Page 259 of Wrath

My face and chest burn and my heart pounds so hard I feel dizzy as I dart out onto the field. Once I start, some of the nerves fall away, and I run faster, harder. I'm almost to him when some guy breaks from the swarm and steps into my path, holding his arms out. I run around that fucker, drop to my knees, and bump a referee who’s crouched by Ezra.

I hear myself say, "I'm Miller!"

I feel thousands of eyes on me, but all I see is Ezra with his pale face and his clenched teeth. His eyes are glassy, and I realize his teeth are chattering. He’s shaking all over.Fuck.

I reach for his arm. "Hey there, angel."

As soon as his gaze finds my face, tears start spilling down his cheeks. He reaches for me, but I’m grabbed from behind. “Sir, you can’t be here!”

I look over my shoulder—it’s one of the refs. I feel panicked as I try to break free of his grip. "I'm his next of kin!”

“Stay back, or I’ll have you hauled off,” the man snaps as he lets me go, and when I turn back to Ez, he’s being moved onto the stretcher.

I get my first look down the length of him, and I'm gut-punched to see what has to be a broken leg or ankle.Jesus.

“Mills?” Ezra reaches for me as the EMTs strap him down. Suddenly, everybody’s talking. The ref is telling me again I have to get off the field.

Someone with a booming voice says, "We're gonna move him, everybody back up!"

"It's okay," I call to Ez. I try to step closer, but that fucking ref grabs me again. “What the fuck?” I jerk my arms out of his grasp. “I’m not doing anything, dude.”

He lets me go again, and the stretcher is unfolding; the thing has legs with wheels that pop out. Ezra’s arm is reaching towardme, but there are lots of people between us, so I can’t see his face.

Everything is chaos as the swarm around him starts to move toward the sideline.

"You can't be near an injured player," the ref tells me gruffly. I want to fucking throttle him, but I know that won't help me. "That’s fine. But I'm going with him in the ambulance because I'm his only family here."

I start following the Ezra swarm, thinking I’ll get close to him once there’s distance in between that ref and me. But I hear, “Miller!”

It’s a hoarse yell, and it makes my chest squeeze. I jog closer. “Hey, can I get near him? I’m his family,” I say to someone in a crimson Polo.

The guy frowns at me, and Ezra moans my name again, and then the crowd is cheering, everybody on their feet, just fucking roaring in a way that’s almost scary. Ezra sticks his arm up, giving a wave, and the crowd roars louder.

Then we’re on the sideline and his teammates are all shouting to him. I realize he’s strapped onto the stretcher; I can tell he’s scared because his hands are clawing at the straps.

Finally, there’s space beside him as the swarm disperses, coaches and refs returning to position as we’re left with mostly EMTs and game staff. Tears fill my eyes as I plant myself right by his head.

“Hey there, my angel.” He looks pale and heavy-lidded as his eyes find mine, and then—just like before—tears start sliding down his cheeks.

“Oh, angel. I’m so sorry.” I lean down, fighting the urge to kiss him, he grabs onto me. “Please,Mills! Don’t let them take me!”

Oh, fuck.

“I can’t go there!” he moans.

“Yeah you can, Ezzie. You can go to the hospital. BecauseI'm going with you."

His teeth are chattering again. He’s breathing fast. He whimpers, "I don't want to."

“I know. I’m so fucking sorry.” Tears are streaming down his face as he blinks up at me. I realize his hair's sweat-pasted to his forehead. Someone must have pulled his helmet off before I got here. I’m reaching for his forehead when a woman shouts, “We’re on the move!”

I put my hand on his arm as they start pushing his stretcher. Its wheels bump over the grass, and he’s gritting his teeth, looking like he might pass out from pain.

“You’re doing so good, angel. Keep hanging in there.”

Ezra’s losing his shit, but he's being quiet about it. I can see the skin around his collarbone tug inward like he's struggling to breathe.He looks down at himself with eyes peeled wide, and I notice there’s a sheet over his legs.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, leaning down. “I’m with you.”

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