Page 9 of The Quarterback
Wes laid his hand on Justin’s thigh. Justin slid his fingers through Wes’s, and for a moment, they were lost in each other’s eyes—like they were all the time, butthistime, it slammed into Colton’s heart, a sudden, overwhelming surge of loneliness scraping his insides raw and leaving him empty. Like he’d torn his heart and his lungs and his guts out through his stomach and hurled them on the floor.
He wanted to be petulant, wanted to grab Justin’s coffee and fling it across the room, wanted to force their attention back to him. Wanted to not be invisible, not when his world had collapsed and his future was drip-drip-dripping away with every slow infusion from his IV and he was watching his fingers refuse to wiggle even a little bit as his shoulder throbbed.
He bunched the sheet in his left fist and clenched his jaw hard enough to crack the joint. It sounded like a branch breaking in the silent room.
Wes and Justin turned back to him.
“The surgery could be anywhere from a half hour to three or four hours, depending on what they do.” Justin shrugged, one shoulder rising and falling. “I know one of the nurses for the team, and he said he’d give us a call when you’re coming out. It will take a few hours after that for your sedation to wear off.”
“Want us to bring you anything after? I can pick you up food. Or whatever you want. Just say the word,” Wes said, trying to cheer him up.
But what he wanted he couldn’t have. He wanted to put on his pads and run onto the field. He wanted to suit up for practice in a few hours. He wanted to palm a football and toss it over his head, watch it spiral and soar back into his hold. He wanted to not be scared and alone and feeling like the world was caving in on him. Like the future he’d dreamed of was vanishing and he couldn’t grab hold as it slipped away.
Colton shook his head. “No, I’m okay.”
Justin was going to say something, and he reached for Colton, laid his hand on Colton’s knee, but the doctor and nurses walked in, and then it was a whirlwind of information and questions and no answers for Colton at all. Justin and Wes were asked to leave, and then the anesthesiologist came in, and Colton’s world went foggy again until everything tilted sideways and he tipped over into the darkness.
Chapter Four
He woke slowly,the world coming back like paint being dropped on a canvas. White walls, the blue hospital blanket covering him. An orange couch against the wall.
A man sitting in the chair beside his bed, reading a magazine. The man’s face wouldn’t come into focus, and Colton groaned as he tried to reach toward him, needing to touch him to know he was really there and not a figment of his imagination. The man took Colton’s hand and placed it back on the bed but kept his own palm on top of Colton’s.
“Hey.” The voice came in waves, like a speaker warbling before snapping into place. “How are you feeling?”
Not Wes. The voice was deep, but it wasn’t Wes’s rumbling twang. This was more suburban, polished. He blinked, and slowly, Nick’s face appeared. “What are you doing here?” he blurted out.
“Surgery took a little longer than everyone thought. Wes is at practice and Justin has his hospital shift, but they didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up. I told them I’d come stay with you.”
“You said you were going out of town…” That was yesterday, right? Nick had said he was leaving in the morning. They were supposed to get beers together the night before. Was it only yesterday?
“I canceled my trip. I did what I needed to over the phone.” He squeezed Colton’s hand and let go, scooting his chair closer to the bed. He was right up next to Colton, suddenly.
Colton swallowed. “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice was still slow, the words an effort to push out of his mouth. He felt the shape of them before they left, like he was rolling each one around on his tongue.
“I didn’t want you to be alone. Justin said something about your mom not being able to make it?”
Maybe it was the sedatives. He wasn’t quick enough to cover the twist in his face, the flinch he felt rise up inside him. It wasn’t like his mom came up to see him a whole lot—or ever—so her not coming now wasn’t some kind of aberration. He should be used to this. She loved her job and loved being single, and, Colton suspected, sheespeciallyloved not needing to support a kid anymore. She was in charge of her own life again, and he couldn’t really fault her for that. Colton hadn’t been in her life plans twenty-two years ago, but she’d done a decent job with a kid she didn’t really want at first.
And his mom loved him. Of course she did.
But he never felt the all-consuming, unconditional love that he saw other parents bestow upon their kids. Nick treated Justin like he was the sun in Nick’s sky. Colton knew that hadn’t always been the case, but it was truenow, and he saw the effect it had on Justin. Wes’s dad, too, had showed up to the national championship game, and they’d had their big father-son moment captured by ESPN: Graham Van de Hoek gripping a crying Wes as he told Wes how damnproudhe was of him.
The other players had their families—moms and dads and siblings—at the big after-party in the hotel. Colton had made the circuit of the room, meeting everyone, shaking hands, smiling wide and laughing as loud as he could to try to cover up that he, out of everyone there, had been alone. Instead of being there, his mom texted him after the game,CongratulationsandSo proud of youand a picture of her on her couch with a glass of wine and piles of work in front of her.Huge case starting tomorrow,she’d texted.Hopefully I do as well as you!
Whatever it was that passed over his face, Nick saw it, and his forehead creased as a mixture of sadness and surprise filled his eyes. Colton turned away, stretching as much as he could to try to shake off the fuzziness from the sedation. “What did they say?” he grunted. “Surgery went long? Is that good or bad?”
“The doctor hasn’t come in yet. I think he was giving you a few hours to wake up first.” Nick’s hand appeared on top of his again. “I know he couldn’t fix everything he needed to arthroscopically.”
Colton stared at the ceiling, looking straight into the fluorescent lights.What is my recovery plan? How soon will I be playing again?Why wouldn’t anyone tell him?
They sat in silence until the door opened and the team doc walked in, still in his scrubs. He gave Colton a tight smile as he stopped at his bedside. “Well, Colton, how are you feeling after surgery?”
“What’s my recovery plan?” His voice was hard.
“We’ll get to that.” The doc rested his hand on Colton’s knee and squeezed briefly, then turned his gaze to Nick. “Are you Colton’s dad?”
“No. I’m a friend.” Nick sat back and crossed his legs.
