Days of You and Me (38 page)

The Rebels’ cannon fired, and celebratory music erupted from the PA system. Lisa smothered me in a bear hug, and Joe was giving high-fives to anyone who’d hold up a hand. But in front of me, Ellie was leaning forward, and when she turned her head, her eyes were troubled.

“Corey?” I searched for his number, worried that he’d taken a hit I hadn’t seen or gotten hurt in that last tackle. But no, there he was, trotting toward the end zone . . . where a couple of Rebels and even two New York players were kneeling next to a prone body.

The refs were there, too, waving to the Richmond sideline, and the coach and someone else I didn’t recognize—was that Steve, the team’s trainer?—jogged over.

My heart, which had been thumping in joy a few minutes before, now came to a sickening, thudding stop.
That was Leo
. It was his body sprawled over the green grass, and he wasn’t moving.

Next to me, Lisa had gone still. The whole crowd had quieted as the announcer’s voice came over the PA system.

“That’s number twenty-two Leo Taylor who’s down. Taylor just scored for the Rebels. Coaches and the trainer are out there, checking on the situation.”

I hadn’t realized that I’d brought my hands together under my chin, clutching at the collar of my coat, as I murmured the same words over and over again.

“Get up. Get up. Get up.”

It seemed like an eternity before the coach stepped back, giving me a clearer view of what was going on. I sagged in relief when I saw that Leo was sitting—still holding the ball. He pointed to the New York player who’d tackled him and then down to his knee.

A cart rolled onto the field as the coach and trainer helped lift Leo to his feet—well, foot—and into the back of it.

“God, not the knee.” Joe rubbed his jaw. “The knee . . . that could be bad. At this point, that could be a career-ender.”

Something inside me snapped, and I wheeled on Joe Taylor. “Shut up. Would you just fucking
shut up
? He’s sitting up, can’t you see that? He’s awake. He can talk. He wasn’t knocked out, and he’s—he’s going to be okay.” I reached down for Ellie, grabbing for her hand. “I need to get down there, El. Can you get me to the locker room? That’s where they’ll take him, right?”

I wasn’t sure why I thought Ellie could get me to any place I myself couldn’t go, but I knew I needed whatever expertise she might have right now. Ellie always seemed to know who to talk to in order to get stuff done, and that was what I needed. I had to get to Leo.

“Of course. Come on.” She stepped over the person next to her to get to the main aisle.

I glanced at Joe, who was still staring out at the field. I knew I should apologize, but right now, it just wasn’t in me. As I shimmied past Lisa, she grabbed my hand.

“Text me as soon as you know anything.”

“I will.” I squeezed her fingers and then shook them loose so that I could follow Ellie.

As we reached the door to the box, I turned in time to see Leo settling onto a cart, which then sped away down the sideline toward the tunnel.

“Let’s go. They’ll take him to the training room for the doctors to take a look. We might not get in there, but we’ll get as close as we can, so you can see him the minute they give the okay.”

I nodded. We stepped into the elevator that would take us down there, and Ellie gave me a side hug.

“It’s going to be okay, Quinn. Believe that. He’s going to be fine.”

We’d been waiting in the empty, echoing corridor outside the locker room for twenty minutes. The guard had kindly but firmly told us that we couldn’t go any further, but after Ellie had cajoled him, he’d promised to give us any update he heard and to talk to the trainer about letting us in as soon as it was possible.

People swooshed through the hall, to and fro, but none of them showed us the least bit interest. A couple of reporters straggled down, but a non-life-threatening injury to a second year player who was only just beginning to show his strength wasn’t exactly breaking news. I tried not to be bitter about that, thinking of all the times the press had hounded us about stupid stuff since Leo had been in college.

One of the journalists was live streaming the game on his phone, with the volume pumped. Apparently the Rebels had made the extra point after Leo’s touchdown, but New York had come back to score ten points after that—a fast touch down and then a field goal. They were a mere field goal from tying it up as we went into the fourth quarter.

There was a lull in the game when New York challenged the referee’s ruling on the field. One of the announcers covering the live stream spoke up.

“Any word yet on Leo Taylor? In case you didn’t see it, folks, he was taken off the field after he scored a touchdown for Richmond. Looked like maybe a knee issue.”

“What I hear from the Rebels’ organization is that it looks like a torn ACL. That’s a tough one, you know, Ken?”

The other announcer was apparently a little more optimistic. “Well, Merle, this kid is young, you know, and strong. He’s shown a lot of promise, and if Richmond sticks with him, I have a feeling he could come back from this an even better player. You’re not wrong, though. It’s a painful injury, and a long recovery.”

“Turn it off.” I ground out the words between clenched teeth. “Turn it off. Or turn off the sound.”

The reporter frowned at me, but he bumped down the volume so that I didn’t have to hear any more doom and gloom from that quarter.

My hands were shaking. I didn’t know what Leo would do if his career was over. He was smart and talented, without a doubt, but he’d never thought seriously about any other career. He had his degree, so a new job wasn’t impossible but . . .

I scowled, angry at myself.
What the hell was I doing?
I was defaulting to the worst-case scenario, sure that if something could go wrong, it would. I thought I’d gotten beyond this kind of thinking. That second announcer—he was right. Leo was young, strong and determined. No matter what happened, he could and would come back from this. I was going to make sure of it. I’d do anything I could to help him.

Digging in my coat pocket, I found my phone, opened my contacts and scrolled down to hit one name. I held up a finger to Ellie and walked a little way down the hall for some privacy.

