Page 67 of Glitz & Goals

“I need to go.” I try to slip past Mom.

She catches my arm. “You’re leaving?”

“No, I…” I bite my lip and look down toward the ice, where Grady’s being transported to the onsite medical center.

Mom gasps. Her grip on my arm tightens. “Oh, my gosh. He’s the guy. Grady’s the guy. The one who you were on the phone with, right?”

There’s nothing I can say to that. Even my silence is incriminating. “Um…”

She loops her arm through mine. “In that case, we’re both going. You’ll need me.”

I almost trip over my own feet in my haste to get out of the row. “Why?”

“Because your father is down there,” Mom says. “And I’m far better in a crisis than he is.”

“Hm.” I bite my lip. “Good point.”

I know the arena, but my mom—despite her size—is way better at getting people to clear a path. She charges through the crowd, parting the masses before her like Moses parting the Red Sea. It’s borderline miraculous. Nobody gets in our way as she takes the staff-only corridors back through the warren of rooms and hallways. We’re moving so fast that I don’t have time to read the signs on the walls, but she still leads us to the right door.

The refs already called an immediate injury time-out, halting the game for an extended period—protocol when a coach is seriously injured—giving the affected team time to regroup before play commences. Noah, Sergio, and Violet are all gathered around a table in the middle of the room, surrounded by worried Venom players. Violet is one of the team trainers, with a specialty in head injuries. She’s bent over Grady, who is lying on his back with his eyes closed while she ices his head.

He’s still. So damn still.

My stomach clenches as my mind races out of control.

“Can one of you hold this?” Violet asks. “If I can get them open, I need to check his eyes. ”

Before either of the guys can volunteer, I shove my way into the fray. “I’ve got this,” I tell her. I all but snatch the ice pack from her hands and press it to Grady’s head while peppering his face with kisses.

Dad clears his throat. “Whoa, Viv, slow down. That’s not the way to bring someone back from an unconscious state!” Then he gives Mom a pointed look. “Why are you two even down here?”

Mom touches his arm and shakes her head, which only makes him more confused. I try to ignore them, focusing on Grady, who hasn’t responded to my presence. His eyes pop open and travel over my face, but the Grady I know isn’t there. His gaze is unfocused, distant, like he’s looking straight through me. A lump forms in my throat, and I press my hand gently against his cheek, willing him to come back to me.

But he doesn’t. Not yet.

“Viv?” Dad asks, his voice cutting through the fog of panic tightening in my chest.

Mom shakes her head. “Leave it, Noah.”

Leave it? Leave it? My heart is practically breaking apart in my chest, and they’re having this conversation?

“Wait.” He looks down at her, his brow furrowed like this is some casual misunderstanding. “Are you saying…? Are they…?”

I want to scream at him, tell him to shut up and focus because Grady—Grady—might be seriously hurt, and all this joking feels like nails on a chalkboard.

Viktor clears his throat. “Wow, Dad. The revelations just keep coming, don’t they? Yesterday, you realized that you injured Coach Metcalfe when he was in your crease. And today you’re realizing that the same guy is in Vivian’s—”

Dad points at him. “Complete that thought at your own peril.”

I squeeze Grady’s hand tighter, hoping the warmth of my skin will anchor him. His eyes flutter, but there’s still that haze,that terrifying emptiness. My stomach twists, and for a second, it feels like I might be sick right there on the floor.

Without missing a beat, Knight covers Viktor’s mouth as he meets my gaze. “I’m saving you from yourself.”

The words swirl around me like background noise. I should care—I usually care—but all I can think about is the way Grady’s breathing sounds too shallow, too uneven. I brush a damp curl from his forehead, my fingers trembling.

Dad scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable. My own daughter, sneaking around with my boss. My own son, covering for her. My own wife—” He whirls on Mom, eyes narrowed. “You knew about this?”

I flinch at his volume, and Grady’s eyelids flutter again. My heart lurches, hoping this is the moment he’ll snap out of it—but his gaze remains glassy, unfocused.

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