Page 38 of Quake

“Is she going to be okay?” I ask Dereck. My words sound jumbled together, but I’m not even a little concerned about how my rushing over here will look to others.

“She’ll be fine, Gianni. Just keep your head down and wipe that look off your face, or you’ll wind my daughter up in a tabloid,” he whispers so quietly I almost don’t hear him. He pushes the plunger on the syringe, and the liquid transfers into a small vial with a white powder. He detaches the needle, shaking the vial before reinserting the needle, and finishes pulling up the fluid from the small orange case before glancing up at me briefly.Jesus, that seemed like a process.“Hold her very still for me, please.”

I do as he says and watch as he meticulously administers the fluid-filled needle into her delicate, porcelain skin. His hand shakes with an almost imperceivable tremor, but it’s enough that I notice, and my heart plummets even further in my gut.

The medics stand by, waiting to see if they’re needed, and a moment passes by before her lashes are fluttering open, the big hazel orbs staring up at me. I see the very moment she recognizes whose arms she’s in because her cheeks turn pink instantaneously as she tries to move out of my lap, but I hold her to me.

“Just…” another deep breath in, “just wait another moment, okay? You just came to. Please just chill out for a second before you go flying out of here.”

She gives me a small nod and Tiny stands from his position at her side, watching his owner, ensuring she’s okay.

A hand snaps to her head, rubbing her temples as she groans, her eyes cinching shut. She drags in several shaky breaths, and for each one she takes, I swear, I mirror the action.

I reach over Lark, scratching the massive dog behind his speckled ears. “You’re a good boy, huh? Your mommy’s lucky to have you,” I tell him, my voice wavering and my chin trembling.

When I peer back down at her, those supple lips of hers are open the smallest bit, and I have to fight the urge to duck my head and take a taste.

Her dad clears his throat. “You ready to give this whole standing thing a go?”

She nods her head, reaching for his hand as he pulls her up out of my lap. She stands on shaky legs, and the medics move in, ready to take over.

Those around us cheer, and Lark takes a seat beside her dad, taking small sips of the sports drink he brought over for her.

As I make my way back to the field, I see Damien standing to the side, a smirk spreading his lips. Unease trickles into my stomach, but I brush the thought away, trying to focus on the game as the paramedics help Lark over to the ambulance, pulling away a few minutes later.

We finish the game, winning three to zero. I drag my exhausted body across the field, hoping to shower and head home to take Pickles out before Sunday dinner at my parents’ house, but as I enter the locker room, Damien is leaning against my locker.

“Move,” I tell him, shouldering past him to grab the duffle I left on the bench.

He leans into me, gripping my forearm tightly, and says, “It turns out your little boyfriendcanbe replaced, huh?” Alex wasnever myboyfriend,but that doesn’t matter. Because now he’s going after Lark too.

“I don’t feel like getting into it with you. Just get the fuck out of my way. Steer clear, and we won’t have any problems,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Hah, tell that to the fucking plastic surgeon who had to fix my pretty face back up after the job you did on it,” he growls like a fucking deranged animal.

I shouldn’t warrant that with a response, but I do anyway. “You should be glad that’s all I did. If anyone on this team knew the shit you spewed to get your face wrecked, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

Grabbing my things, I leave him there, not caring for whatever slow-ass reply he’s cooking up in that Neanderthal brain of his.

***

In all the years I’ve called these people my family, I’ve never once missed a Sunday dinner unless it was for an away game, but today, I’m just fucking exhausted.

I want to go home, hang out with Pickles, and see if I can somehow check in on Lark. From what I gathered, she has type 1 diabetes, so she probably had low blood sugar, but I’d like to knowwhy.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d like to know every damn thing about that woman.

Mom, I’m really sorry, but I’m exhausted. I just want to go home and sleep.

Almost immediately, as if she were waiting for this text, she replies.

Momma

Mi bambino, go rest. We’ll see you soon <3

Thank you. I love you.

Momma

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