Page 203 of The Surprise Play
My phone buzzes, and I enter into a lengthy text conversation with Sienna, and then I have one with Nylah, who’s worried as well.
Nylah: Carson won’t stop pacing. He’s so stressed!
I try to send reassuring messages while my insides are in utter chaos.
Poor Wily.
I check his face again. His eyes are still closed, and I wonder if he’s sleeping. That’s good. He needs a reprieve from this nightmare.
I’m so gutted for him and worried that I won’t know how to help him through this. I’m desperate to make it all better. Desperate for this setback not to kill his soul.
His dream has just been squashed.
But hopefully not shattered.
I have to remind him that this isn’t over. It’s just delayed.
From the stuff I’ve googled, this doesn’t need to end his career. He may not get drafted this year… or he may just get drafted lower down on the list. I think that’s how drafting works.
Whatever. He might still get picked up by a pro team.
And if he doesn’t, I’m sure there are still other options.
He can come back from this injury. If anyone’s strong enough, it’s my coyote.
Although… I seriously have to make sure that he knows heissomething without football. He’s everything. He’s so incredibly amazing, and football is lucky to havehim, not the other way around.
A bustling and a rush of voices behind the curtain have me glancing up from my phone.
Two worried-looking people walk in, and I immediately know who they are.
Wily’s parents.
I haven’t met them yet, but it’s so obvious. He looks just like his father but has his mother’s coloring.
She’s a blue-eyed blonde, stunningly beautiful and slender. His father is shorter than Wily but just as imposing, a broad man with a square face and strong jaw.
He doesn’t even notice me as I move away from the side of the bed, my skin starting to itch as I fight the urge to step behind the curtain so they can’t see me.
“Wily.” His mom’s voice trembles as she approaches the bed. “My darling boy.” Her fingers skim over his leg, stopping just above the knee. “This is terrible.”
Wily’s eyes are open now, and he’s gazing at his parents. He suddenly looks small and incredibly vulnerable. I see flashes of a little boy on the verge of being told off, and confusion tightens my stomach.
“Well, this is…” His dad shakes his head, his expression buckling. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Dad…” Wily tries to talk, but his voice quakes and disappears.
“Why aren’t you in surgery yet?” Mr. Wilson barks.
“David,” Wily’s mom softly warns. “Coach already gave us the update. You know why.”
He runs a hand through his hair, so obviously stressed. “Maybe we should be transferring him to a different hospital.”
My chest hitches. No! I need him to stay here so I can be close by. They can’t just take off with him!
It’s not about you. It’s about what’s best for Wily!
I swallow my protests as Mr. Wilson’s phone starts ringing. He snatches it out of his pocket and checks the screen.
