Page 29

Cross watched the hospital ceiling go by overhead as his gurney was pushed along.

He blinked drowsily. White speckles with round lights.

Gray speckles with long lights. White. Gray .

His legs hurt, but distantly, the pain mostly drowned under a cotton wool blanket of the good drugs.

He’d been trying to tough it out on less, but halfway through being positioned for the MRI he’d started sweating like a pig and almost passed out, and they loaded him up good.

I am really fucked up. Not just on the meds, but with the injuries he was trying not to think about.

When he’d caught sight of his right foot and ankle, they’d looked swollen like a balloon, purple and red, and not lying quite right.

His left shin throbbed a familiar I-think-I-broke-it ache, but the right was worse, whatever he’d done to his ankle.

Or what two big guys landing hockey-stick-down had done to it.

Whatever it is will heal, right?

He still had his feet, both sets of toes moved, even if the effort had made him want to puke right there in the ambulance.

No concussion, although they’d done the protocol with him three times.

No broken ribs so he was breathing fine.

Been there, done that, got the spirometer. Broken ribs totally sucked.

The world swung dizzily as the folks pushing him pivoted his bed through a doorway.

He closed his eyes against a surge of nausea.

Then the motion stopped. Clicks and beeps, touches to his chest and hands, signaled wheel brakes being engaged, monitors being connected.

Rustles and movement meant multiple people around him.

Cross took a breath and opened his eyes.

Marie stared down at him. “Hey, little brother. What the hell did you do?”

“Wasn’t me.” He licked his dry lips. “Kenny fucked up. Or Vicki?” He couldn’t remember, just two bodies, one in blue and white, the other in red, toppling toward him. Landing… He didn’t like being fuzzy around Marie. “Hey, tilt the bed up some, would you?”

After an initial swoop of dizziness, sitting up made him feel better, more in control.

The room was entirely too crowded, though.

He spotted Dr. Ouellette and Wendy Unger and Coach Quinn.

All those folks standing around didn’t make him feel optimistic, but he pulled together his composure.

“You may be asking why I gathered you here today.”

At least Unger chuckled. “I’m glad to see you feeling better.”

Except my foot is fucked. “Thanks. Are you putting out a statement?” He fought the drug haze to pay attention.

“Lower body injury. LTIR. The usual.” Unger stepped closer. “We’ll put a lot of ‘no details, resting comfortably’ messages up on social media. In fact, I’m about to go do that right now. Take care.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t turn his head to watch her leave. His neck felt stiff, but if there was a real problem there, someone would’ve told him. They’d have MRIed his head and spine. Right?

Coach Quinn came over. “Hey, Cross, good to see you looking better.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

“The whole team’s been pestering me for updates.”

“Tell them I’ll be back before they have time to miss me,” Cross lied.

“I’ll do that.”

“Hey, did we win?” He couldn’t remember who they’d been playing, just a game, a crashing fall, red uniforms… Fargo, right.

“Two-zip. So yours was the game winner.”

He licked his dry lips. “Cool.” Despite his determination, his eyelids drooped. He rubbed his face. “Sorry. Long day.”

“It’s late. I’ll let you get some rest.” Coach hesitated by his bed, then gripped Cross’s shoulder through the flimsy hospital gown. “You take care, heal up. We’ll miss the hell out of you for the playoffs, but the most important thing is to heal up and come on back for next year.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Coach turned to go, Cross felt his eyes closing again. In the darkness behind his lids, he heard Marie telling people her brother was tired and to clear the room, come back later. Movement and voices made a soft background, then Marie said more sharply, “Not you!”

“Not going anywhere,” Cross mumbled. Unfair of her to joke about that.

“Hush, RJ, I didn’t mean you.”

He smelled the light perfume she always wore and forced his eyes open. “Sorry about this mess. Hell of a game to come to, huh?”

She peered down at him, her eyes a bit bleary although her makeup was as perfect as ever. “Not your fault. You need to rest but first, there’s someone who’d like to see you.”

A familiar voice behind her mumbled, “That’s okay. I don’t need to.”

Cross craned his stiff neck. “Rusty?”

“Uh, yeah.” Rusty appeared at Marie’s shoulder. “Hey. So I bet that sucked.”

Cross laughed helplessly although that shook his legs, sending an ache echoing through him. “Yeah. Sure did.” Does.

