying finally reaching a point where I can’t stay strong anymore.  Before I know it, my face is buried in his chest and I can hear the sound of my own sobs, feeling the tears as they fall, along with Ryder doing his best to soothe by rubbing my shoulders.

Sensing movement and looking up, my eyes fall on the door to the operating room, and the sullen face of the doctor who is now making his way toward us. Ryder shifts as he comes closer, his body tensing the same as mine, on guard for what we’re about to hear.

“How is he?” Ryder jumps right in the second the man stops in front of us.

“He’s fine. He’s through the worst of it now. You’ll be able to see him shortly.”

“What do you mean by fine? How is his knee? Is he going to be able to walk?”

“He will, we were able to repair a lot of the damage. It will just take some time to heal and his mobility shouldn’t be a concern.”

“How long until he can play again?”

This doesn’t come from Ryder. I’m still adjusting to being able to hear the sound, but there’s a definite difference between the way the guy standing next to me sounds and this voice. Turning slightly I can see exactly who it is and I don’t even try to hide my disgust at him being here.

I’m also not a fan of what he’s asking. Dillon could have died with the amount of drugs they pumped out of him when we got here, and then again in surgery and this guy is worried about when he can play for him?

“Relax.” Ryder says as he gives my shoulders another squeeze and I force myself to look at him.

“With the damage done, the ligaments he tore, it’s a miracle the boy is even going to walk.”

“Are you saying that he’s never gonna be able to play ball?”

“No. There’s a possibility that in a couple of years, with some extensive physical therapy, he might be able to play again, but that’s not a guarantee and not something I personally advise.”

The doctor turns his attention back to me and with a tight lipped expression motions toward the operating room before resting his hands back at his sides and saying his final words before turning to leave.

“I will have one of the nurses come get you when he’s settled and can have visitors.”

I want to slap the frown right off the coach’s face right now. He doesn’t get to be upset about this. It’s his fault this is happening at all. Him and his stupid need to win games and championships and I’m not gonna sit here and force it down anymore. He needs to hear it even if he doesn’t like it.

“You don’t get to be upset about this.”

“Excuse me, young lady?”

Ryder tugs on my sleeve, attempting to get my attention, stop me from what I’m about to do, but I don’t respond. It’s too late now. I’m too upset and this has gone on long enough.

“Dillon has bent over backwards for you. Done everything you asked of him, every single time you asked. Extra practices—okay done. Training with the new guy—done again, no questions asked. He’s put his body on the line to the point where he was taking drugs to keep up and getting shot up with medicine to mask the pain. You do not get to be upset about this.”

The frown from earlier, it’s still there but where I expect to see anger in the older man’s eyes, all I see is hurt. Maybe he’s not the cold and unfeeling bastard I think he is after all. Maybe he can see sense.

“I had no idea the lengths that Murphy was going to in order to help this team succeed. If I had, I would have put a stop to it before it got to this point. He never should have been on my field in the condition he was in, whether from the enhancers or because of the injury. I think of that boy like a son and I want what’s best for him.”

“He’s already had one father almost end his life, he doesn’t need another one. I won’t let it happen again. You need to leave. I don’t want him to know you’re here.”

“Cad—”

“No, Ryder. If Dillon sees him right now, he’s gonna want to please him. It’s how he works. I’m pretty sure Dillon looks up to him, which means he’ll hate what he just went through, despise himself for letting you all down and I’ll lose him again. He’s been taken from me once. No way I’m gonna sit here and let it happen again.”

“She’s right, Kane. This isn’t my place. I only came to find out how he was.”

“Or how long it would be until you could work him into the ground again.” I snap and the coach shakes his head, but his eyes tell me that his denial is false because they agree when the rest of his body doesn’t.

“You might have a point. Sometimes I forget I’m a man first and a coach second.”

With all of the things I want to say rolling around in my head just waiting to spill out, I’m surprised with how easily his statement shuts me up. It’s not what I expected to hear and it just proves Ryder’s original statement true. He might be a coach and his first inclination is to think about the game and the team, but he also means no harm.

I need to let this go. I’m getting mad at the wrong person. He would have done what he said and stopped Dillon if he knew, the same way I would have or even Ryder tried to.

“He wasn’t kidding about you.” Ryder jokes. “You really are a pit bull when it comes to him.”

Dillon’s coach chooses that moment to smile and despite my anger at him, the flow of it still there under the surface, buried beneath all the worry, I can’t help it when I smile too.

When it comes to Dillon, I’ll be whatever I have to be as long as it means he’s safe, protected and knows he’s not alone.

“I know it’s asking a lot, but would the both of you mind telling Murphy to come see me when he’s up to it? In light of everything that’s happened today, I’d like to have a sit down with him and talk about next steps. Where we go from here.”

“He’s not going to play.” I state, all traces of my earlier calm gone and the annoyance back in place.

“Not what I mean.” He answers before turning his body and his attention to Ryder, his eyes meeting his and the two of them having a silent conversation, one that’s confusing to me but perfectly normal for them. “Have him come see me, Kane. And young lady?”

“Yes?”

“Murphy’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner. If more players had someone like you, maybe the sport wouldn’t be littered with as much trash as it has been lately.”

When he’s finally turned his back and is making his way down the hall and farther away from us, I turn back to Ryder, wondering if he just heard the same thing I did and is as shocked by it as I am and I’m met with a smile.

“Told you. You’re a force, Cadence Taylor and even my coach knows it.” When I smile he taps me on the shoulder and points toward where I know Dillon still is, but where his expression should turn serious, he laughs. “You think when he comes to we can talk him into having you replace him on the team? Because if you fight anything on a field the way you do in the hospital corridor, we’re a shoe in to win the championship.”

Slapping him on the arm and laughing, I don’t argue when he takes me by the hand and turns me around to face the way his coach just went. With Dillon out of woods and having to wait for him to be moved, along with the god awful coffee still in my hand needing to be disposed of, we’ve officially got time to kill, and if I’ve gotta do it with anyone, I’m glad it’s him.

He might not believe he did anything, but Ryder did more than just help Dillon. He helped me too.

Dillon

Waking up, the first thing that goes through my mind is Cadence and if everything I heard and felt before I went into the operating room was real, and opening my eyes and scanning the room, seeing her in the chair with her hand over mine, her body hanging over the side of the bed, reality sets in.

It wasn’t a dream, she’s really here.

It’s not her that I’m thinking about now though as I just lie here and watch her back rise and fall with the sound of her breath as she’s sleeping so soundly. It’s the other reality I’m facing.

Life without football.

I knew the second I told them I wanted the surgery that when I came out of it, this was going to be the end for me. At the time I was so out of it that it seemed okay and I didn’t feel the pangs of regret I was expecting to, but now is a completely different story. In telling them to go ahead and fix my leg, I’ve most likely given up on the only dream I’ve ever really had.

The only life I could ever imagine myself having.

At least that’s how it is until I look down and see Cadence. If it wasn’t for her, I can’t say I’d have much of a life to live at all. She faced down a man three or four times her size a year ago and this time, she faced down drugs. Never giving up, never walking away even though her heart would be ten times safer if she did.

Making her my life now, it seems wrong, like it’s too much pressure, but with nothing else to fall back on, it’s where my head goes and my heart doesn’t take long to follow. I’ve been calling this girl my world for a year. If she can be something as huge as that, being my life should be a walk in the park.

Football was never supposed to be where I ended up. It was what I chose as a kid because I knew it would piss Bruce off the most. He was never enthused about football because he knew that I was at risk for serious injury and that just wasn’t allowed. If it wasn’t the fights he threw me into that killed me, nothing else was allowed to either.