15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Carissa

Would it be a bad idea to ask Cole to explain the rules of rugby to me tomorrow? Probably. But I still like the idea of spending a good chunk of my Sunday with him, up close and personal as he walks me through a game that is as thrilling as it is bewildering. I'm motivated as much by a desire to spend time with him as I am by a real interest in rugby.

I've made it almost halfway through the game against the Utah Warriors without needing to do much outside of taping a few ankles and shoulders because Mel is pretty on top of things, which means I've spent most of the evening watching these big, burly men ram into each other without padding or inhibition. It's fascinating the way nothing seems to stop the game like it does in other sports. Even when Moxie kicks the ball out of bounds— into touch , according to the Thunder's announcer—the players are always ready to lift each other into the air to catch the ball when it gets thrown back in. The ball gets passed over and over, sometimes too quickly to follow, and unless someone is running with it or kicking it forward, it always moves backwards. When someone gets tackled, Cole is there to grab the ball and keep it moving with a quick pass.

And the energy! The crowd is wild and loud and a lot more devoted to the team than I expected after such a quiet week, and there's one particularly rowdy group that has all sorts of chants that they start up, the words echoing through the stadium as the rest of the crowd joins in.

The Thunder is up by ten points as we near the end of the first half, and I'm feeling good about the future of this game.

Hefting my backpack of supplies—tape, wraps, water, etc.—higher on my shoulder, I wander along our sideline as both teams set up for what I think is called a scrum. Half a dozen men on each side lock arms and duck their heads, creating a sort of structure held up by the strength of their legs alone. Cole rolls the ball into the middle of the pack and both teams start pushing, trying to be the stronger side as the ball makes its way beneath the Thunder's legs. It reaches the back, and Cole grabs it again, tossing it straight to Moxie, who passes it sidelong to Sharkie. Sharkie makes it a few yards before he gets knocked down by a Warrior. Two other Thunder players join him and keep the Warriors at bay, getting the ball free for Cole to grab it and toss it to Moxie once more.

Moxie makes a break for it in between two of the Warriors, and the crowd goes wild. A defensive player moves to tackle him, but Moxie twists to the side to dodge, nearly running into another player. He pivots again, then crumples. Did he get tackled? I didn't see anyone close enough. The ball slips from his hands, and a Warrior picks it up and runs, but none of the Thunder seem to care because Moxie's still on the ground, hands fisting the turf and his teeth gritted in pain. The crowd stills.

My stomach twists into a knot .

I've spent the last forty minutes watching these guys collide into each other at breakneck speeds. Slam into the ground with every tackle. They all get up, bruised and battered but ready to keep playing. Seeing Moxie motionless on the ground has filled me with cold dread.

Thankfully, Mel isn't frozen like me and is already on the field, crouching at his side and talking rapidly as she touches his right knee.

"And play will stop for an injury on the Thunder side," the announcer says. His booming voice knocks some sense into me, and I dart forward to see if Mel needs my help.

Moxie is shaking his head when I reach him. "Not like this," he tells Mel through measured breaths.

Mel frowns. "You're either being a baby, or this is worse than I'd like. And you've never been a baby, Auxier."

Moxie clenches his jaw, sweat dripping down the sides of his face. "I'll be fine for the second half."

"Carissa, help me get him up."

We each grab an arm, and Moxie groans as we haul him to his feet. He's putting weight on his leg, which is a good sign, but that doesn't mean he avoided serious injury. Surrounded by sweaty Thunder players, we slowly move off the field to words of encouragement and concerned questions.

"Dean Oldman will sub in for Malcolm Auxier and finish out the first half," the announcer says, and the rest of the team reluctantly heads back onto the field to play the last few minutes.

By the time we get Moxie to a chair, he looks completely spent, and I have a bad feeling that he's downplaying the amount of pain he's in. I don't think anyone touched him during that play, but from what I saw, I can guess what might have happened.

I really hope I'm wrong .

"Talk to me, Malcolm," Mel says. Her voice wavers as she crouches in front of him. She seems to be trying to see inside his knee with how laser focused she is on it.

The knee is already swelling, and as we were walking, his leg kept wobbling, like he had no control over where the limb went. I've seen that before.

"Mel!" someone shouts.

She bites her lip, reluctant to leave.

"Go," Moxie breathes. "Carissa's got me."

I nod to agree, and Mel reluctantly jogs down the field to help another player. She passes Cole, who meets my gaze with a furrowed brow before he returns to the game.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Moxie says, pulling my eyes back to him. "I can see it in your eyes."

My stomach knots again. "I'm not the expert here. Mel should—"

"Tell me."

"You might have torn your ACL."

He moans, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. "Tell me something else."

I worked with plenty of knee injuries at the clinic, and while it'll take a physician to offer an actual diagnosis, I know what I saw. "Did you feel anything pop?"

He growls. "Am I going to regret it if I say yes?"

"Do you think lying to me will change the outcome?" I throw back.

The announcer says something about the first half coming to an end, and we're suddenly swarmed by the Thunder. They all want to know what happened and if Moxie will be okay, and he puts on a smile and forces out some jokes before telling the team to hit the locker room. There are only fifteen minutes in between halves, so he probably doesn't want them to waste any time.

As the Thunder filters into the tunnel, Mel joins me, looking frazzled. "I'm not very optimistic," she whispers to me.

"Me neither," I whisper back.

"I can hear you," Moxie whispers in turn. His eyes are closed again, his whole body tense. "Someone tell me I can still play. Please." Based on the desperation in his voice, he already knows that's not going to happen.

Tears fill my eyes, and I furiously try to blink them away as I turn my back to Moxie so he doesn't see. He'll recover. Eventually. But if I'm right about his ACL, there's no way he's playing the rest of this season. When my vision clears, I realize not all of the Thunder went to the locker room. Cole is standing just a few feet away, his expression anguished as he stares at Moxie.

I don't think. I just step forward and wrap my arms around Cole's torso even though he's hot and sweaty. He tucks his arms around me without hesitation, and I don't know if he's comforting me or the other way around. I was right about how it feels to be held by him, but this is far from the circumstances in which I would have liked to experience Cole's enveloping hold for the first time. Still, I bury my face in his chest and cling to his protective embrace, hoping he can make everything better.

Some first game this has been.