Rusty dragged his fingers through his overgrown blond hair. “I know I don’t belong here but Marie kept saying I should come along.”

“You didn’t want to?” Cross’s lips felt rubbery and weird, but he needed to know.

“Of course I did.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But I’m not family or anything.”

“You’re my friend.” Cross didn’t want Rusty wandering off into the dark not knowing that.

“My best friend.” Although this injury would screw up all his plans to offer Rusty a chance at summer training, a chance to spend time together.

Damn it. He couldn’t quite remember what all he’d planned.

Keeping Rusty around, though. Fatigue was creeping over him but he fought for coherence. “Don’ go ’way.”

“Okay. Except I have morning practice.”

“Wha’ time izzit?”

Marie said, “After midnight.”

“Fuck.” That woke him up. Rusty had a long drive down to Eugene. Cross couldn’t remember how long right now, in his fuzzy, chemically-enhanced brain, but too much to be heading out this late. “Rusty, you should get going. Drive careful. Don’ miss practice.”

“Does he know how to drive carefully?” Marie raised a teasing eyebrow at Rusty, who flushed.

“He’s a good driver,” Cross contended, although he couldn’t remember if he’d ever ridden beside Rusty. “What’re you talking about?”

“I was kinda worried, driving here.” Rusty messed his hair further. Cross liked the way the silky strands tousled up around his face.

He couldn’t say so in front of Marie. “Well, I’m fine. You need to make your practice.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Rusty shifted foot to foot. For a second, Cross wondered if Rusty might kiss him. Cross was pretty sure his mouth tasted disgusting, but he could keep his lips closed. However, after a glance at Marie, Rusty gave him an odd, half-hearted wave, and headed out of the room.

Cross called, “Bye. Have a good game,” after him, before the door closed.

Marie dragged a chair closer to Cross’s bedside and sat down. “So. You were wondering about dating someone younger. Movies together. Not sure if you’re doing the right thing? Got something you want to tell me, little brother?”

He did, and didn’t. Either way, he was not going to start talking about Rusty when his brain was tripping on drugs and he was so tired he might hallucinate pink elephants. “Did you talk to the doctors?”

That wiped the teasing look off her face. “Not in any detail. Did you?”

“Ortho guy’s supposed to come by tomorrow. Right ankle’s fucked, though. Pretty sure it’s gonna need surgery.” He cleared his throat. “The MRI tech didn’t look me in the face when she told me the scan quality was good.”

“I’m sorry, RJ.” Marie laid a hand on his arm. “That was a pretty scary accident to watch.”

Even more from underneath. “Did you tell Mom and Dad I’m fine? Don’ want them finding out from Facebook.” He yawned.

“I texted them. I told them they didn’t need to drop everything and rush out here tonight but if you want them—”

“No. Nope. This is good. You an’ me. An’ Rusty.” Another yawn about split his jaw.

Marie patted his arm. “It’s so damned tempting to take advantage of your loose lips, but I won’t.”

“M’lips aren’t loose.” He thought about how he wanted to give Rusty a blow job. “Maybe too tight.”

Marie chuckled and lowered the head of his bed. She rose, went over to the door, and turned out the brightest lights.

“Are you leaving?” Cross couldn’t figure out if he wanted solitude, or wanted her there. “Do you have a car? You coulda left with Rusty.”

“I have a car, a driver, and two bodyguards, if I need them.” She came back and lowered herself into the bedside chair. For once, she seemed less than fluidly graceful. “I’m staying right here.”

“Might be late, for visitors.”

“Let them try to move me.” She lifted her chin and folded her arms.

Usually when Marie had that look on her face, the world got out of her way and gave her whatever she wanted. “’Kay. Thanks.”

“Go to sleep,” she told him. “No doubt they’ll be back in an hour to wake you up and check your blood pressure or something. Take the rest while you can get it.”

“Right.” He couldn’t roll off his back. Both legs were encased with cumbersome splints, and he had the impression that new and fun levels of pain were lurking, ready to explode if he moved.

Usually, he couldn’t sleep on his back, but right now, he didn’t think that would be a problem. “G’night, then.”

“Good night.”

As he drifted off, Cross had the impression of his sister sitting there in a suit of armor, ready to defend him. Silly brain. He wondered if Rusty had been in the room at all, or if he’d imagined the whole thing.