Page 26 of Subtracting the Heart

“Oh, it’s not for me, Cajun. My little brother, Jamie, is a big fan. He’s one of the gay ones. You’re a huge role model for the kid.”

Jax smiled. “Give me your information, and I’ll send the kid… How old is he?”

“Twenty. He plays cornerback for the Fighting Irish.” The pride in her voice was nice to hear.

“Hell, have him sendmeone of his jerseys. They’re in the Rose Bowl this year. Is he Jimmy Cooper?” Jax asked. Her beaming smile was enough confirmation.

“He played for…” Jax recited the kid’s stats for his early football career. He kept an eye on talent, and the kid had been an all-American his senior year in high school. It made sense Jimmy Cooper had come from a big Catholic family and went to play for the Irish. Jax hoped the kid’s teammates were as supportive as the Breeze players had been for him.

After he and the nurse traded information, the ortho and a tech came back and fitted him with the brace. They surrounded it with an Aircast to be worn for the weekend, which would be a pain in the ass, but he did appreciate the extra cushioning around the leg. He was dreading when the earlier pain pill wore off because he knew it was going to hurt like a mother fucker.

Jax wasn’t good with crutches, having not used them since he sprained his ankle once in high school. By the time they got home, he was in a lot of pain. The pressure on his leg was killing him.

When Ford pulled up to the garage and opened the door so Jax wouldn’t have to take the front stairs, they both noticed the white BMW wasn’t in its spot, but the gifts Jax had arranged for were there, untouched.

“What time is it?” Jax asked.

Ford opened the back door of the Hummer so he could slide out. Dr. Howell had offered to send him home in an ambulance, but the big man refused because he didn’t want to upset the boys any more than they likely were, already having witnessed the hit in person.

The doctor said he’d stop by the next morning before church with his family, and Jax thanked him. He was sure he’d be begging for those fucking pain pills by morning.

“It’s seven o’clock. I’m sure Cade had to run out for food. Let’s get you inside, love,” Ford said.

After Jax was stable on the crutches, he hobbled to the back three steps from the garage to the mudroom, keeping his knee bent so his toes didn’t touch the ground. “These fucking crutches hurt like a mother fucker.”

“You want me to arrange for a wheelchair? That might work better.”

Jax hopped on one leg up the stairs, using the crutches as support. “No fucking way.”

Once they were inside the mudroom, Ford took the blanket from Jax’s shoulders—they’d forgotten his coat at the stadium—and removed his own shoes and coat, noticing his insulated, down-filled coat was missing from the hook, along with his car keys.

They went in through the back door to the kitchen and saw a table full of worried faces. “Hey, it ain’t that bad. A break and a fracture. I won’t play next weekend, but that means I don’t have to go to Minnesota, thank god. What’s up?” He hobbled over to the table.

Josh, or maybe Greg, hopped up and offered him the seat. Another one—the redhead—stood and moved the other chair closer to prop his leg on. Ashton Hayes took the crutches and leaned them against the wall out of the way. They were all still looking at Jax and Ford.

“Where’s Cade?” Jax asked.

“We don’t know. He said he had to run out for a minute, and we should put the food in the oven for an hour, and he’d be back. That was nearly three hours ago,” Kevin the Ant said.

“Did you eat?”

Ashton opened the oven, showing two dried out lasagnas.

“We tried to keep it warm at least until he got back. I called his cell, and he didn’t answer. We finally turned off the oven, and we didn’t know what to do,” the young boy said, breaking down.

“Oh, Ash, come here, guy.” Ford held his arms open for the younger boy. Jax watched Ford hug him, which was the best feeling in the world as he well remembered.

“Look, he’s in my car and it has front-wheel drive, but it’s snowed a bit. He might be stuck somewhere with a dead cell.” Ford continued to pat Ashton on the back.

Ash pulled away and dried his eyes. “No. If it’s dead, it goes straight to voicemail. Cade’s phone rang. Something’s wrong.”

Ford pulled out his phone to call Cade when he noticed a missed call. It was from Cade’s cell phone at five that evening. There was no message. “Nothing,”

“Wait, you have that security package on your car. Find it on the internet.” When Jax bought the car for Ford for his twenty-ninth birthday earlier that year, he pulled out all the stops. Ford didn’t tell him he wanted things often, but when he did, Jax did it up as big as he could. That damn car had been one of those things.

Ford ran upstairs and returned a few minutes later with his laptop. The house was wired for Wi-Fi, so it wasn’t a problem to get a connection in the kitchen. Jax watched him typing away furiously before he hit the enter key. “Hmm. Okay, I have an address.” Seven sets of eyes studied him.

Ford typed in the address, his face hardening as he pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hello, this is Branford Thomas. I understand you have my car in the impound yard. Why?”

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