Page 41 of Tainted Rose

Scarlett

Once my aunt and uncle returned from dinner last night—and before Xander made his appearance in my bedroom—Uncle David mentioned that he’d have to have his guys look at my truck. He’d personally gone out to Teri & Terry’s after dropping me off at school this morning, thinking he’d need to get it towed to the garage. The idea that I’d be without my truck the whole time they were gone was slightly terrifying, but he’d called me before classes started to let me know he didn’t need to tow it after all. Apparently, the wires had somehow become disconnected from the battery. He’d done a whole lot of grumbling about that, considering it had just been looked over when he got it for me. He said he’d leave it at the garage to have his guys do a more in-depth look at it to make sure nothing else was wrong, and I would probably be able to pick it up this afternoon after school.

Really. Fucking. Weird.

Especially weird when I take into account the truck that had stalked me as I’d tried to get home on foot. I’m creeped out, but refuse to mention it as they get ready to go out of town today. They’d stay home from Aunt Liz’s conference, and she’s already done way too much of that to ensure I’m adjusting well here. If only she knew. And it’s totally my fault that she doesn’t, but I can’t bear to tell her when they were so excited this morning to go.

I’m on my way in from my run when I notice a pretty big commotion on the football field. I’m still so mad at Xander, I almost head straight for the locker room, ignoring him and all of his teammates and whatever is going on.

As I get closer, all of the players and all three coaches run toward the far end zone. The team huddles around in a circle, and I assume a player is down on the field. I jog up to the fence, prepared to do my stretches there. Worry starts to replace my anger as a few other runners stop alongside me to see what the commotion is all about.

Kari, our team captain, runs up, out of breath, and rasps, “What’s going on?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure.” I kick a leg up behind me, pulling my foot to stretch my quad, then switch and do the other leg.

Beau’s younger brother Griffin, a running back, takes off at a dead sprint for the gym. My heart pounds furiously behind my rib cage.

I glance at Kari before whispering, “I think someone got hurt pretty badly.” My throat goes dry as I watch what’s happening.

She nods, wide-eyed, and returns her gaze to the field.

No more than a minute later, Mr. Simmons, the athletic trainer, follows Griffin back across the field with a medical bag. The shriek of a siren in the distance splits the air.

Distracted by looking for the lights of an ambulance, I don’t notice Beau and Micah racing toward the group of us at the fence until they are already right on us. My hand drifts up, fingers touching my lips. I shake my head. “No.” I say the word so quietly, I don’t think anyone heard me. A lump forms in my throat.

Half out of breath, Micah confirms my worst fear when he says, “It’s Xander. He took a hard hit to the head and was unconscious for a minute.”

“Oh my God.” I blink, confused why they are over here if their friend is down on the field.

“He’s asking for you,” Beau gasps out.

I blink again. “He is?”

“He’s frantic and won’t stay still—and he really needs to. Would you come with us?”

Micah growls, “We know you two had some sort of argument last night. He’s been upset about whatever happened all day long. But he needs you now.”

Fear for Xander’s well-being slithers down my spine. I blow out a quick breath and nod. “Yes. Okay. Of course.” No matter how shitty he’s made me feel by keeping things from me, if he’s hurt and asking for me, I’m going.

Beau gestures that I should try to climb. “Over the fence, pretty girl.”

Frantic now, I gasp out, “Help me.” They each hold out their hands, and I grab on tightly to them. Several runners from my team put their clasped hands down to give me a boost to help me over. Once I hit the ground, Beau and Micah release my hands, and I’m running faster than I’ve ever run before. Faster than I thought I was physically able to run. Micah and Beau are behind me, grunting and huffing as they try to keep up.

A few of Xander’s teammates, coincidentally the same jackasses who have loved picking on me in English, motion to others that they should move to the side to give us room.

“Where’s Scarlett?” Xander’s voice sounds shaky and uncertain.

My voice falters through harsh breaths. “I-I’m here, Xander.” I rush to kneel at his side where they’re trying to immobilize him, but he’s a big dude and keeps trying to push free of them. The second he hears me, though, he calms.

“Red,” he gasps out, his eyes connecting with mine. There’s so much relief there in his face, so much emotion, it cuts me deep. Shivers wash over my body as I take in the sight of him on the ground.

It doesn’t matter what he’s done, whatever he’s keeping from me; I only care that he’s okay. And at the moment, it doesn’t seem he remembers that we had words last night.

I take his hand in mine and squeeze tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here. Try not to move.”

He’s still got his helmet on, and I so badly want to touch his cheek, to reassure him somehow, but the face guard is in the way. His eyes are dazed, and he keeps blinking. I’m not entirely sure, but his pupils look dilated to me. My jaw tenses. This is scaring the shit out of me.

The ambulance comes through the wide gate at the other end of the field, driving directly onto the grass. Paramedics exit and hurry to us, capable hands flying to check over Xander while they ask plenty of questions. The players and coaches do their best to answer, giving all the information they can about what happened. It’s all kind of going over my head, everyone’s words hazy and hushed, as if all I can focus on is Xander’s hand in mine and his gaze riveted to my face. I don’t know how long my lip has been clamped between my teeth, but I wince and ease up on it. I trace what I hope are soothing patterns on the back of his hand.

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