Page 18 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)

Gia

A sense of déjà vu settled over me as I took my seat between Cami and Ridley at the game the following weekend. The nerves were the same. The crowd was just as loud. But everything was completely different.

The tickets had arrived at my door accompanied by a huge bouquet of flowers and a paint by numbers set along with a note from Weston formally inviting me to the game.

After my talk with Marina, I’d wanted to reach out to him immediately, but if I’d learned nothing else from our talk, I knew I had some serious self-improvements to make.

So around my filming schedule, I’d found a new manager who came highly recommended, and her first point of business was putting me in touch with the police to add my own report about Denny Hayes.

I’d also asked Marina for the number of a therapist. As easy as it would have been to keep putting my baggage on Marina, it wasn’t fair or healthy for our friendship to blur those lines. I had my first appointment with a psychologist who specialized in family trauma after the holidays.

I hadn’t directly done anything about my parents yet, but planned on having a conversation in person when I flew down in a couple of weeks. My main goal for the visit was something that terrified me more than anything else on my list.

Asking Blair for forgiveness.

The game started off well, with the Engines winning the coin toss and opting to receive the ball.

I cheered along with everyone else as Weston, Christian, and the rest of the offense took the field.

Christian caught the snap and passed the ball through to the running back, who managed to break through the defensive line and run the ball ten yards before one of the Greenville Generals’ defensive players brought him to the ground.

They set up for their second play, and just before he settled into position, Weston turned around and pointed directly at us.

“He’s playing for you,” Ridley murmured, her excited energy bubbling out of her in waves.

This time, as Christian took the snap, the running back bolted right, acting as decoy as Christian dumped the ball off to Weston. He caught the pass and broke through the defensive line.

“Oh my god! Yes!” I screamed, jumping to my feet along with half the stadium as Weston outpaced the opposition.

For a minute, I thought he would run all the way and score a touchdown himself, but as the Generals players closed in, he tossed the ball back to a wide receiver.

Weston disappeared under a mountain of players as his team mate took off down the field and slammed the ball into the ground as he crossed the end zone.

The celebration was deafening as Engines fans screamed their approval.

It had been difficult for everyone to watch our offense struggle in the last couple of games.

I grinned at my friends, expecting to see the same excitement on their faces.

“What?” I asked, noting their silence.

Cami’s face was pale, and as I looked back at the field, I noticed a strange hush taking over the stadium.

The entire offensive line had huddled around something on the field, and as I craned to see what everyone else had, my stomach dropped as I realized they were standing around the position I’d last seen Weston.

“No.” I climbed onto my chair, trying to get high enough to see. Surely he was amongst the players standing around. He was fine. I just had to find him.

Medical staff ran onto the field carrying a stretcher, and my gut churned as I caught sight of long strands of blond hair along the ground in between the players' boots.

“Weston!” Ridley and Cami caught me as I lurched forward, forgetting I was on a chair. I sagged to the floor between them as the players continued to mill around.

After what felt like a lifetime, Weston got to his feet, supported on both sides by his team mates as he cradled his arm close to his chest.

“He’s injured his shoulder again,” Cami muttered, her voice thick with empathy.

“Let’s have a round of applause for number eighty-two, Weston Naylor, folks!” the announcer called as Weston stumbled toward the edge of the field.

The clapping was deafening as I sank into my chair, unsure whether I should go to him or wait here.

“We’ll meet them at the hospital. Come on.” Cami ushered me out of the suite and didn’t let go of my arm until we’d reached her car in the parking lot. “You think you’re alright to stand?” she asked, easing her hand away like she expected to have to catch me.

“I’m fine. Just worried about him. Let’s go.”

The drive to the hospital passed in an overwhelming flood of worry with Cami repeatedly assuring me we would stay until we were sure he was alright. Even if it meant camping out in the hospital all night.

“Marina is taking the girls home and promised to send Ridley in with supplies,” she assured me as we navigated the sterile corridors of the hospital.

The only bright side so far had been a nurse who recognized me as Weston’s girlfriend and pointed us in the right direction.

Turned out fame could sometimes come in handy.

After a few more turns, we arrived in a waiting room where we were told we couldn’t go any further until we had advice from his attending physician. The nurse invited us to take a seat while we waited, but refused to give us any information about Weston.

“We just want to know if he’s all right,” I insisted, struggling to contain my anxiety as visions of medical complications turned my stomach. What if he went into surgery and never came out?

