Chapter 23

My voice ringsover the field in the silence, while what little chatter existed between my teammates as they knelt in place dies away. Coach Smith’s arms hold me a little less solidly, and I break through, stumbling the rest of the way to Camden’s side. I collapse to my knees beside where he lies on the ground, as a ragged breath tears from my chest. I unlatch the strap on my helmet and pull it off, throwing it to the ground. I reach down, cautiously resting my gloved hand against his helmet as tears well in my eyes. He blinks up at me, and his face pulls with pain even as he tries to smile.

“El,” he manages, wincing when he tries to sit up. “My arm…”

“Are you okay?” I ask, my pitch higher as my eyes dart everywhere trying to take in the injury.

“It hurts,” Cam grits through his teeth as our trainer Brock puts a firm hand on my shoulder.

“Graves,” he says sternly. “Let him be still. He went down hard, we don’t know how bad the injury is yet. Come away,” he adds, looking across to the end of the field, aglow with the lights of emergency vehicles. “They’re bringing the ambulance onto the field.”

He takes a half step back, but stands more solidly behind me when I don”t move. Cam’s head tilts all the way back to the ground, a vein in his throat bulging as he grits his teeth, but he doesn’t say anything as his eyes squeeze shut.

“Elliot,” Brock says again, a warning in his tone. “Back away, so they can do what they need to do.”

When I refuse to move, the Trainer’s hand snares one arm while Coach Smith grabs the other. I guess he got over the initial shock, and thinks I’m not going to leave Cam without a fight.

Well, yeah. They’re right.

“Let’s go,” Coach says, as they pull me away from Camden.

I dig my heels in, but it doesn’t stop the two strong men from dragging me halfway to our bench, well out of the way of the incoming paramedics. Their black jumpsuits are ominous, the polyester of their jackets reflecting the bright lights shining from the top of the yellow county ambulance as they rush to Cam and do a quick assessment. They press and lift his limbs. Through the flurry of bodies, I try to stand on the tips of my toes to get a better look but it isn’t much use. I can’t see well enough to tell what’s going on, or what kind of damage might have been done in the fall.

A woman with a short brown ponytail pulls over a metal gurney, and the men carefully lift Camden onto it before raising it and pushing it to the back of the ambulance. Cam’s head lifts as he reaches the top of the ramp, his eyes meeting and locking with mine. I try to rush forward again, but Coach’s hard forearm stops me before I can even make it four steps.

“You can’t go with him. Let them do their job, Elliot.”

“Where are they taking him?” I demand, voice cracking with panic as the gurney is righted and our connection is broken.

“To the hospital,” he attempts a gentler tone, but it just sounds foreboding coming from the normally stern man. “The county hospital is close, we passed it on our way to the stadium.”

Some part of me registers that I’m nodding, but all I could focus on was Cam’s feet in those yellow cleats hanging off the edge of the metal bed as they slam the doors shut. The woman pulls herself up into the driver’s seat, flips on the sirens, and speeds away, turning hard out of the gate at the end of the football field. Around me, players rise from their kneeling positions, but an uncomfortable quiet still hovers over the field as people try to figure out what to do. My skin tingles with the feeling of a thousand eyes on me, shocked stares, before a familiar voice breaks through the murmurs of the crowd.

“Elliot!”

Casey. Her pained cry wrings my battered heart one more twist as I stiffen, turning towards the sound.

Shit. Casey… She heard that. She heard that I…. That we…

I spot her on the sidelines and freeze. The tears blur my vision and all of the sound around me fades. They took Camden away from me. I’ve never felt more alone in my life. I see Casey coming closer, her expression unreadable. She stops before me. Suddenly, shimmering strands of blue and silver fill my vision as Casey launches herself at me and throws her arms around my neck.

“He’s gonna be okay,” she squeezes tightly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

I let out a shuddering gasp as I hug her back, burying my face in her hair as the tears begin to fall. After a moment she pulls back, smoothing the hair back from my forehead, and looks me in the eyes.

“Come on,” she says resolutely. “We can take my car.”

She tugs me along behind her as she weaves through the crowd to the front gate. Something about the sight of a determined cheerleader hauling a shell-shocked football player seems to send out a force field, and though people watch as we pass, they immediately move out of our way. We get into the car and the usually safety-conscious Casey peels out before we even have our seatbelts fastened. Good thing, because I don’t think I could have managed to pull them over my pads. The cabin is silent as she guns it to the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “Casey, I’m so sorry…”

“Elliot,” she reaches over and put her hand on mine where it rests on my leg. “You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

“You deserve the world,” I sniff. “And I love you so much… I’m just so sorry that I couldn’t love you like you deserve.”

“Like you love Camden.” She watches the road, both hands back on the steering wheel.

“Yes,” my voice breaks.

“I love you,” she says gently. “You’re one of my best friends. I just wish you would have told me…”

We slow at a stop light, faces painted red by its glow. There’s nothing but the sound of the engine and the rapid pace of my heart beating in my ears.

“Did you know?” she asks. “When we started dating?”

