“You know me. I like a little drama.” She coughed. “How did you find out I was here?”
“Brooklyn called me. She tried calling your brother too, but his phone was off.”
Did they get through to him? Did he know his sister was in the hospital, or was Coach holding off on telling him until after the match? He should be at the stadium by now, but if he did know what happened, he’d be here. Vincent’s care for Scarlett was one of the things I’d never questioned about him.
“He always turns his phone off before a match. Said it’s too distracting,” Scarlett murmured.
I smoothed her hair back from her forehead, careful not to exert too much pressure lest I aggravate her injury. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I got dizzy and hit my head.”
“That’s not nothing.” My hand lingered over the gauze. “How much does it hurt?” I asked quietly.
Not just the injury, but everything.
Her silence said more than words could.
Jagged shards raked through my insides. My heart felt like cracked glass, its pieces held together only by the sound of Scarlett’s breaths.
I hated this. I hated the asshole whose car rammed into hers, I hated that medical technology wasn’t advanced enough to take away her pain, and most of all, I hated how helpless I was.
Despite all my money and all my fame, I couldn’t do a thing.
“It’s not too bad.” Her voice grew fainter. “I pushed a little too hard during rehearsals, that’s all. I’ll be fine after some rest.”
My shoulders stiffened.
Her feelings toward the showcase ran deeper than the mere act of performance, and I had to tread carefully with what I said next.
“The showcase is in December,” I reminded her gently. “You have two months of rehearsals left.”
Based on the stubborn jut of her chin, I knew it was a lost cause before she even responded. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I can make it to December.”
Frustration swelled. She was already killing herself to prove she could make it through rehearsals like everyone else. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her go through two more months of this.
Her collapse wasn’t the result of one bad day; it had to be an accumulation of them. I wasn’t sure what hurt more-the fact that she hid it from me or the fact that I hadn’t been there to notice.
My schedule was always packed during the season, and we’d been prepared to spend more time apart than over the summer, but dammit, I should’ve been there.
“I’ll always take care of you.” I cupped her cheek, my chest aching. “But promise me you’ll also take care of yourself.”
Scarlett’s eyes gleamed with emotion, and she responded with the tiniest of nods.
“I’ll leave so you can get some rest.” I leaned down and brushed her lips with mine. If I had the choice, I’d stay by her side until she was discharged, but that would only distract her. She needed to sleep. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”
I stood and turned to leave.
“Wait. I just saw the time.” Scarlett’s voice gained a modicum of strength along with panic. “Your match. You have to go. It’s starting in?-“
“I’m not going.” I’d already instructed Sloane to call Coach and tell him what happened. He would give me absolute hell for it later, but I’d deal with that when the time came.
“What?” Her eyes widened. “But it’s against Holchester. It’s…Asher. You have to go. I’m fine.” She coughed again, her breathing growing labored. “There’s no point in you staying here when I’m sleeping.”
“There is a point.” My jaw tightened. “When Brooklyn called and told me you were in the hospital…there are no words to describe how I felt. It was like the world had collapsed and buried me beneath its rubble. And even though she told me you were alive and that you weren’t in serious danger, I couldn’t think, couldn’t even fucking breathe until I saw it with my own two eyes.” I shook my head, my throat taut with emotion. “If I left now and went to the match, it wouldn’t matter. I’d spend the entire time thinking about you. I’d be a liability more than anything else.”
Prior to Scarlett, I would’ve crawled through a sea of broken glass before I missed a match. Football was the most important thing in my life. It always had been, and I thought it always would be.
But I’d finally found something-some one-that I cared about more.
It didn’t matter that I’d spent weeks anticipating today’s match against Holchester or that my pride was on the line. It didn’t matter that Coach was probably furious with me and that the fans would be too.
Scarlett was more important than all of that, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t leave her side as long as she was here.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small.
My heart squeezed for the millionth time that day. “Don’t be sorry, darling.” I rubbed the tear away with my thumb. “It’s not your fault.”
“But-“
“No. I chose to come here, and I chose to stay here. Do not feel guilty about me missing the match. That’s my problem to deal with. You just focus on resting so we can get you out of here as soon as possible. I’d hate to subject you to hospital food for longer than necessary.”
Scarlett’s laugh came out as a wisp of a sound, but it was enough for me.
Our conversation must’ve spent her energy because she didn’t protest further. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I waited until her breathing settled into a steady rhythm before I stepped into the hall.
Brooklyn and Carina were huddled over the former’s phone, wearing identical masks of apprehension.
They raised their heads when they heard the door open, and my temporary relief from seeing Scarlett morphed into fresh concern.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
They exchanged glances.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news twice in one day, but…” Brooklyn handed me her phone. “You should see this.”
I took it, and my skin immediately went ice-cold.
Someone had captured a video of me arriving at the hospital and sprinting toward the entrance. Going through the side was more private than going through the front, but I guess it still wasn’t private enough.
Whoever took the video had uploaded it to social media seven minutes ago, and it already had over fifty thousand views and hundreds of comments.
Once the paps picked up on this, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out who I was here to see. After that, it’d take an even shorter leap for them to connect the dots of our relationship.
I’d missed a huge match against Holchester for her. There was only one reason why I’d do that.
“I’m sorry,” Carina said. She must’ve come to the same conclusions I had. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”
“No. It’s…” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “No. We’ll deal with it. It’ll be fine. Thank you.”
It’s not fine. I batted away the voice that told me our secret, the secret Scarlett and I had worked so hard to keep for so long, would soon be out of the bag in the most public way possible.
One thing at a time.
The news hadn’t broken yet. Until then, I needed to call Sloane-a quick scan of my messages revealed she’d already seen the video-then call Coach, then find the doctor and figure out a way to make Scarlett’s recovery more comfortable.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.