Page 68 of A Play For The Heart
Finally, the players run out onto the field, and the crowd goes crazy. The three of us immediately jump to our feet, screaming at the top of our lungs. I spot Henry through the sea of players, running beside Jack. He turns his head towards us, scanning the crowd. The moment his eyes land on us, I can feel it. Giving us a small wave, he turns his head back towards the team.
I watch in rapt attention as Deon and another player saunter towards the center of the field for the coin toss. The referee announces the call, and the stadium goes silent for half a moment as the coin flips through the air. Landing on the ground, the choice goes to Seattle who choose to defer to the second half. Seattle kicks the ball and the crowd roars, the sound rumbling the ground.
The three of us have probably spent a total combined thirty seconds in our seats since the game began. The Mavericks are playing incredibly well, and Henry has been on fire. He scored early in the first quarter with a beautiful pass from Deon and since then, the momentum has been for the Mavericks. As much as it pains me to admit it, even Declan is playing well. It seems like the team has hit their stride, and being able to watch is incredible.
After an incredible stop by the defense, the ball is back to the offense. I shamelessly stare at Henry while he lines up on the line of scrimmage. I really need to convince him to wear those pants around the house, because his ass looks amazing. I continue to ogle him when the ball is snapped and he charges towards the defensive player in front of him, then takes a sharp right towards the sideline. Deon launches the ball in Henry's direction and two seconds later, the ball lands flawlessly in his hands. Henry begins running toward the end zone at light speed. Suddenly, a player on the other team tackles Henry from behind, hitting him so hard I can nearly hear the collision from here.
My stomach flips and the nachos I ate earlier attempt to make an appearance. I’ve watched Henry get tackled before. It makes me uneasy every time, but I’ve never felt like this. My gut tells me something is very wrong. My skin prickles as I stare at the field, my eyes zeroed in on Henry’s body laid out on the ground.
Maren sucks in a breath beside me as the hit replays on the big screen. My eyes never leave Henry. One second passes. Then two. The player on the other team gets up and shakes the hit off, but Henry stays on the ground. Jack and Deon sprint over to him. The noise in the stadium begins to quiet, but the roaring in my ears gets louder and louder.
“Get up,” I whisper.
I see Maren and Nathalie exchange a look in my peripheral vision, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Henry. Slowly, Maren grabs me and pulls me into her side, comforting me. In any other state, I would recognize the weight behind the gesture, but all I can feel is bone-deep terror. My hands begin to shake as I grab onto her shirt to ground myself.
“Get up,” I say, louder. As if saying it loud enough will make him hear me and do what I say.
I watch as Deon turns around, scanning the sideline, eyes frantic. He yells something, and medics run over with a stretcher and a first aid kit. It’s only been a minute since Henry got hit, but it feels like a lifetime. Jack stands over Henry, his face the most serious I’ve ever seen. Tears prickle my eyes as I watch the man I love lay on the ground, unmoving.
“Get up,” I murmur, one more time.
Henry
The moment I landed on the ground, I knew the hit was bad. We had both landed odd and the pain radiating from my foot was debilitating. Daggers being stabbed into my ankle with no reprieve in sight. I know better than to try to move, so I lay on the turf. My breathing is erratic, and the pain is all I can think about. I turn my head and see Jack and Deon running towards me, worry etched into their features. Deon kneels next to me, eyes frenziedly searching my body.
“My foot,” I tell him in between the shooting pains. My brain is fuzzy and adrenaline shoots through my veins, the only thing keeping me conscious as the pain begins to worsen.
Deon turns around and screams for the medics and athletic staff, who begin running from the sideline towards us. I peer up at Jack, who is just staring down at me, face pale.I must look worse than I feel.We make eye contact, and I can see the tears begin to well up in his eyes. Jack crying isn’t a good sign for me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes.
I open them a moment later to medics surrounding me, asking me a million questions. Did I hit my head? Where is the pain? Do I think I can stand? I answer all the questions as they move to get a cart to carry me off the field. Someone shines a light in my eyes as another tenderly touches my ankle. I hiss in pain and the trainers share a weighted look. The athletic trainer gives me the go-ahead and I sit up. The movement causes pain to race up my leg from my ankle, and my vision blackens. The stadium begins to clap when they see me sit up and for the first time, Sawyer pops into my mind. I can only imagine the terror coursing through her right now.
“Jack!” I yell, trying to get his attention through the sound of the crowd and the people surrounding me. He snaps out of whatever trance he’s in and pushes through the trainers towards me. He nearly topples over one of them, not sparing them a second glance. “I need you to get to Sawyer. Tell her I’m okay. Find her after the game, get her to the hospital.”
Solemn, he nods, then he books it towards the sideline where the girls are sitting in the stands. Knowing Jack will take care of Sawyer eases a weight in my chest and I focus on the trainers and Deon, who hasn’t left my side. Gingerly, they lift me, avoiding putting weight on my left leg, and help me wobble to the training cart that will carry me out. I force a wave in Sawyer's direction, hoping she will understand it for what it is. A signal that I’m okay.
Gently, they place me on the cart, trainers on either side of me. At a snail's pace, they drive off the field while the crowd cheers and claps. The only thing I do the entire time on the way to the hospital is hope. Hope that I’m not as injured as I think I am. Hope that Sawyer isn’t too freaked out. Hope that everything will be okay.
CHAPTER 28
“You left a hole in my chest when you left and my heart followed you out the door, And I stood and bled in the hall, watched it all, and the mess that it left on the floor”
I Burned LA Down—Noah Cyrus
Henry
Thecoachingstaffsurroundsme as the doctor walks back into the room. Monitors beep and sneakers squeak against the shiny, tile floor. An incessant buzzing sound fills my ears as I fiddle with the wires connected to my body. Hours after the game ended and several tests later, the doctors seem to have a diagnosis. Every muscle in my body tenses up, preparing for the worst.
“I’m going to get straight to the point,” the doctor starts. “You’ve torn your Achilles tendon.”
The blood rushes from my face and I can feel myself beginning to get dizzy. Thank God I’m sitting down because I definitely would have fallen if he gave me that news standing up. A torn Achilles is way worse than I was expecting. I had thought I broke a bone in my ankle at worst and had a bad sprain at best. The buzz transforms into a roar in my ears and it becomes hard to focus on anything else going on. The room begins to spin and close in on me. Voices fade away.
Shock.
That’s what this is. I’m in shock.
“What’s the prognosis?” I distantly hear Coach Barrett ask. It sounds like he’s underwater. Muffled to my ears.
“After surgery and regimented physical therapy, I would say six to nine months to get back to full strength.”