“Gia, sit down. Coach Laudner will be able to find out what’s happening when he arrives,” Cami said, stretching out in one of the plastic chairs lining the wall. I let out an unimpressed humph, but settled in next to her to wait.

“Gia, wake up. He’s asking for you.”

I jolted awake, wincing as pain shot through my neck from the awkward position I’d fallen asleep in.

“Weston?”

“He’s out of surgery and asking to see you. Will you go in?” The dark smudges under Cami’s eyes spoke of the hours we’d waited for news of Weston’s condition. The waiting room we sat in was filled with the huge bodies of the entire Chicago Engines team spread out over every available surface.

I pushed out of my seat and picked my way through the bodies to where a woman in a white coat stood in the doorway.

“He’s in room five, at the end of the hall on the right. He’s still a little drowsy, so be patient with him.”

I nodded at her and tried to keep myself to a walk as I approached his room.

The astringent scent of antiseptic burned my nostrils as I stepped into Weston’s room.

The steady beeping of a heart rate monitor was both comforting and unsettling.

In the center of the room, Weston lay shirtless beneath the sheets, his shoulder wrapped in layers of bandages.

My heart skipped as tired hazel eyes flipped over to me.

“Hey you,” I said gently, moving over to the chair set up beside his bed.

“Hey yourself. I wasn’t sure you were here.”

“Where else would I be?”

He glanced away, but in that moment, a conversation from months ago came back to me. The scene was exactly what he had described last time, only we weren’t the people who he had described.

“I’m not her.”

“I know.”

But still, he wouldn’t meet my eye.

It was time for me to be brave and throw my cards on the table.

“I fucked up. Going home for Thanksgiving was a terrible idea in a whole line of terrible ideas I had over the course of that visit. You tried to be the voice of reason, and instead of listening to you, I treated you like the enemy. It wasn’t right, and I regretted it straight away, but I’m stupidly stubborn so it took some time, and friends I don’t deserve, to help me see it. ”

The ghost of a smile flickered over Weston’s beautifully serious face, but it was gone a moment later as he turned his head to look at me straight on.

“I’m not going to be able to play football again.”

My heart broke for him. After all the work he’d put in to get back on the field for this season, the end of his career had to be a bitter pill to swallow.

“I’m so sorry.”

He studied me closely, his eyes flicking over my face like he was searching for a specific reaction. I wasn’t sure what he hoped to find.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do next.”

“Maybe both of us can get a job at Dairy Queen,” I suggested, then snorted at the horrified look he gave me.

“Why would you be working there?”

I explained the case against Denny Hayes, and his eyes darkened with anger, despite me glossing over my own experience.

“I knew I didn’t like that guy.”

“No one does. And now we’re going to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else.”

He was quiet for a few more minutes, chewing over the new information, then he turned his hand over on the bed. I gripped it and smiled as he brought my fist to his mouth for a kiss.

“Whatever happens next, I’d like you to be with me to see it,” he said against my knuckles.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“You are the best lie I ever told, but I’m going to tell you something and I need you to hear it. This thing we share was never fake. You were mine from the moment I first saw you.”

Tears blurred my eyes as I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I want to be yours.”

The beeping of his monitor sped up as he tried to heave himself upright, letting out an annoyed grunt as his shoulder hampered his movement.

“All I want is to touch you right now, but I might have to put a pin in my plans until I have two working arms. Unless you want to lock that door and give me a show.” He bounced his eyebrows, and I laughed at his antics.

“I think your doctor is going to have to clear you for strenuous activity. But I promise, I’ll give you an IOU.”

He hummed as he cupped the back of my head, pulling my mouth to his. “I loved redeeming the last one.”

“I love you.”

Weboth froze at the admission. It was a truth I’d been holding for a while, but it felt too soon to say it. I had so much work left to do on myself to feel even halfway worthy of calling him my boyfriend.

“I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Georgie, you’re the most real person I’ve ever met. You’re fun, unpredictable, and more caring than you let anyone see. How could I not love you?”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I smoothed his hair back and pressed kisses all over his face until he caught my mouth in a scorching kiss.

“As soon as I’m out of this hospital bed, I want to talk to you about moving in with me. I hate the idea of you staying alone in that apartment building.”

“Focus on recovering and then we’ll talk about you letting a hurricane like me into your life on a more permanent basis.”

He huffed a laugh and settled back against his pillows.

“I can’t wait.”