I wake up with gritty, swollen eyes as someone wraps a blood pressure cuff around my arm and squeezes the bulb to pump it up. Damn, that’s tight. I attempt to sit up, but the pain keeps me down. I forgot about my ankle.

I hiss through my teeth as the nurse says, “Now sit still princess. No movement. I have to take your vitals and prep you for surgery.”

“What time is it?” I choke. My mouth is dry as dirt. Right on cue, my stomach growls loudly.

“It’s just before 7:00 am. Do you want me to wake your man up? We’re gonna roll you downstairs in a little while.”

Oh shit. I completely forgot Kyle was here. My breath catches in my throat when I realize he’s still on the couch, and I smile. He’s scrunched up in the fetal position with the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin. He must be cold…and very uncomfortable. The angelic look on his face causes me to chuckle out loud. Then I notice how perfect the stubble is growing on his face. It’s not actually stubble. It’s a definite, well-trimmed beard. It’s gotten thicker as the season progresses, but he keeps it perfectly beardscaped. My fingers twitch; I want to reach out and touch it. Is it soft?

“No, that’s okay,” I tell her. “I’ll wake him. Thanks,” I murmur, swallowing hard in attempt to wet my throat.

“Kyle,” I croak out. Nothing. He doesn’t even flinch. I clear my throat.

“Kyle,” I say a little louder. He rolls his shoulder in response, but still doesn’t open his eyes. I pull the pillow from behind my head and toss it over onto his head. It bounces off and falls to the floor, but he just lies there, as still as a corpse. All right. It’s time to get up. Let’s see if this works.

The nurse is giggling at my attempts to wake him up. She moves to nudge his leg, but I snap my finger at her and place my index finger to my mouth, smiling and signaling for her to be quiet. Let’s see if we can tease him awake.

“You know,” I wink at her, “I’d really like a quick sponge bath before surgery. Wash away the germs and all. Do you think we have time for that?” I ask innocently.

“Sure. As long as it’s quick. You go ahead and take off your gown, and I’ll get a tub and some water,” she replies, moving into the bathroom and running the sink water.

“Great!” I start rustling with my gown, loud enough to make noise. I watch his shoulders twitch and his closed lids start fluttering. He heard us, but he’s faking sleep. How long before one lid peeps open to see what’s going on?

“The damn gown is stuck under me and I can’t twist my leg without it hurting. Can you help me get it free?” I’m talking to the nurse, but I’m looking straight at Kyle’s face. We both make an excessive bit of noise rustling the sheets and blankets away from my leg, both giggling under our breath. His lids are clamped shut tightly. He’s afraid to look. This is too funny.

“There you go. Here, I’ll just place your gown behind you. Wow. Look at that breast tattoo. Where’d you get that sassy lookin’ ink? That’s naughty! I like it,” she winks and smiles at me.

“Stupid ex-boyfriend. You know how it goes. They have to mark you in some way. He was fun. Very naughty, but fun,” I tell her. Oh, she’s good, because Kyle’s eyes fly open and he sits up quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and averting them away from us. The look on his face is sheer curiosity. We burst out laughing.

“Kyle. You can look. I promise, I’m decent,” I tease.

“You girls are mean,” he clears this throat, “waking a man up like that.”

“It’s your own fault for being so hard to wake up,” I squeak.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been so hard to wake up if someone didn’t wanna talk my ear off after midnight,” he growls, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Damn. Someone’s not a morning person. “I wouldn’t even be in this situation if you had better control over the basketball with those monster hands you got,” I sling back.

“Why were you sitting so close to the sideline? Surely that camera zooms,” he sasses.

“Ahem. I hate to break this up, but…sis, aren’t you due in surgery in an hour?” My brother, Nick, and his pregnant wife Jenna, are both standing there with big, goofy smiles on their faces, clearly enjoying the back and forth of the moment. I reach up and hug both of them, then introduce them to Kyle without a second thought.

“Lover’s quarrel?” Jenna has the balls to ask.

“No!” we both snap.

“This is my assignment and he’s the one who fell on me during his game. Jackass.”

Nick raises his eyebrow. “And why are you here, exactly, Kyle?”

“I came by to check on her and see if she was okay last night. But when I got here, she was all alone and that’s not right. So I stayed, you know, to give her someone to talk to. Little did I know she talks all night long and she’s a witch in the mornings. I would have left.”

He finishes tying his shoes, stands, and folds the blanket, glaring at me as he stuffs them back into the closet. Too bad I can’t argue with him about his last statement. I am a witch in the morning without my coffee and some food, but I’m not allowed to eat.

The nurse and orderly enter the room and begin the prep me to go. They direct my entourage to the surgery waiting room and then wheel me away, as quick as that. There’s no time for more than a few words of encouragement, love, and luck. “I’ll see you on the other side if they don’t kill me,” I holler over my shoulder as they push me out into the hallway.

* * *

 “So, Kyle, would you like to head to the cafeteria and get some breakfast with us? The baby and I are starving. We left early to get here before she went in, and I couldn’t eat before we left because of my morning sickness,” Jenna states.

“Sure. If you don’t mind eating with a stranger,” I reply. I can always eat.

“Oh, we’ve met plenty of Aran’s boyfriends. We can handle it. We’re not shy,” she says, pulling her husband’s arm towards the door.

