Page 115 of Fighting Fate
The tension is thick, and all eyes remain fixed on the unfolding drama. The outcome of this night, once full of promise, now hangs in a delicate balance.
The medical team works with meticulous care, their actions both deliberate and swift. Miles remains motionless. The subdued whispers of the crowd blend with the distant buzz of anxious discussions, weaving an atmosphere with collective unease.
I shift my gaze between the medical team, the clustered players, and the anxious faces in the stands. Each passing second feels like an eternity.
As the medical team evaluates Miles, they gently lift him onto a stretcher. The sight of the ambulance rolling onto the field elicits a collective gasp from the stadium. Mrs. Chasen covers her face as tears carve silent trails down her cheeks. Nearby, my parents stand by her, my mom's comforting arm around her shoulders, my dad offering words of reassurance.
In my head, I chant a silent mantra: Everything will be okay. Miles has to be okay. He's always been the strong one.
He's my Miles.
My eyes drift to Mr. Chasen. He's a statue of contained emotion, his eyes steadfastly following his son's journey to the ambulance.
As the ambulance departs, its sirens slicing through the tense quiet, the stadium is enveloped in a surreal calm. Moments ago, it was alive with the vibrancy of the game. Mr. Chasen's stoic demeanor reflects the silent solidarity of those around him, a wordless chorus of hope amidst the worry.
The ambulance shrinks to a speck in the distance, and a subdued sigh seems to sweep through the crowd. Wyatt, standing next to me, wraps an arm around my shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. It's a gesture of support I didn't know I needed, and I lean into the warmth of his embrace, grateful for the silent solace.
Luke, typically a pillar of strength, locks eyes with me. In that brief exchange, a wordless understanding passes between us. We're both shaken, grappling with the unexpected turn of events. The close-knit group of players slowly drifts apart, a shared burden of concern weighing heavily on each of us.
I scan the sea of faces in the stands. Mrs. Chasen, encircled by supportive figures, embodies a mix of vulnerability and fortitude in her distress. My parents share a glance, an exchange that speaks volumes.
As the crowd begins to disperse, the usual post-game chatter and jubilation give way to a collective reflection, a pause in the rhythm of life. We are all suddenly reminded that life can throw the most unexpected and challenging curveballs. And if there's one person who embodies the spirit to face them head-on, it's Miles.
Mrs. Chasen's gaze flits around the hospital waiting room, her voice trembling. "Where's Miles? They said he'd be here, at Maple Valley Medical." Her eyes, wide and searching, move from one face to another, desperate for any news of her son.
I stand, taking in the chaos of the hospital. Doctors dart between rooms, nurses rush past, and the air is thick with the anxiety of waiting families. The hum of hushed conversations and the rhythmic steps of pacing feet fill the space. Something's not right.
I try to calm myself. Don't jump to conclusions, Milli. But the what ifs crowd my mind. What if Miles is seriously hurt?
Stop, he's fine. He has to be.
Mrs. Chasen's whisper breaks through my thoughts. "What if it's back?" Her fingers grip her husband's arm like a lifeline.
Back? My heart races, piecing together unsaid fears.
A nurse approaches, her expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she says gently. "I can't release information without proper authorization."
"But please," Mrs. Chasen's voice cracks with desperation, "he was hurt at his football game. I just need to know he's okay."
The nurse offers a comforting word. "We'll update you as soon as possible."
I sink into a chair, its hard surface matching the tension I feel. Suddenly, the doors swing open, and familiar faces rush in. Luke, my parents...After Miles was whisked away in the ambulance, I remember hugging Wyatt goodbye, his promise to follow, and the understanding look from my parents before I dashed from the stadium. I had to be here. Miles needed me.
Their faces are etched with the same worry that's gnawing at me.
"We got here as quick as we could," Dad says, and I believe him. The game, the victory—it all seems so distant now.
Luke dashes to the nurse's desk, urgency in his voice. "Where is he? Is he okay?" His questions tumble out. Dad gently pulls him back, guiding him toward the Chasens.
Mom's eyes meet mine, brimming with tears. She hurries over. "Sweetheart, are you holding up?" Her voice quivers.
I nod, fighting to keep my emotions in check. I'm usually good at this, but not today. Not with Miles in the balance.
The nurse's voice cuts through the tension. "Let's take a moment, everyone."
Mrs. Chasen's frustration boils over. "How can I breathe when I don't know what's happening with my son?"
She confronts the nurse, her finger pointed in accusation. "You've told us nothing! He could be..." Her voice trails off, choked with emotion.