Page 85 of Sack

He barked a laugh. “God, I hope not.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll meet you at the locker room gate.”

Colt supposed he would need some help the first day or so. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll call the guardhouse and let them know to put you through.”

“Okay.” He was getting ready to disconnect when he heard her say, “Oh, and Colt?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m relieved you’re okay.”

Ivy was waiting at the gate by the time Colt managed to shower, dress, and hobble out there. As soon as she spotted him, she got out of the car and came around to meet him.

“Let me get that.” She grabbed the strap of his duffel.

“I’ve got it, just open the back door.”

“I was only trying to help.”

He hated the hurt he heard in her tone and softened his voice. “I know, and I appreciate that, but for you to take the bag, I’d need to let go of the crutch, and to do that, I’d need something else to hold on to.”

She eyed the strap of his bag and then the crutch. “Oh, right. I guess I didn’t think that through.” She went over and opened the rear door.

News crews came out of the woodwork. Cameramen snapped pictures and reporters started firing off questions.

“Get in the car,” he demanded.

He fielded questions until he saw Ivy was safely behind the wheel, her door closed. He raised a hand, stopping the next reporter from speaking. “No more comments.”

He carefully climbed into the passenger seat, almost catching a microphone in the door as he slammed it. “Get us out of here.”

They were silent as she navigated her way through the stadium and got onto the highway. Colt tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

“You tired?”

“Yeah.” It was a little past ten and after being up since five that morning, he was exhausted.

“You scared me, you know.”

He rolled his head on the headrest and opened an eye. Ivy was concentrating on the road, but her brow was pinched, and her lips were compressed. “I know.”

Still not glancing at him, she continued, “Those seconds when you didn’t move felt like an eternity.”

Reaching over, he pried one of her hands off the steering wheel and entwined their fingers. “It’s a contact sport, people get hurt, but if it makes you feel any better, only one NFL player has ever died on the field and that was due to a heart condition, not an injury.”

“But what about paralysis?” Finally, she glanced his way, and he hated the worry and fear he saw etched on her face.

He squeezed her fingers. “Only a handful of players have ever been paralyzed and only one never walked again and that was all from the last century. Safety has come a long way. Our equipment is too well-engineered, and the number and speed and ability of our medical staff is too great to allow it to happen.”

She glanced at him again, this time giving him a small smile. “That only makes me feel marginally better.”

He wished he could think of something more to say to waylay her fears but marginally was better than nothing. He grunted as he repositioned himself in his seat. Ivy’s car was not made for big football players.

“Are you in pain?”

Shit, the worry was back in her tone again. “I get a few twinges here and there. I’ll take some Advil and ice it when I get home. I’m supposed to keep it elevated to help with the swelling, but I haven’t had a chance to follow doctor’s orders yet.”

“We’ll solve that problem as soon as we get you home.” And then she asked, “They’re sure it’s not broken?”

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