Page 133 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“They are,” I couldn’t agree more. “They don’t make me feel… insignificant. I know each of them is well off, even if they don’t show it. They’ve seen my family on the rise of fame and fortune and watched it all fall down. The best thing about being with them is they never judged me. Even when we became dirt poor and had to move back here because it was all we could afford, they didn’t treat me differently. I appreciated that.”

“I’m glad you got to experience the difference,” Dimitri agrees. “Makes you realize what you deserve.”

We’re quiet for a moment before Dimitri whispers, “Do you think Jayce caused the accident?”

I already know my resolve on that one, but I want to hear Dimitri’s opinion.

“What’s your verdict?”

“I don’t think that mother was under the influence or sleep deprived,” Dimitri grumbles.

“Is that what’s being said?”

“Yup,” Dimitri reveals. “All over the news’ right now, but the police are furthering their investigation.”

“Great…” I groan and pinch my nose. “Just great.”

“Mikayla?”

With a slip of my hand from my nose, I glance to my right to see Jayce.

“I really don’t want to see you,” I announce and lower my phone to my lap. “Go home, Jayce. You have training tomorrow.”

“Training was canceled,” he declares and walks to the bench, making me groan in despair.

I don’t want to deal with this right now.

“Can’t you, for once, look less dreadful whenever you see me?”

“Now, why would I do that?” I counter. “Just because my dad’s your coach doesn’t mean you get special rights.”

“Can we just have a normal conversation?”

“And what do you have to ask of me?” Moving my phone to the bench, I rise up to face him, which makes him frown.

“You don’t look well at all,” he mutters. “You should be lying down, not sitting in this empty hallway.”

“I’m glad voicing your opinion makes you feel good,” I declare. “As to where I go in this hospital, it’s none of your concern. Now, if you have nothing else to say, you can go home.”

“You have blood on your shirt.”

I stop myself from answering him to glance down at my scrub shirt to confirm he’s right. There was blood on my shirt.

From the little girl.

I hope Dimitri took my stethoscope for safekeeping, but the sight of my shirt having blood makes me cringe.

“That’s what happens when you have to save a child’s life, Jayce.” I let out a huff and pull the shirt up and over my head.

“W-What are you doing?” he asks while watching me walk across from the bench to the garbage can, where I throw the shirt out. My scrub pants don’t have blood specs on them, just grass and dirt stains.

Blood, especially a stranger’s blood, on my clothes is a no-no.

Others would wash it and be fine, but I can’t take that risk. It triggers things that I don’t want to deal with.

Sorry, planet Earth, but I gotta let this one go.

“I don’t have the special cleaning solutions needed to get blood out of my top. Plus, it’s been too long, so it probably won’t come out.”

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