“No.” I answer quickly, before I stop to really think about it. “I don’t know…Maybe, on some level, I knew I wasn’t as girl-crazy as I should be. But, no. I would never have asked you if I thought it would lead to me hurting you one day.”

I look across to her, afraid of what I’ll find. But she meets my gaze, then reaches over to squeeze my hand.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She casts me a smirk that is so purely Casey it hurts. “At least I know it wasn’t me… I kind of developed a complex!” A surprised, wet laugh shoots out of my chest. “I’m serious!” She laughs too. “I’m a beautiful, talented, funny cheerleader and my boyfriend of two years isn’t trying to make a move on me? I started to worry I was going to die a virgin or something.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be your issue.”

“No?”

“Nah. You are, objectively, incredibly hot.”

“Objectively,” she agrees with a grin. Despite the way my heart is clenched with fear for Cam, I can’t help but grin back.

“So,” she asks after a while, fingers tapping on the wheel. “How long has that been going on? You, and Camden?”

“Ah,” I wince, rubbing the tops of my knees. “Since the week after we broke up?”

She nods, as if to say that makes sense. The signs for the emergency room glow ahead of us, and Casey steps a little harder on the gas pedal as she chews up the distance and finds us a space in the parking lot. I jump out of the Jeep, vaguely registering a chirping behind me as the doors lock and I run through the dark lot to the glass doors of the hospital. I skid to a stop as I enter the fluorescent waiting room, looking all around until I spot a help desk with a woman in purple scrubs sitting behind it to my left. I hurry over, my palms slapping to the table as Casey enters the hall.

“Hello,” the nurse says, glancing over me, taking in me in my pads and grass-stained uniform as if assessing my condition. “How can I help you?”

“My boyfriend, Camden Holt,” I manage. “He was brought in from our football game, in the ambulance. He got hurt.”

“Okay,” she nods, voice gentle and thick with a drawl. “Are his parents on the way?”

“I don’t know,” tears clog my throat, my vision clouding as I think about Mr. Holt. “I think so, probably, I don’t know…”

I pull in a ragged breath, and the nurse looks around the lobby for a moment before she stands and comes around to my side of the desk. Her badge clanks noisily, sparkly charms flashing in the lights as she puts a gentle arm around my shoulders.

“Honey, you come here with me… Sugar,” she directs towards Casey. “What’s your name?”

“Casey,” she crosses her arms, rolling her lip in as she works to keep her expression neutral. “I’m their friend, I gave Elliot a ride,” she nods towards me. “We kind of left in the middle of the game…”

“Alright, Casey,” the woman smiles at her. “We’re going to get you two settled in a waiting room here. I need you to message an adult, and let them know where you are. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, pulling out her phone as I’m gently ushered to a quiet waiting room set aside to the right. Wide windows crossed with some kind of weird metal mesh separate the room from the hallway, and in the corner, a tv softly plays a cooking show. I take a seat in a squeaky gray chair, and a bottle of water finds its way into my hand. The sterile antiseptic smell of the hospital begins to sink in around me, and I find that I miss the nurse. Her jingly keychains and vanilla scent are comforting, unlike this white and gray box where I’ve been left to think about Camden.

I jump when Casey appears in front of me, so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t even notice that she’d been gone.

“I called my Coach,” she explains. “She and Coach Smith are getting everything settled. Coach Baxter is talking to the parents, I guess, and he said Mr. Holt is on his way…” Her mouth pulls to the side, and she smooths my hair off of my forehead. “Are you okay?”

“I wish I could see him,” I rub a hand across my eyes. “I just need to know he’s okay.”

“He will be,” she says with a confidence I don’t feel. “It’s gonna be alright.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows against my knees and my forehead in my hands as I concentrate on slowing my breathing. Somewhere in my periphery, I’m aware of Casey settling into a chair down the row, but I don’t hear much else as I think about Cam. Football has always been a collage of bright moments; from the first time Camden dragged me into the backyard so he could practice his spiral, football has been interchangeable with our friendship and happiness. But suddenly all I can see is his face, twisted with pain from the way he landed when he went down under the weight of that red and black jersey. A heavy weight sits on my chest, eyes squeezing closed, and I just can’t make that image go away…

A hand settles on my shoulder and squeezes firmly, and I jump as I look over and see Mr. Holt taking the seat next to me. His chin is red, like he’s been squeezing and rubbing it over and over, and his eyes are tired, but he smiles at me and rests his hand against the back of my chair.

“I talked to a doctor,” he tells me, voice quiet as if he is afraid to break the stillness of the empty room. “They just took him back.”

“Surgery?” I ask, my voice small.

“Not surgery,” he pats my shoulder. “Not today, at least. Our boy has a ‘distal radial fracture’,” he does the finger quotes with his free hand, and I can’t help but smile a little. “Broken once at the wrist, and twice up higher on his radius.” Mr. Holt reaches a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “They’re going to try to set it here without opening him up, and splint it. Monday we’ll go see a doctor at home, do more x-rays and see if surgery is going to be needed, but they’re hopeful.”

“So, he’s going to be okay?”