“Oh, Aran’s not my girlfriend. She told you the truth. I’m the one who landed on her and caused this mess.”

“Ahh, I can’t wait to hear this story. Let’s go eat,” Nick says to his wife’s belly, clapping his hands together and rubbing it.

We make our way down to a crowded cafeteria. Damn. There’s food everywhere. The place is an athlete’s best dream. I load up on some protein and carbs before winding my way to the booth where they’re already seated.

“So, Kyle, what have the doctors said? All I was told on the phone was that she needed a surgery on her ankle and that it was scheduled for this morning,” he states.

“Well, she has a concussion and her two lower ribs are broken. She has a shattered right ankle that needs a plate with a few pins and screws; that’s what they’re doing now. Most of the hardware is temporary, but she’ll need another surgery in about twelve weeks to remove some of it. Then she’ll need four weeks of physical therapy since she’ll lose muscle mass in her leg. She won’t be able to walk on it,” I tell them as I scarf down my omelet. “That’s pretty much all they said last night in the ER,” I finish after I swallow my last bite.

“Well, shit,” Jenna says frustrated. “Nick, she won’t be able to drive. I guess we better plan on getting her to doctor appointments, work, the grocery store and a million other things that happen in daily life that she won’t be able to do for a while.”

“No, you won’t,” I assure them. “That’s what I’m gonna do. I’m the one that hurt her. I should do those things for her.”

“But you’ve got classes, practice, and games. Away games to be more specific. You won’t be able to handle it all,” he notes.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. We’ll have to coordinate,” I say with a heavy sigh. “But I wanna do most of it. She’s my responsibility until she’s all better,” I lock my jaw, showing them I mean business, because I do mean it. I’m gonna take care of her. I did this. It’s only right.

“If you’ve got a piece of paper, I’ll write down my practice schedule and my classes. You can look on the school website to get the game schedule. We’ll figure it out,” I tell them. “When is the baby due?” I ask.

“Not soon enough,” Jenna grunts as she pushes herself off the cafeteria seat. “Little munchkin should be here near the middle of March.”

We make our way to the surgery waiting room. I immediately grab one of the extended window seats and stretch out my long legs. The room is fairly empty with just a few people sitting and flipping through magazines or messing with their phones. I pull mine out and see I have a text from Luke.

L: Dude, coach is looking for you. He’s on his way to the hospital.

K: Fuck. Did you tell him I was here all night?

L: Hell no.

K: Thanks, man. I owe you.

L: Told him you went early because of a study group thing later.

K: Be home mid-afternoon. Thanks, bro.

About 10 minutes later, Coach Hack enters the waiting area and taps me on the head. “Thought we were coming together?”

“Sorry, Coach. Got home and remembered I have a group study session this afternoon. Since we never set a time, I just thought I would come and get it over with. She’s in surgery now.”

“Surgery? For what?” he asks, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Her ankle. We shattered it when we landed on her. It must have been bent back under her as she knelt. It’s pretty messed up. She needs plates and screws,” I finish explaining.

Aran’s brother approaches us. “Excuse me, gentleman. Do either of you want anything to drink? I’m gonna head down and get something for myself and Jenna. By the way, I’m Aran’s brother, Nick Bailey.” He extends his hand to Coach.

Coach clasps it and introduces himself. “Coach Hackerman, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Nick shifts to the right and points to Jenna “This is my wife Jenna.” Coach nods in her direction.

“Nick Bailey? As in ESPN Nick Bailey?” Coach asks.

“Uh, yeah, that would be me,” he says. “Can I get you anything?” he repeats.

“Ahh, that explains the football pictures in her portfolio.” Coach says. “Uh, no. I’m good right now. Kyle?”

“No, Nick. I’m good. Thanks though,” I tell him.

Coach and I sit in silence for a while, doing nothing but flipping through our phones and reading. Every now and again, I glance up to check the progress of her surgery on the status TV. It now says she’s being moved to recovery. The doctor will be in any moment, I assume.

I sit and watch Nick and Jenna for a while. He’s holding her hand and playing with her fingers as they have a quiet conversation about the baby’s room. She gives him soft smiles, and teases him about changing diapers. He constantly touches her arm or rubs on her belly. You can tell they’re happy. I wonder how they met and what their story is. It was probably perfect from the beginning.

I’ve never seen that kind of love. Dad left us when I was a baby. Mom struggled, working several jobs for a while when I was a kid. She never had time to date. One day, other kids starting showing up at our house and Mom fed them too. She’d become a foster parent, and would get some kind of money from the state for taking care of them. She thought it was just five more of me, but she thought wrong, I guess.

Foster kids come with all kinds of mental and physical baggage. Sometimes they would run away and we’d all split up and go looking for them. They eventually came home, or got placed with another family. They constantly get in fights. Mom aged more and more, every time something happened. But she never gave up on them or never considered not taking in another when one left us. There was always another one. They always came first.

She missed all of my basketball games, all of my school functions, and all of my parent-teacher conferences. I tried my best to be a good kid and not give her any problems. God knows she had enough on her plate. She’s lived her whole life worrying about others and she always put the foster kids ahead of herself and me. I’m not gonna live my life that way. She and I will be first. Always.