Page 92 of Cross Check Hearts

The EMT fills them in, but I don’t have enough energy or coordination to add anything before the nurses wheel me into the hospital. Everything happens so quickly that I lose track of where I’m at or who’s talking to me as they get me into a room and hooked up to an IV. I barely even feel the needle piercing my skin.

They run a battery of tests and imaging that I’m too out of it to keep track of to make sure I’m not bleeding internally or anything like that, then mercifully leave me alone in a hospital bed for what feels like hours.

I sleep off and on, periodically coming to only to go right back out again.

At some point, a doctor enters the room and gently stirs me awake.

“Mr. Murray?” she asks quietly as I try to force my eyes to focus on her. “Can you hear me?”

I nod, which hurts, but not as badly as before. “Yes, I hear you.”

My voice comes out raspy, like I’ve been gargling gravel, but the doctor nods approvingly.

“Good. I have good news. All the tests came back negative for any major injuries or internal damage. As far as we can tell, you’ve got signs of a mild concussion, but it’s not too bad. You’ll need to rest up and take it easy so we’re probably going to keep you overnight just so we can keep an eye on you, but I expect you’ll be fine.”

I breathe a shuddery sigh of relief, and for the first time since the incident, the reality of how much worse it could’ve been hits me. If that reckless bastard had checked me in a different spot or used a little bit more force when he did, he could’ve paralyzed me—or worse.

I hope he’s at least getting a suspension for this shit.

The doctor says something else to me about moving me to another room, and I nod again, but I’m barely listening. She pats my shoulder gently and then leaves, and a couple of hospital staff come in to wheel me out of the room.

They roll my bed down the hall, and as we round the corner into the new room where I’ll be spending the night, it doesn’t do my aching head any favors to see Coach Dunaway already there waiting for me.

Tension crackles between us as we lock eyes. I can take a guess at what he’s thinking after what he saw happen between me and Hannah, but he doesn’t let any of it slip. He’s wearing a perfect poker face as he steps over to my bedside.

“The doctor said it’s just a mild concussion. You’re lucky,” he says, all business.

I nod, swallowing. “Yeah. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I’m glad for both our sakes it wasn’t,” Dunaway says, his steely eyes still boring into mine. An uncomfortable, charged silence falls between us for several moments, until he finally blows out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

I hesitate, unsure what or how much to say. The last thing I want to do is cause any trouble for Hannah, although I’m sure she’s already gotten an earful from him too after he saw us holding hands. Then again, the secret is already out, so there’s not much point in shying away from it now.

But it’s not my call to make. It’s Hannah’s.

She asked me to keep this between us, and while we both failed at that, I want her to be in the driver’s seat for any conversations with Dunaway about what’s going on between us.

Wincing, I push myself up into a sitting position in the bed to be more at eye level with him, ignoring the protests of my body.

“With all due respect, sir, I think that’s up to Hannah.”

Dunaway clenches his jaw so hard that I can see the muscles in his cheeks pop, running a hand over his smooth bald head in an irritated gesture I’ve seen him do during practice more than once. He’s obviously pissed, tension radiating from his body.

I’m sure he doesn’t like my answer at all, and that he probably thinks I owe him the truth after everything he’s done for me—and maybe I do owe him for that, but it’s still not going to come from my mouth. If Hannah wants to come clean to him, I won’t stop her, but I’m not going to make the choice for her.

She already has too many people in her life doing just that.

“You have a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?” Dunaway bites out, glaring at me. “I have half a mind to bench you for the rest of the season for this.”

I shake my head despite the pain. I’m losing energy fast, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep talking, but I’m not backing down until he accepts it. He can threaten me all he wants, but I’m not going to roll over on this.

“Look, your daughter has only ever said amazing things about you to me. I know she loves and respects you—but you’re not her keeper, and you’re not mine. So you can do whatever you want to me. You can make my life hell if that’s what will make you feel better, but none of that is going to change how I feel about her.”

Dunaway stands staring at me, fuming. He paces by my bedside a few times before he whirls on me, but I match his intensity with a glare of my own and raise my eyebrows at him expectantly, almost daring him to say whatever he feels like he needs to get off his chest. I’m incredibly grateful to this man for giving me my big break in the league, but I’m not going to let him weaponize that against me.

“This isnotwhat I wanted for my daughter,” he snaps, his eyes narrowed in anger.

My heart hammers in my chest because I know I’m about to risk throwing away the career I’ve worked so hard and so long for, but I can’t let this go. I can’t stay quiet. Even if it costs me my career trajectory by getting me benched for the rest of the season. I care about Hannah way too much to let any of that stop me.

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