“He’s going to be okay, Elliot,” the arm on the back of my chair moves to squeeze me tightly to his side. “He’s going to be okay…”

“Thank God,” I rub my eye hard. “I’ve been… Really worried.”

“Casey told me,” he nods. “But he’s in good hands.”

“Where is she?” I look over to the window, just realizing she’s gone.

“She went back to the stadium, I told her we’ve got things settled here. They’re going to finish the game out.”

“But I can stay?” I look back at his face.

“You can stay,” he nods. “I called your parents, I’m going to bring you home with me and Camden.”

“Thank you…”

We sit there for a while in comfortable silence, waiting for an update. My foot taps a quick beat on the smooth shiny tiles. Mr. Holt’s feet are still, an outward example of being calm and collected, but the magazine he rolled in his hands will never lie flat again. I idly wonder if this is his courtroom face, still on the outside even if he’s panicking within. The only sound is the quiet buzz from the tv in the corner, broken by the occasional set of feet walking purposefully down the hallway. It feels like we’ve been there for hours when a nurse in green scrubs leans into the room and calls their last name.

I jump up, following Mr. Holt to the door as the nurse leads us down the hall to a recovery area. Beds are sectioned off with thick sliding curtains, and Mr. Holt stands back outside of one receiving information from the doctor and staff as I hurry into the stall. Cam’s eyes are closed and he leans against thick white pillows. Tan gauze is wrapped around his hand and up to his elbow, puffy and thick, and his arm rests elevated on a pillow. A sharp burst of air leaves me, relief from a fear I didn’t know I still held until I saw that he really was fine and looking relatively normal, and at the sound, Cam opens his eyes and smiles.

“El,” he murmurs drowsily.

“Hey,” I rush to the side of the bed, leaning over his injured arm to kiss his forehead and press my hand tightly to his cheeks. “God, I’m so glad you’re okay…”

“My arm hurts a little,” he winces. “But I’m okay.” His free arm reaches up to tuck loose hair behind my ear. “It doesn’t feel that bad, really.”

“You’re gonna be out for the rest of the season,” my eyes well with tears.

“Yes, well,” he grins, assuming a slightly slurred version of his movie star voice. “We’ll always have Paris.”

“Camden,” my voice breaks on a wet laugh, and I tap my forehead against his. “No, God, don’t say that… We’ll have more than Paris.”

“We’ll have forever.” Cam agrees solemnly.

He sits up slightly and tugs me down to his lips, kissing me as firmly as he can with no leverage. I ease him back to lay flat against the bed, releasing all of the fear and anxiety I’d had for him this evening against his lips. A throat clears softly behind us, and I reach up to disentangle Camden’s hand from my hair so I can back up, praying for a hole to swallow me down to the ground so I can avoid the slightly amused look on Mr. Holt’s face where he stands at the foot of the bed.

“Glad to see you’re feeling okay there, Cam.” He teases, wiggling Cam’s foot under the blankets.

“Hey, dad,” Cam grins, unrepentant in his relaxed state.

“Here’s the deal, bud,” Mr. Holt crosses to the other side of the bed, dropping a quick kiss to the top of Cam’s head. “We’re gonna bust you out of here soon, and we’ll head home. You’ve got to take it easy on that arm, you banged it up pretty good.” He gently squeezes his son’s hand. “You scared us there, for a minute.”

“Nah,” Cam looks at his wrapped arm. “It’ll take more than that to keep me down.”

“Right,” Mr. Holt chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Well, let’s just hope you still feel that way when the muscle relaxers wear off.”

We take up sentinel on either side of the hospital bed, trying to ignore the beeping as we chat with Cam and pass the time until a discharge nurse comes to tell us he’s been cleared to leave. Mr. Holt fills out so much paperwork my head spins, but I get to sit next to Cam and look into his eyes, my hand hovering gently over his, and then I am ushered out into the walkway as the curtains are drawn for Cam to change from the hospital gown to clothes. It takes everything in me to keep from protesting that I’ve seen him change before, but I think that might not go over so well with my boyfriend’s strict father.

He emerges with a grin, nodding to the blue sling holding his temporary cast in place.

“What do you think?”

“It matches your eyes,” I wink, falling into place at his side as we follow his dad through the hospital and out to the car.

Cam settles in the passenger seat, accepting our help laying the seat back so he can rest. I sit behind the driver’s seat, watching him with a smile as we drive onto the highway. He watches me back, smiling as his dad turns on the radio, and I soak up every slice of his face as the streetlights flashed by us. The excitement of the night has taken its toll, and now that the adrenaline has worn off we both seem to be fading fast. Before long Cam is asleep, snoring softly with his mouth hanging open and still facing me. I watch out the window with a smile as we drive, until I hear his dad clear his throat.

“Elliot,” he starts. “You did a good job tonight, watching out for Camden.” I look up, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I’m glad he’s had you as a friend, and I am proud that he has a boyfriend who cares so much for him.”

I feel a hot flush spread across my cheeks, but can’t stop the grin from showing there as well.

“Thanks, Mr. Holt,” he nods and looks back to the road.

I lean my head against the cool glass, smiling as my eyes slip closed and the soft rattle of our pads in the backseat lulls me to sleep.