Chapter Eleven
Daniel couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he changed into his pads and uniform before the homecoming game.
“Dude.”
A towel sailed over his head and hit the bank of lockers behind him as he bent to tie his cleats. He looked up to see Coop’s smug grin. “What, asshole?”
“You need to wipe the shit-eating grin off your face. It’s making some of the other guys uncomfortable.”
Daniel straightened up, pulling his gloves on, lacing his fingers together to get them in place and flexing his hands. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Coop looked around and lowered his voice, leaning in close like he was about to share a secret, but the crinkle around his eyes tipped Daniel off to the fact that he was just fucking around. “Well, you know, you’re over there grinning at everyone while they’re stripping down. It’s a little creepy. People might think you’re into dudes or something.”
“You think so, huh? You worried I’m into dudes?" Widening his stance, he bent over as though he was stretching, but snagged the towel off the floor and flung it at his roommate, catching him in the face.
Coop pulled the towel off his face, laughing now. “Seriously, dude. I know you’re not gay. You kick me out often enough to get with your girl. Why so smiley today?”
“What’s wrong with smiling? Smiling’s my favorite.”
Laughing harder, Coop shook his head. “Yeah, except you’re not Will Ferrell or an overgrown child who thinks he’s an elf. Nice try.”
Daniel shrugged, turning to grab his helmet, ready to get on the field and get warmed up before the game. “Elena’s coming today. She hasn’t ever been to a game here. Can you believe it?” He shook his head in disbelief. Intellectually, he knew that there had to be people who never came to a game, but the stands were always full at home games, and football had been such a huge part of his life for so long that the thought of not being at a game seemed crazy. “Anyway, I gave her my extra jersey the other night and even convinced her to wear it.”
“‘Convinced’ her, did you?” Coop made scare quotes with his fingers. “Get her to the edge and hold her there until she caved?”
“Watch it.” Daniel narrowed his eyes at his friend. “I get that you know a lot more than most people about our relationship, but you know I don’t talk about girls in the locker room.”
Coop had the decency to look chagrined, dropping his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to cross the line.” A sly look entered his eyes as he glanced back up at Daniel. “But I’m right, aren’t I? That chick is a hard sell on everything. Hell, it’s taken almost two months for you to get her to admit that you guys are even in a relationship. I can’t imagine you had an easy time convincing her to wear such a blatant symbol of possessiveness.”
Shaking his head, Daniel turned to walk out of the locker room, but Coop hopped up, helmet in hand to follow him out to the field. Daniel glanced at Coop out of the corner of his eyes. “Blatant symbol of possessiveness? Look who’s been paying attention in English Lit.”
Coop punched Daniel in the arm, making him laugh. “Shut up, man. I’m not a moron. I maintain a three point five GPA, so you can fuck off with that shit.”
Daniel chuckled the whole way out to the field, their conversation suspended while they warmed up with the team. When the stadium started filling up with people, he kept some of his attention in that direction, wanting to catch a glimpse of Elena. Would she come alone? Or had she asked Hannah and everyone to come too? She hadn’t decided yet when he’d asked her about it earlier in the week, and he hadn’t wanted to pester her about it, so he hadn’t brought it up again.
When it was time for them to go back to the locker room, she still hadn’t arrived. Her absence made him antsy, and he paced the locker room while they waited to go back out for the rest of the pre-game rituals.
At one point Coop caught his eye. “She said she’ll be here, dude. Don’t freak yourself out.”
He grunted, not acknowledging that Coop was right about his uncharacteristic anxiety. He normally sat with Coop on the bench, joking and relaxing before the time came to head back out. Today he couldn’t manage to even pretend he felt normal. But he also couldn’t give Coop the satisfaction of admitting he was right.
Relief washed over him, and his goofy grin slid back in place, when they jogged onto the field and his eyes found the number twenty-three—his number—in the student section, his red jersey cinched at the waist, a gray sweatshirt poking out from under the too-long sleeves. She clapped, her mouth open in a cheer that blended in with the general noise from the crowd.
Next to her, a blonde bounced, waving a sign that said “Go Marycliff! #23!” On the other side of the blonde stood a larger guy in a red Marycliff Football sweatshirt. Matt. Three other people completed their group, and even though they were too far away for him to make them out, they could only be Lance, Abby, and Megan. She’d gotten the whole crew out to come to homecoming. To see him.
A hand came down on the top of his helmet. “Head in the game, Carter. You’ll have plenty of time to see the president of your fan club afterward.”
He shoved Coop away, who cackled as they lined up for the national anthem. A guy sang it today. Apparently he’d been the guitarist in some teeny-bopper Disney boy band that had a big hit a few years ago before they fizzled out. Now he was a student at Marycliff. What a come-down. Guy sang well, though.
After that, Coop went on the field with Wilkins, the starting quarterback, and two other players for the coin flip. After the flip, the ref turned to Wilkins to find out his decision before indicating that Marycliff would receive the kickoff.
All remnants of his earlier anxiety burned off once he took the field, his attention taken over by the demands of play. While the defense was on the field, he couldn’t help letting his attention wander to where Elena sat with her friends. He loved seeing her there wearing his number. While he’d wanted her to come see him play since the beginning of the season, he hadn’t realized how good it would feel to actually have her there. Especially after the amount of resistance she’d put up to the idea.
