Page 96 of Well Played

One of the coaches stood and thumbed toward the parking lot. “You want me to grab the wheelchair? I keep one in the back of the van, just in case.”

I scooped Alex from the grass, careful not to touch his ankle. “No need. I got it.”

My truck had more legroom than Presley’s little car, so we drove to the emergency room in it and left hers at the field. She bit her nail as we got on the highway.

“I forgot how nerve-wracking having someone you love play football could be.”

“He’s going to be fine.”

She blew out a deep breath and nodded.

Once we arrived at the hospital, they took Alex into triage with Presley, and I paced in the waiting room. She came out five minutes later.

“They aren’t too busy, so they took him right in the back to have him examined,” she said. “Only one person is allowed in at a time, so I wanted to let you know. I’ll come out when I know something.”

I nodded and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Good luck.”

An hour or so later, I was fiddling with my phone, trying to keep myself occupied, when I heard a familiar voice.

“I’m looking for Alex Miller.”

“And you are?”

“His father.”

“He’s in the back with his mother. Give me a minute, and I’ll go see if I can get you an update. There’s only one person allowed with each patient.”

“Okay, thank you.”

My brother walked to the waiting area where I was seated. He stopped short when he saw me. His forehead wrinkled. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing by the school on my way home from the eye doctor and saw the boys practicing, so I stopped to check it out.”

“You were there when it happened?”

“Yeah. It sounded like it could be a break.”

My brother ran a hand through his hair. “Shit.”

“How did you know he was here?”

“Presley called me.”

“Oh.”

I must’ve frowned, because my brother’s eyes roamed my face, and he squinted. “Is that a problem? Should I not be here when my kid is hurt?”

I shook my head. “No…I just meant, I wasn’t even thinking. I should have called you. That’s all.”

My brother nodded, but I wasn’t sure he bought the line of crap I was feeding him.

A few minutes later, a nurse opened the door that led back to the exam area. She yelled, “Miller?”

Without thinking I stood, as did my brother. He looked at me funny.

“Oh, sorry. I’m sure they meant you.”

I sat down as the nurse walked over. “You’re Alex’s father?”

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