Page 112 of Untouchable Player

It’s dark by the time we pull up outside the hospital and when I look at the time, I’m shocked to find it’s midnight already.

When we ask where Jesse is at the front desk, a nurse informs us that visiting hours are over.

Harrison jumps up with a couple of the guys from the team and hugs Mom.

“He’s fine, a lot better now than when he came in,” he says. He turns to the nurse and treats her to his biggest, most charming smile, “please miss, can my brother at least see him for a couple of minutes? He’s his boyfriend.”

The nurse takes a deep breath and gives Harrison that look women have been giving him since he was five. Like butter wouldn’t melt.

“Five minutes, but be warned,” she says to me, “I don’t think he’s fully stopped puking yet.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Harrison leads me down the corridor of the trauma unit and I don’t realise I’m shaking until he looks down at my hand, “he’s okay you know? Concussions are common in hockey.”

“I know.”

“And it’s not like he has any brains to damage in the first place…”

I’m about to call him out when I notice he’s smiling and this is his way of joking about it and making me feel better.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“With the nurse, tell her I’m his boyfriend?”

“Because you are, aren’t you?”

“But I thought you were angry.”

He sighs, “I was, and, I’m not ecstatic about it or anything, but, for as long as I’ve known Jesse, he does seem to be a good guy, and so, if you like him, then, whatever, I suppose I’ll just have to deal with it, or be a huge jerk as Mom says.”

I smile.

“Here he is, in there.”

We’ve stopped in front of a door and I’m suddenly scared to go in.

“It’s only puke,” Harrison says when he sees me hesitating, “if you’re gonna get married and shit, you’ll have to deal with more than that.”

“I don’t care if he’s puking, I…”

“He looks okay, as ugly as ever.”

I punch him in the arm.

“Go on,” Harrison slaps me on the back, “I’ll wait with Mom and Dad.”

I knock and open the door. Jesse’s sitting up in bed with his head propped up on some pillows. His skin is pale, and there’s one of those kidney-shaped things on the table next to him full of what looks like puke.

He frowns when he sees me and tries to sit up more, but it obviously hurts and he winces.

“Don’t move.” I rush around the bed and hold his hand to try and keep him still.

“Nate, am I hallucinating? They gave me these painkillers…”

“No, you’re not hallucinating.” I laugh.

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