Page 128 of The Best Friend Power Play

"Okay," I manage to grit out, my entire body throbbing in pain.

Despite doing everything right, despite it being a textbook block, as I get placed onto the stretcher, the realization hits me—this could be the injury that takes me out forever.

Hannah tears into the medical room at the stadium and runs over to me, propped in a seated position on the gurney. "Are you okay?"

She's been crying and her hair's a mess…but seeing her in my jersey brings me the first bit of relief I've had since I took that fall.

I shake my head and reach out for her hand. "It's not looking good." I try to bite back my emotions. "I'm going to need surgery, but even after that, my chances of ever playing again are"—I choke up—"slim to none."

"Oh, Culver."

She leans down and hugs me, her coconut scent filling my nostrils.

She's crying.

My hold over my emotions breaks, and I start crying, too.

A member of the medical staff draws the curtain shut to give us some privacy.

"It's going to be okay, baby," she says, rubbing circles on my back. "It's going to be okay."

EPILOGUE

Hannah

6 months later…

"Amore, sono a casa," I call out as I open the door.

Despite having been living in Italy for the past five months, I'm pretty sure I'm still not nailing the pronunciation of 'Honey, I'm home,' in Italian.

"In the kitchen, babe," Culver calls out. "Also, are you alone?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, kicking off my shoes. "I'm alone."

From time to time, I might bring back a friend from art class, which has everything to do with making a new group of friends here and nothing at all to do with showing off Culver's exceptional culinary skills.

But today, it's just me.

"Just checking," he calls out.

I'm intrigued as I walk down the hallway of the chateau we've rented out in the southern Italian city of Positano, headed for the kitchen. "Why were you asking if I was alon?—"

I stop talking.

Stop walking.

Start shaking my head.

What…what am I looking at?

Culver glances over his shoulder, his cheeky smile and dimples on full display.

They're not the only cheeky thing on full display.

My gaze drops to his firm, round, and bare backside. "Why are you wearing an apron? Correction." I lift a finger. "Why are you wearing only an apron?"

He laughs and turns around.

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