Page 32 of Closing the Distance

“Shoulder hurts.”

“He hit his head too,” the medic shares.

The doc nods. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” I shift, trying to get up, but three pairs of arms grip me and help me to my feet. Fans cheer as I slowly walk off the field with Romel at my back and the doc and medic on either side of me. The doc ushers me straight to the medical tent set up on the sidelines, and a part of me wishes we were doing this in the locker room so I could check my damn phone.

The game resumes play while he runs through a series of questions designed to help determine if someone has a concussion. I answer them all. My head might still throb, but I’ve had concussions before, and they didn’t feel like this. I’m not confused, disoriented, or dizzy.

But I am distracted, and that’s a stupid thing to be in my position.

The doc stands tall, shoulders back. “I can clear you for a concussion, but how’s the shoulder?” He moves my arm, and at my wince, he frowns. He pushes on a couple of spots that are especially tender and doesn’t miss the way my teeth clench or the hiss of pain when he tries to rotate my arm back.

“I’d like to check this shoulder out in the locker room where we can get these pads off and see what’s really going on.”

Focusing on the ground in front of me, I nod. “Understood.”

When we exit the medical tent, the fans cheer wildly in the stands, and I plaster on my fake smile and wave to them, easing their concerns about my well-being.Guilt eats away at my gut when I see my replacement not moving as fluidly with the rest of the Fierce Four as I do.

I should be out there, and I’m pissed at myself for not being able to compartmentalize. Casting a glance, I find the trainer I talked to before the game who was supposed to keep an eye out for Lexi. I gesture for him to come over to me as the doc and I make our way to the locker room.

“She still isn’t at her seat,” he says without preamble.

My jaw clenches, but there’s nothing I can do. No one else has her number, and I don’t have it memorized—although I will after today—to have someone else call her. I’m going to need to make some changes so this doesn’t happen again. I can’t afford to be this distracted during my games, and apparently where Lexi’s concerned, my brain can’t just put her in a box and set her aside to focus on football.

The walk to the locker room feels like it takes an eternity, but the second we get in there, I ignore the team doctor who tells me to hop on the table that’s been set up and go straight to my locker, grabbing my phone.

There’s a text, and I can’t get my fingers to move fast enough to open it, my heart already racing and images of all those worst-case scenarios flashing through my mind.

Lexi

Hey Ty, I’m so sorry. I’m not going to make it tonight. I thought the morning sickness was over, but apparently not. I can barely keep anything down right now and feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I hope you see this before the game starts. Score lots of points! (Or whatever you say for football…you’ll have to teach it to me someday).

My whole body sags down onto the bench in front of our lockers, and I push my fingers through my hair, taking a long, deep breath of relief. She’s okay. Nothing happened to her.

“Ty?”

I glance over at the doc and the medic who must’ve entered after us, both of them staring at me with arched brows. “Sorry. My girl was supposed to be here today, and when she didn’t show up, I was concerned.”

The doctor frowns. “The only thing you should be concerned about right now is that shoulder. Come over here and let’s get you checked out.”

The doc examines my shoulder without all my football gear in the way and determines I tweaked it enough that he’d rather I sit out the rest of the game and let it rest. I stay in the locker room until halftime when the rest of the team comes in. Romel, Dom, and Gabe head straight for me.

“You good?” Romel asks.

“Sore shoulder. Doc wants me to sit out the rest of the game.”

“Damn,” Dom says, his brows furrowed in concern.

I point my chin the direction they came from. “How’s it going out there?”

“We’re ahead,” Gabe says.

“And we’ll stay that way. Their offense won’t get past us,” Dom adds, his tone brooking no argument.

I should be on the field with them. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and I feel like I’m letting them down because I lost my focus and let a run go south.

Gabe claps me on my nonwrapped shoulder. “Don’t worry. They won’t score on us. We’ve got it covered, okay? You just rest up for the next game.”

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