Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
It felt like someone had hit the slow-motion button, decelerating everyone’s movements as Garrett jumped through the air and crossed the line, securing the points. Right after his feet hit the ground, two LA players rammed into him, one helmet to helmet. Like a ragdoll, he flew a few feet, colliding with another player and then dropping to the turf.
Garrett was on his back, arms splayed out. He didn’t move. Why the fuck wasn’t he moving?
My heart stopped beating. I was pretty sure I left it behind when I ran for Garrett on weak legs.
Fuck, please make him okay. He had to be okay.
He was still laid out when I slid to a stop beside him and the people already crowded there. My chest was tight. I couldn’t breathe. Holy fuck, I couldn’t breathe. I’d never hyperventilated before, but I was heading that direction now.
“He was out for a second,” Cross said, “but he’s coming to now.”
All sorts of penalties were called. It was clear it had been an accident, but I didn’t care about that or the outcome of the game, just about G.
“Is he okay?” I asked, my voice broken with fear. The medics were trying to talk to him, asking if he knew his name and where he was, and fuck…why wouldn’t he know that? He had to, right? Logically I knew they were concerned about a head injury, a concussion, but everything was all tangled with worry in my brain.
They ignored me, paying attention to Garrett. “G?” fumbled from my lips, but Garrett didn’t respond. A hand moved to my arm, and I knew it was Tucker, offering me his silent support.
They slid the board under Garrett, making sure not to jostle him because fuck, they were worried about a spine injury too, weren’t they?
“G?” I asked again, though how I expected him to respond, I didn’t know. They had his head and neck stabilized, his body strapped down, and began to lift him with the board. I followed, which I had no fucking business doing. Tucker tried to hold on to me, but I pulled out of his grip as anger at the hit and worry battled inside me.
I saw acknowledgment when Garrett looked at me, like he was trying to say something. My heart jump-started again. “Win for me, Rams. Come find me afterward, but win this motherfucking game for me.” His voice was low and choppy, like he was struggling to get the words out, but I got what he was saying. My place was on this field. I wanted to be with him, but damned if I wasn’t going to get this W, if for no other reason than because Garrett asked me to do it. I wasn’t sure there was anything I wouldn’t do for him. I…Jesus, I needed him, didn’t I? My whole life I’d tried not to need anyone, but I did when it came to Garrett McRae.
“I will,” I replied, then, “And I expect a reward when I see you next.”
Surprise flared in his eyes before they took him off the field. At that moment, I didn’t give a shit who heard me or what conclusions they’d draw. Garrett was hurt, and he was mine. I took care of what was mine.
We sorted through the penalties, and while hurting Garrett had been an accident, we were out to avenge our teammate.
LA didn’t make it easy on us. Garrett’s injury had taken the wind out of our sails a bit, and they’d come back and scored two unanswered touchdowns. We couldn’t seem to get our shit together. We needed our wide receiver back.
We squeaked out the victory. Sure, we saw a twenty-one-point lead whittle down to seven, but I’d thrown a long-bomb to Ward at the end of the game, and gotten one last touchdown to redeem myself. They were out of the playoffs, and we were heading to the second round. None of that mattered as much as the fact that I’d kept my promise to Garrett.
My heart punched against my chest the whole time I got dressed. Tuck tried to talk me down, but I couldn’t see past the all-consuming need clawing at my insides. I needed to see Garrett, to make sure everything was fine. Once I knew he was okay, I’d sort through the rest of it.
“Where’s he at?” I asked Coach, who sighed.
“Cedars-Sinai.”
“Thanks.” I turned and headed for the door. I should have waited until they let us know how he was doing, stay with the team. It wasn’t like I could do anything, but this was Garrett, and rules didn’t apply when it came to him. My insides felt like they were being gnawed away at, this strange emptiness in my chest that I was still trying to work through. I’d felt like that since we called it off, hadn’t I? Kind of empty.