Page 128 of Full Tilt
This isn’t right.
Since we’ve been together, I’ve only ever dreamed about Jenna smiling. I’ve seen and heard enough of her tears to last me a lifetime.
“Tommy!”
The wail penetrates my subconscious once more. I can feel myself reaching out for her. At least, I’m trying to, but it doesn’tfeel like I’m inside my own body. The pain reminds me that I am, but the rest of reality feels so fucking far away.
So fucking dark.
“Callaghan, I need you to move away. Now!” Another voice, more official, hauls me back into the room.
“I’ll step back when I know that a fellow player is going to be okay! What the fuck have you done, Curtis? What the fuck have you done?!”
“Tommy.” A male voice I fully recognize speaks softly to me. “Tommy, it’s Sawyer. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I want you to know that you’re going to be okay. You took a hit, and we can’t move you, so we’re waiting on the medics right now.”
A warm, rough palm presses against my own, tempering some of the pain.
I try to nod my head, desperate to let him know that I can hear him, even if I can’t form the words. But the second I try to move my neck, pain like I’ve never felt before in my life ricochets throughout my entire body.
“No. Don’t try and move, Tommy. Just …” Sawyer trails off, and I feel the hand as it squeezes mine tighter. “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, CAN WE GET THE MOTHERFUCKING MEDICS HERE ALREADY?!” I hear Sawyer bellow. Panic lancing through his shaking voice.
Sawyer is the king of cool, the guy everyone wants around them in a bind. He doesn’t break; he doesn’t waver. He’s the dad we all hope to have in our lives, in any way possible. So, when I hear the pure terror in his words, I know that whatever just happened isn’t good.
I know that it’s entirely possible that my career—maybe even my life—will never be the same again.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
JENNA
People race around this place, looking all busy and important, yet no one seems to be able to give me any answers.
Is my boyfriend going to be okay?
That’s all I want to know—seven words that form one of the easiest questions I’ve ever asked. But with the way nurses and doctors are dodging me right now, you would think that I wanted to understand the meaning of life.
I just want to see and speak to Tommy.
My face flops into my hands once more as I lean forward on the uncomfortably hard plastic chair in this godforsaken waiting room.
“How long have we been here exactly?” I ask Holt.
“Maybe two hours,” he replies, pocketing his phone and standing just as Helen pushes through the door with two trays of coffees.
She begins handing them out—one each for Holt, Sawyer, Archer, and Jack. She then approaches me with the cappuccino I ordered but can barely think about drinking.
I take it from her and feel the warmth as it radiates through the takeout cup and into my palms.
“Try and at least drink something, Jenna.” Her voice is soothing and caring as she places a hand on my knee. “The doctor will update us when he has a clear picture of where Tommy is at.”
Her Midwestern accent is way more noticeable than Tommy’s. From what Tommy has told me, she has spent most of her life as an assistant stylist in a hairdresser just outside of Minneapolis.
She’s a caring person and a far cry from Alex, I can see that in her demeanor and the way she winds her gold cross pendant around her fingers. She told me earlier that when Tommy turned his back and left home shortly after he tracked down Alex, she turned to the church to help her deal with the rejection and pain.
I’m personally not religious—never have been. But I respect anything that helps people deal with the shit in their lives. We all need to find our strength from somewhere.
I blow out a long breath and take a small sip of coffee.
“I just don’t understand how a CT scan can take so long. They said Tommy was an emergency case when we got here.”
