Page 70 of The P*ssy Next Door
His expression went hazy at the mention of my brother. Shit, I shouldn't have said that. He didn't need to know right now that I hadn't been at the game. I took his good hand and tangled our fingers together.
“You should go home, get some rest,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping. “They're gonna keep me overnight, make sure I don't have any brain damage.”
Gulp.
I shook my head, just barely holding back the tears, and opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off with a gentle squeeze of my hand.
“I mean it, Willa. You look exhausted. And trust me, you're gonna need all your energy to deal with me for the next few weeks.”
I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
He sighed, his eyes drifting closed. “Concussion protocol. No practice, no workouts, no nothing. I'm gonna be a real pain in your ass until they clear me for activity again.”
Despite the worry still churning in my gut, I couldn't help but laugh. “Oh, joy. Just what I always wanted, a grumpy, stir-crazy boyfriend to babysit. You know no strenuous activity means no sex, right?”
His breathing evened out and the heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm, and I sat back in the uncomfortable plastic chair just watching him for a few minutes. I watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gentle flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
I was really mad at myself for needing an almost tragedy to see that Hayes and the Kingmans were more family to me than anyone else in the world.
I cried silently for what I’d lost today, and for what I gained.
DOCTOR’S ORDERS
HAYES
The first week of my concussion protocol was a special kind of hell. I'd never been good at sitting still, at being idle, and now I was forced to do nothing but rest and recover.
It was driving me insane.
I couldn't practice, couldn't work out, couldn't even watch game footage without the pounding in my head intensifying to an unbearable level. I couldn't be there for my team.
All I could do was lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling and trying not to let the dark thoughts consume me.
What if this was it? What if I never fully recovered, never played again? Who was I without football?
Icy hot pinpricks curled through my gut. Football was my life, my identity, for as long as I could remember. The idea of losing that, of having to find a new path, a new purpose... it was literally painful. My head was going to explode.
Willa made her way over to the couch, perching on the edge beside me. “Hayes, I know this is hard. But you're doing everything you're supposed to do. Resting, recovering?—”
“And going absolutely fucking stir-crazy in the process.” I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Sorry. I'm just... I'm already sick of this, and it's only been five fucking days. I'm out for weeks, trapped in my own body, in my own head.”
She wrapped her arms around me, and I leaned into her warmth. “I just feel so... useless. Like I'm letting everyone down.”
She cupped my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. “You could never let anyone down, Hayes. You're so much more than just a football player. You're brilliant, kind, compassionate. Football is a part of you, but it's not all of you.”
I swallowed hard, her words hitting me like a linebacker. “I don't know who I am without it. I've never had to think about anything else.”
After a long moment, Willa kissed me on the forehead and cupped my cheeks in the palms of her hands, forcing me to look at her. “You listen to me, Hayes. I know you like your plans and your goals and forever exceeding everyone's expectations. And this wasn't part of the plan.”
Ouch. I barked out a wounded sort of laugh.
“So change the plan.” She brushed her lips softly across mine, like a little reward for the hard love she was giving me right now. “I know that makes you uncomfortable, but you're smart, you're the hardest working person I know, and you're also stuck thinking there's only one way for you to exist in this world. I promise that's not true.”
“I don't... I can't—” I swallowed hard. Never once in my whole damn life had I ever said I can't. But my outlook was so damn dark. Nothing but black and white.
“You keep saying 'I', but you don't have to, nor should you try to, do this alone. I will be here for whatever you need, but I don't have a whole lot of experience with what you're going through, and I have to get to the coffee shop.”
“You're saying I should ask for help, huh?”