Page 79 of Score to Settle
“Is there anything I can do?”
Leave, I think, barely managing to keep the word in.
She squeezes my hand again. “Jake, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say.” My voice is gravelly. My mouth is dry, but I’m not about to ask Harper to get me ice chips.
“I’m sorry for what happened yesterday,” she blurts out. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Scott and I’m sorry for the notes I made before I got to know you. I’m sorry I ever thought this article would be payback for a stupid thing back in high school that wasn’t even your fault. I brought my notebook. Let me?—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“But if you’d listen?—”
“I’m all good.”
A tense silence fills the room. I hate the feeling of Harper’s hand in mine. I don’t want her apologies or her pity.
“You should go,” I say.
“I want to stay.”
“The assignment’s finished. You’ve got what you need from me. There’s nothing left for us to say so just go, Harper. Go back to your life and I’ll go back to mine.” My chest feels like it’s cracking open, but I lean into it, relishing the hurt.
“Please don’t push me away.” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. I can hear her pain. It makes me want to reach for her, bury my face in her hair. But I can’t move. Fear and frustration boil over into hot rage.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I push again. “You’re a distraction, Harper. I never should have let things go this far between us.” I force myself to look at her. I’m many things, but I’m no coward. If I’m going to inflict pain on someone, I’m going to face it head on.
Hurt flashes in her eyes but she doesn’t let go of my hand. “You don’t mean that. I know you’re scared right now, but pushing me away won’t help.”
“Won’t it?” I growl. “Ever since you waltzed into my life, I haven’t been able to think straight. I was off my game tonight because I couldn’t stop thinking about our fight, and look what happened.”
“That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “You can’t put this on me.”
“My head hasn’t been right since the moment I met you. You’ve fucked everything up, Harper. My focus, my career. I might never play again because I let myself get distracted by you!” Then I drive the final nail into the coffin of our relationship. “We were nothing. Just some fun. This…” I grit out through the lump in my throat, “It was a challenge to see if I could get you into bed and I did, so you might as well go.”
“You don’t mean that,” she says, finally dropping my hand, backing away.
“The hell I don’t.”
Tears streak down her face but she steps to the door without a word. A sudden panic seizes my chest. I want to beg her to stay, but my anger wins out. A red mist covering my thoughts. I lost the game. I was distracted. I don’t know what’s going to happen with my injury. These thoughts spin on an endless loop. There’s no room for Harper’s feelings, for her at all in my mind right now.
When she’s gone, I lie in the silence for a long time, waiting for a relief that doesn’t come. Mama returns with the doc and it’s only when I catch the smiles on their faces that something eases in me, a knot loosening.
“Good news, Mr. Sullivan. The tackle caused a pinched nerve. It can be excruciatingly painful, but not serious. I’m going to send the team physical therapist in to manipulate your neck, and with some rest and some meds, you’ll be fine.”
“Can I play in next week’s game?”
“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to. If the nerve moves back into place and I expect it will, you should be back to normal in no time.”
I close my eyes, relief sweeping through me, ice-cold wind to the red mist of anger.
“Let’s get the neck brace off you now we know there’s no spinal damage.” The doc frees me from the brace and I reach a hand slowly to my neck. A sharp pain shoots down my left shoulder, bad enough to twist my gut, but at least I’m moving.
An hour later, the physical therapist has worked his magic and I’m sitting up in the bed, waiting for Mama to finish talking to the team docs and drive me home. When the door opens, my heart lurches with hope that takes my breath away. It crashes down at the sight of Dylan in the doorway. I sigh and close my eyes. A lecture from my big brother is the last thing I need.
“I come in peace,” he says.
I tentatively open one eye and he huffs a laugh.
