Page 119 of The Stud

“You alri-” isn’t even allowed to become a completed thought due to the blood on the windowsill and his sprawled out, slumped over nature on the very edge of his mattress. “Becksssss!” Flying over to drop beside him is followed by severe shaking. “Becks! Bloodyhell, mate, wake up!” I viciously tear the collar of his t-shirt to expose his neck. “Wakeup!” Two fingers firmly press against the territory where they frantically begin searching for a pulse. “Comeonbud!”

Nothing.

“ComeonBecks!”

Still nothing.

“Becks!”

Finally, feeling the faintest beat against my digits, I expel a small sigh of relief.

He’s alive.

But for how long?

Quickly dialing an emergency apple occurs between wetting the edge of the nearby sheet with whatever’s left in the vodka bottle – hoping it works to clean the wound – and applying pressure to the gash.

The very calm, very polite woman on the other end of the phone remains on the line, guiding my actions.

Instructing how to gently move his head to keep it aligned with his spine.

How to check if his airway is blocked.

What to listen for when it comes to changes in his breathing.

Despite every instinct in my body screaming from the bench to do more, I don’t.

I maintain my focus.

Keep my mitts moving where I’m coached and eyes scanning the situation for the tiniest shift in behavior to report to her or the paramedics when they arrive.

While time seems to stretch on like a period with too many zebras blowing whistles whenever they eventhinkthey saw an infraction, I simply shoulder onward.

Bench any thoughts about not completing my ritch.

Being late.

Missing warmies.

Possibly being scratched for the whole night.

No.

The only thing that matters is that Becks isalive.

That hestaysalive.

I mean I can’t just leave one of the boys behind.

Especially not to die.

Chapter 19

Tanner

Theupsideto being on IR?

You aren’trequiredto be at the games.

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