The phone only rang once on the other end before a familiar voice answered.

“Quinn? You okay, honey? What’s going on there? We were watching the game, but Allan wouldn’t let me call you until we’d heard something definite.”

“Kara.” Just hearing her speak gave me comfort. “I don’t know anything for sure yet, but they’re saying torn ACL. I mean, that’s what the press is saying. I’m standing outside the fucking locker room and no one’s bothered to give me an update.”

“Yeah, that’s typical,” she sighed. “But okay. A torn ACL. What can we do?”

“Doctors, Kara. Hospitals. The very best. I need names, and I need numbers. Hook me up with the doctors and surgeons who can get Leo back to playing as soon as he can. And anything else, too—rehab, physical therapy, you name it.”

“I’m on it.” As always, when given a mission, Kara didn’t skip a beat. “I’ll call you back as soon as I have information. Now you try to keep calm and know that everything’s going to be all right, okay? Is someone with you?”

I glanced down the hall. “Yeah, Ellie Iverson’s here. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks, Kara.”

“You know we’ll do anything and everything we can, sweetheart. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up, and I slid my phone back into my pocket.

Ellie tilted her head as I walked back. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just—”

The door to the players’ area opened, and a young guy I didn’t recognize stuck his head out, scanning the hall. “Is there a Quinn here? Quinn, uh, Russell?”

I lifted my hand, suddenly struck mute.

“Yeah, if you want to come with me . . . Leo said I should get you.”

I looked over at Ellie, who gave me a little shove. “Go. I’ll wait here. Call or text if you have news.”

I stumbled through the door, following the kid who I decided was probably on staff, somehow. He didn’t offer me any information, and I didn’t ask.

When we came to another door, he gave one brisk knock and then pushed it open. “Go on ahead in. He’s waiting for you.”

I’d expected a training room to be some kind of cold, sterile environment, but it was actually well-lit, with a carpeted floor, mirrored walls and rows of wooden exam tables covered in gray pads. Sitting up on the second one in was Leo, grinning at me and holding out his hand.

Relief coursed through me, making me weak. “You scared the shit out of me. God! I was terrified. I—” The tears that I’d refused to cry earlier came flooding out now, and I sniffled as I finally approached the table. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again, do you hear?”

“Mia. C’mere.” Leo wrapped his arms around me. I saw that his right knee was wrapped, the uniform pant pushed up to his thigh. “I’m okay. See? All in one piece.”

I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, breathing in the musky mix of sweat and football. “I couldn’t see you at first. They just said you were
down
. I was so, so scared.” I lifted my head, grimacing a little. “I might have screamed at your dad. Maybe even cursed a little. I dropped the F-bomb on him, Leo.”

He shook with laughter. “Now that I wish I’d seen.” He skimmed my hair back from my face. “Did you see my touchdown?”

“Of course I did. It was beautiful.” I kissed his jaw and straightened up a little. “Now about your knee. I know it might seem bad now, but try not to worry. I already called Kara and Allan, and they’re on the case. They’re going to set you up with the very best doctors and hospitals in the world, and we’re going to make sure you have the latest treatment. You’ll be back on the field before you know it, and it’s going to be fine. You’ll be better than ever.”

“Mia—”

“I know, I know. It hurts, and you’re probably scared, too, but Leo, you were born to play football, and as long as I’m breathing, you’re not going to let a little torn ACL get in your way.”

“Babe.” He laid a finger on my lips. “Shhh. I don’t know where you got your info, but it’s not torn. It’s sprained, and I might miss a game. Maybe two. But I’ll be able to play in the post-season.”

“Sprained?” I wanted to whoop with joy. “Are you sure?”

Leo shrugged. “They’re going to send me for scans just in case, of course, but the doctor and the trainer are both pretty damn positive. Nothing to worry about. They said I got off lucky, considering how bad it could have been.”

“Oh, my God.” I was crying again, holding onto Leo. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy.”

“Hey.” He held me back a little, studying my face. “You really called Kara and Allan Crocker and had them looking for doctors for me? I mean . . .” He lifted one large shoulder. “This could’ve been a perfect excuse for me to give up the game, right? But you were going to move heaven and earth to help me get back out there.”

I poked one finger into his chest. “Don’t make me regret that. If you go out there again and get really hurt, I’ll . . .” I paused, thinking. “I’ll let Zelda do to you what she threatened back in college. You know, the dick and the cutting off and the grinding and the dogs?”

He paled a little. “Got it. As far as it’s in my power, I won’t get hurt.” He framed my face with one hand. “But I can’t tell you what it means to me—that you were ready to have my back if I needed it.” He drew me closer and brushed his lips across mine. “I love you, babe. So much.”

I threaded my arms under his and held on tight. “I know.”

Joe had been true to his word and taken all of us out for steak after the game. The Rebels had held on to their lead to win, so we had a lot to celebrate.

So much.

The parents had gathered at the restaurant ahead of Leo and me, since we’d had to go to the hospital for the knee scans. Although the films still had to be checked by the orthopedic surgeon the next day, the initial reports were a confirmation of the trainer’s verdict: sprain only. One to two weeks of rest.

Corey and Ellie had joined us to eat, too. Joe, who must have been feeling particularly generous in the wake of his son’s touchdown and injury, had invited them. We had a wonderful time, eating, drinking and laughing. I noticed, though, that Joe didn’t say much to me, even after I’d apologized for my outburst.