Page 56 of Shutout
“Thomas, get this woman out of here,” a man barks.
“No, I—I—” But I can’t get an argument out. Not when I take in the bleeding gash on Brooke’s cheek, or the blood smear on his neck and on his jersey.
“Coach, she’s family,” Brooke says.
Barky man glares at him. “She looks a bit too young to be your mother, Tatum.”
Brooklyn shakes his head, which sends crimson drops through the air. “She’s the only real family I have.”
“Can you at least wait outside while I stitch him up?” an older man asks me, not unkindly but impatient. And that’s when I realize he’s wearing surgical gloves and has a needle and thread in his hands.
With a weak voice, I say, “Shouldn’t that be done in the hospital? Um, in a cleaner environment?”
“It’s okay, Liv. He’s the team doctor.”
The man I assume is Thomas motions for me to step out. “It’ll only take a moment.”
Nodding, I retreat until the door shuts back in my face.
The first sniffle comes out. And then it’s a full on torrential rain on my face.
“Liv?” Mina asks from behind me, and her hand starts rubbing circles on my back. “Is it really bad? Should we call nine-one-one?”
“No.” I’m not a sobber, but I’ve always been a sniffer. I rubmy forearms against my nose, smearing the sleeves of my coat with tears and who knows what else. “He’s okay. They’re taking good care of him. But his face… his pretty face…”
Mina’s expression is set in a grimace. “Well, scars are attractive too.”
I shake my head. One day she’ll make a great WAG. Unlike me. I can’t fathom becoming a member of the wives-and-girlfriends club when it means making light of injuries. Who wants to see their loved ones getting hurt? Not this girl.
The door opens and the two coaches walk out. The nice one says, “He’s waiting for you now.”
“But don’t you ever barge into this area again, little miss,” the head coach says, pointing at my face. “I’ll get you banned, even if my best player claims you’re family. You hear me?”
“Yes, sir.”
He seems to like that, because all he does is glare for a second longer before walking over to the tunnel.
“I’ll wait for fifteen minutes,” Mina tells me. “And if you’re not out by then, I’ll assume you’re doing naughty things and leave.”
“I’m not going to—fine. Whatever.” I push the door again and at the last second, I retreat and grab her in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
She pats my back. “Now go get your man.”
“Ugh.”
When I finally walk into the locker, the doctor is almost done packing up as he speaks. “—Ibuprofen if it hurts too bad and try not to get water on it until I see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yes, sir.” Brooke speaks through a mostly closed mouth as his eyes find me. He’s no longer wearing the bloody jersey. “Hey, you okay? You look like you’re gonna faint.”
I shake my head hard. “You’re asking if I’m okay? I’m not the one who lost half his blood!”
“You sure? Because you’re looking mighty pale there.”
“Besides,” the doctor says as he zips up his bag. “If he’d lost half his blood, he’d definitely be dead.”
“Not helping,” I mumble.
“Also…” The older man motions at Brooke and at me several times. “Don’t you do things that could rip out his stitches.”
