Page 163 of Let You Love Me

The sound of a siren.

My father screaming as he runs onto the field with his assistant beside him. The low murmur of fans around me as an ambulance appears, taking the field and parking just feet from Teagan’s prone form.

Wait.

I need to see him. I need to.

My eyes fill with tears as I race down the stands, pushing my way through fans and spectators, all of them watching with bated breath.

I take the stairs quickly, as fast as my feet will carry me, which still isn’t fast enough when I push through a throng of onlookers surrounding the fence in front of the field. “Excuse me. Out of the way!” I dodge another person. “Move. Fuckingmove!” I cry.

I’m not gonna make it.

I break through the crowd, and icy fingers grip my chest at the sight of Teagan strapped to a board as they load him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.

Shoving at the gate, I try to get through, but security stops me with a beefy arm to my chest. “You can’t get onto the field ma’am.”

I ignore him, pushing and clawing at his arm. “That’s my boyfriend!”

Another guard comes to help restrain me, but I fight him, too. “My father is the coach. Please,” I wail as tears clog my throat. “I need to go with him. He’s hurt. He needs me,” I cry.

The guard wraps his arms around me from behind, pinning my arms to my side while I try to shake him off like a madwoman. “Ma’am. You need to stop!”

“Let go of me! Let go. I work here, and he’s my—” The words die in my throat as the ambulance pulls off the field, and I fall to my knees, a keening sound erupting from my chest while the sirens blare in my ears.

And all I can think is,this is all my fault.

Chapter 44

TEAGAN

I’m floating.

Weightless.

Everything is dark. Until it’s not.

I wince, squinting through bleary eyes, but the light hurts, so I shut them quickly.

In the background, someone is talking, but I can’t make out the words.

My eyelids flutter again, and I open them, sending a wave of nausea ripping through my gut. The room spins, turning with the pounding agony in my head as I try and remember what the hell happened, sensing it’s right there on the edge of my brain, but the memory slips through my fingers like sand.

Wincing, I focus instead on the hushed voices around me and make out one word: football.

That’s right . . .

I got hit.

The memory sweeps through me at once. It happened so fast it’s a blur—the defender coming at me, then the ground rushing up to meet me, and the sickening thud.

I try to move, but everything fucking hurts. Every twitch of my muscles sends sharp jolts of pain through my back like I’m driving railroad spikes through my bones.

And then I remember what my heart wants to forget, and it’s like waking from a bad dream.

My chest pounds at the memory of my confrontation with Chance. And Lane . . .

Aw, fuck.