Page 47 of Christmas in the Shadows

A cheer went up.

“However,” his face remained grim, “we’re going to need to keep him in a medically induced coma until his vitals level out. It’s looking better for him, but he still has a long road ahead.”

Lindsey sobbed some more—tears of both joy and grief—and leaned into Chelsea. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Can I have a minute alone with you?” he asked her.

“Of course.” Lindsey stood and followed him.

Chelsea couldn’t help but wonder what this talk was about. But, if she had to guess, it had something to do with whatever the test results showed. Something like steroids or otherperformance-enhancing drugs showing up in Mikey’s bloodwork—things that needed to be asked privately.

She and Tex exchanged a look. When Lindsey returned a moment later, she had a stoic look on her face.

Chelsea wanted to ask her questions. But she couldn’t. Not here.

Not with the other football players nearby.

She needed to find the right moment.

Ten minutes later, Lindsey’s parents arrived to sit with her. With her support system in place and no other updates coming, people slowly began to trickle away. Lindsey probably needed some privacy as she figured out how to navigate things. Since her parents were here, this felt like the right time to leave.

Chelsea stood. “I’m going to head home. I’d be happy to bring you dinner or anything at all that you need.”

“My parents will stay with me now, so I think I’m okay.” Lindsey attempted a smile, but her eyes were too glassy and her expression too listless. “But I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Chelsea gripped her hand and patted it. “I love you, Lindsey. And I’m so sorry. I’ll be praying for this situation.”

“Thank you.” Lindsey’s voice cracked as she said the words.

She and Tex slipped from the waiting room.

“Those boys know more than they’re letting on,” Tex whispered to Chelsea as they headed down the hallway.

“I agree. If they’re not careful, they’re all going to find themselves in a similar situation.”

They stepped back into the waiting area of the emergency room, the same place they’d entered the building.

As they did, Chelsea practically ran into Steve Strober, the athletic director, and one of Gilbert’s closest friends.

“Chelsea.” He paused, perhaps the most unathletic athletic director she’d ever met with his paunch and double chin. “How is Mikey?”

“He’s stable for now,” she told him. “But it’s going to be a rough road ahead.”

“Do they know what happened? I heard it was his heart.”

“That’s what I heard also.” She decided to take a gamble. “There are murmurings that maybe he took something, and that’s what caused this reaction.”

It was a bit of a stretch, but her words weren’t untrue either.

“Really?” He rubbed his chin. “You really think that’s the case?”

She shrugged “I thought you might know more than me.”

His eyes widened. “What are you implying?”

“You’re the AD. I just thought you might know more details about what was going on.”

His gaze darkened. “I don’t appreciate those implications.”

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