Page 165 of Red Zone
His eyes are closed, his chest rising shallow under his pads. His mouthguard’s still in, his arms slack at his sides.
“You hear me? Open your eyes, man. Come on! Wake up. You’re good. You’re fine. Just…open your damn eyes, all right?”
I can’t even hear the trainers yet, but I know they’re coming.
I press my hand to his chest, feeling it rise and fall. My throat’s tight, my stomach turning inside out.
“You’re okay,” I tell him anyway, even though I have no idea if it’s true. My voice breaks halfway through, but I don’t care. “You’re okay, you hear me? You’re okay. You just…you just gotta wake up, bro. Please.”
I hear cleats pounding the turf behind me, shouting voices—trainers calling for stretchers and medics.
But all I can do is keep my hand on his chest and my other on his helmet, leaning close so he can hear me if he comes to.
The trainers finally skid to a stop at my back, shouting orders and dropping their bags, and I’m quickly moved to the side, but I keep my eyes on my friend, still not moving on the ground.
“You’re okay,” I whisper, more to myself now than to him. “You’re gonna be okay.”
42
LYLA
The knock at the door is sharp, impatient.
I glance at Madison, curled up on the couch under a blanket, her eyes open but unfocused, staring at the muted TV screen. She doesn’t move.
Another knock, louder this time.
I pull in a breath, already feeling the tension before I even stand.
“I’ll get it,” I murmur, and she doesn’t respond.
When I peek through the peephole, it’s exactly who I expected. Carter.
I open the door just enough to slip through and close it behind me, stepping into the cool night air.
“Hey,” I say flatly, folding my arms.
He’s standing there in a hoodie and joggers, his hat pulled low, jaw tight. His blue eyes flick to the door behind me, then back to me.
“Where is she?” he asks, his voice already edged with frustration.
“She’s inside,” I answer, equally steady.
When he moves like he’s going to push past me, I plant my hand on his chest, stopping him.
“She doesn’t want to see anyone right now,” I add firmly.
Carter glares down at me, incredulous. “Are you kidding me, Lyla? Jaxon’s in a hospital bed right now, asking where she is. She left. She didn’t even—” He huffs out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “She didn’t even let him know she was there. What’s the point of her even showing up at all?”
“She was there,” I snap, narrowing my eyes at him. “She sat there for hours, Carter. You don’t know what that did to her—what it’s still doing to her. She’s scared, okay?”
“Scared,” he repeats, almost spitting the word like it offends him. He paces a step away, then turns back to me, his hands on his hips. “Yeah, well, Jaxon’s scared, too, and he doesn’t get to just check out. He doesn’t get to quit on her, does he? So why the hell is it okay for her to quit on him?”
“She’s not quitting,” I bite out, my voice rising. “She just needs time.”
“Time?” Carter’s laugh is sharp, cold. “He’s lying in a hospital bed wondering if she even gives a damn. And you—” His eyes cut to mine, piercing, like he’s peeling me apart.
My stomach flips because I know that look.