Coop had been right that it had taken some convincing, though he was a little off on how he’d achieved it. He’d waited until she was boneless and sated, sleepy and willing to agree to almost anything. Even so, she’d stiffened in his arms, a reflexive refusal on her lips. He’d kissed her before she could voice her protest, though, and used logic to convince her to see things his way. His main point being that if she wore his jersey, none of the other guys would hit on her. Because if guys hit on her, he’d have to stake his claim in other ways, up to and including getting into it with his teammates. So wearing his jersey was a way of protecting herself, but also keeping the peace on the team.
She’d rolled her eyes at him, which had made him smile, but agreed to wear the jersey.
They started the second half with a four point lead. So far it had been a good game. They were winning, and expected to be able to extend their lead by at least a touchdown and hold the other team off.
The Marycliff defense forced a turnover, gaining possession of the ball again. Daniel took his place for the play that had scored them a touchdown late in the first quarter. This time Wilkins planned on passing to him. He flexed his hands, wiggling his fingers as he waited for the snap, his cleats digging into the grass as he took off down the side of the field headed for the end zone, looking back over his shoulder after he’d run at least ten yards.
The football sailed through the air in a perfect arc, overestimating his speed just a hair. He leaned forward, bobbling the ball for half a second before pulling it in, holding it close to his body, ducking his head and dropping his shoulder, veering to the side to avoid the tackle that suddenly popped up in front of him.
Arms wrapped around his hips. He kept moving, trying to shake off his would-be tackler, but a hit from the side took him down, toppling to the side, the guy wrapped around him providing a fulcrum that sent him crashing into the ground head first.
He had time to blink at the dull ache in his head and neck before the world exploded, and all he knew was darkness and pain.
Elena stood, her hands covering her mouth as the players on top of Daniel got up one by one, leaving him lying on the field, unmoving.
He’d been powering through the guy trying to tackle him one minute, and then he got hit from the side, taking him down. Another player from the other team had been on his way to assist with the tackle and couldn’t stop in time before getting to the pile, tripping and falling on top of the other three players.
The ball still lay cradled between his arm and his side, a fact which Elena knew the team—including Daniel—would appreciate, but she was more concerned about the fact that his hand no longer actively held the ball. His sideways somersault through the air had been spectacular, provoking sounds of awe and disbelief from the stands. But he wasn’t moving.
The refs kept the players at a distance while coaches and trainers made their way to Daniel. With four people clustered around him, she couldn’t see more than his feet, but when they twitched she couldn’t hold back the sob that had been building while he lay motionless on the ground.
Hannah’s hand rubbed up and down her back while she choked back her tears. This response was out of proportion to what was going on. She knew it. Matt’s gentle voice, and his hand joining Hannah’s confirmed it.
“Hey. He’s going to be okay. It’s probably a concussion, but he’ll be back to normal in a week or two at the worst. He’ll be fine, Elena.”
She nodded, appearing to agree, both grateful for his reassurance and annoyed at his casual dismissal of the concussion. She knew too much about brain injuries to be so unconcerned. But now was not the time to get into that. Lots of people had concussions all the time and didn’t undergo serious personality changes. And things had been too crowded to know what exactly had happened. Clearly he’d lost consciousness, but beyond that she didn’t know.
Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down, wiping at her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt. He’d be fine. He’d be fine. She repeated it to herself over and over, as though whether or not that were true depended on her saying it again and again.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably just a few minutes, the coaches and trainers backed off, one of the trainers helping Daniel to his feet. He held a hand up to the crowd, which erupted in cheers at his wave of reassurance. But Elena felt less reassured when one of the trainers drew Daniel’s other arm across his shoulders and helped him off the field, Daniel obviously leaning on the trainer for support.
She sat down hard, her hands over her mouth again. Would every game be this bad? How many more games were there? She didn’t think very many, but even so. She didn’t know if she could stand watching this happen again.
And what if she wasn’t there? Would she know if he got hurt? Would he tell her right away, or would she have to wait to find out after he got home? What if he got hit hard enough or enough times that he started having problems? And that only accounted for this season. And yeah, he’d said he’d be student teaching next fall, so he wouldn’t have time to play.
But what if he listened to Coop and decided to go for the Regional Combines? Or what if he got scouted? Coop had said that since Chris got drafted, there’d been noises about NFL scouts coming to their games. What if that actually happened? Would he want to go pro? Who was she kidding—what football player would turn down the chance to keep playing the game they loved if offered the opportunity?
A gentle squeeze on her arm brought her out of the swirl of questions going in circles in her head. Matt squatted next to her in front of Hannah’s seat, his blue eyes concerned. “Hey. He’s going to be okay, Elena. The team trainers are good. He’ll be put on concussion protocol and they might send him for a CT to be safe, but I’ve seen guys hit harder than that and they were fine. He’s going to be fine.” His voice carried the weight of authority and conviction, and Elena wanted to believe him. But she’d been told before that someone she loved would be fine.
And the last time she’d talked to her mom, she’d said that her dad had refused to continue therapy, had panic attacks almost every time he had to get into a car, and had become more firmly ensconced in his spot on the couch. Hardly anyone’s definition of fine.
She wanted to believe Matt, his gaze encouraging and sincere. But she knew better.
Shaking her head, she stood. “I can’t—“ She swallowed. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”
Matt stood too. “Elena, wait—“
She shook her head again. “I have to go.”
Stumbling over the legs of the other students in the stands, she muttered, “Excuse me,” and, “I’m sorry,” to everyone between her and the aisle, her only goal to get out of there as fast as she could.