Page 102 of Almost
“I thought I told you to leave me alone.”
“I also told you that’s not how this works.” I smile at him, and he scoffs. “Blake, I’ll have him back in a little bit. You should get a pedicure or something. Go by yourself, or take Thalia with you, but Owen’s getting the rude awakening that he needs.”
Blake hesitates, looking at Owen before slowly nodding once. “Just be careful with him.”
“I am right here. Stop talking about me like I’m not!”
With some help from a nurse, I get a protesting Owen into the wheelchair. A small part of me feels bad that I’m making him do this, but I also know he can’t stay in the same destructive cycle. We switch to crutches at the exit, and I’m a little surprised he doesn’t try to swing them at me. Westay silent the entire car ride, listening to the faint whisperings of the radio.
I’m not surprised he starts yelling at me when Owen realizes I’m taking him to the stadium, but I don’t bother giving him a response. He wants to fight, and I’m not giving it to him.
“Get out of the car,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt to hop out.
I grab his crutches from the backseat as he sits unmoving in the front seat. Maybe I should have blindfolded him after he got in the car, but I think that would have put me one step closer to kidnapping than I’d like to be. I lean against the car, holding the crutches as more cars enter the lot.
“You good?” One of the guys calls to me and I wave him on, but after fifteen minutes pass by, it’s becoming more obvious that he has no plans to get out.
I try the door, but Owen locks it just before I reach for the handle. Seriously? Are we five?
Pressing the unlock button on my keys just before trying the handle, I yank it open before Owen can try to lock it again.
“Owen, this is ridiculous.”
“I hate you,” he sneers at me, and I roll my eyes.
“That’s fine.”
“What did you bring me here for? To rub it in my face that you can still play while I can’t? This is cruel, Sebastian, and you know it,” Owen snaps.
“Get out of the car, Owen,” I say, trying to keep my temper in check, but I’m about two seconds away from losing it.
“You can’t make me.”
That’s it. “Do you even fucking hear yourself? Get out of the car before I drag you out.” I’m not actually going to do that, but he needs this. I’d like to think if the roles were reversed, he’d give me the ass-kicking I need. I just hope he doesn’t call me on my bluff.
He stares at me in disbelief, before finally unbuckling himself. He’s careful of his leg, and I wait to offer him help until he asks for it. He has to decide he wants it. He struggles trying to swing his leg out of the car, and I hold my breath, ready to lunge forward if Owen needs it.
“Can I have the crutches?” he asks quietly, balancing on his good leg while holding onto the side of the car as I hand them over.
Owen adjusts them to the correct positioning under his arms before taking a few wobbled steps forward. “Come on,” I say, walking slowly so he can keep pace with me.
He doesn’t falter until we get to where he was hit by the car, but Owen doesn’t ask to turn back, to my surprise. He simply readjusts his crutches, starting again as I watch him proudly. We take the shortcut to where the entrance to the field is, and I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision by forcing him to come.
It’s Tuesday, so the team technically doesn’t have to be here, but we all get together for a few hours every other week to encourage team bonding. It’s our time to relax and let loose to remind ourselves this game is also supposed to be fun.
I follow his lead as he enters the field, staying near in case his crutches give on the bouncy turf. The ball being passed around hits someone in the face and a few of them laugh, but the focus is on Owen. Marques is the first toapproach, a beaming smile on his face. “Lewis! Man, is it good to see you up and moving around.”
Owen slumps, resting a majority of his weight on the crutches. “Yeah, I guess,” he replies quietly, causing Marques’s smile to dim at his unenthused tone.
The team swarmed the hospital the first few days Owen was there, but once he woke up, Owen was insistent that he didn’t want to see anyone from the team. The guys rotate days, coming to sit in the waiting room, bringing coffee for the nurses and signed footballs for the pediatric floor, just waiting for Owen to change his mind about letting them see him, but he hasn’t.
I take a step back as more of the guys come to talk to Owen, giving him some room to breathe. I’m happy to see Reece is here, but he hangs back from everyone else, looking anywhere but at Owen. A fraction of my guilt eases when Owen cracks the closest I’ve seen to a smile in weeks, and it’s a relief to know that he can still do that.
“Hey,” I greet Reece with a smile, and he seems taken aback that I’m talking to him. “It’s good that you’re here with some of the guys. Some of my best memories with the team are from these days.”
“I think I’m actually going to head out,” he says, shifting his eyes back to where Owen is.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty about getting his spot.”