Page 129 of Family Bonds- Emma & Warren

The next time he opened his eyes, he heard whispering.

“Hey,” his mother said. “You’re scaring me. I just need to hear your voice.”

“Mom,” he said. “What time is it?”

“It’s six,” his mother said. “You’ve been in and out for a few hours. Do you remember?”

“No,” he said. “I’m hungry though.”

“That’s good,” his mother said. “They are going to transfer you to another floor and room. We were told we can stay if we are quiet and let you sleep.”

He turned his head. “Where is Emma?”

“She went to the bathroom,” Stephanie said. “Warren, I can’t do this again.”

“Not now, Stephanie,” his mother said.

He was focusing his eyes more. “I don’t need a lecture. There will be enough time for that later. What did the doctor say? You’d remember it better.”

“He said you’ve got a grade three concussion. You’re going to be out for a few weeks to recover. That means not even practicing or showing up at the stadium. Your brain needs to heal, Warren. Football can wait.”

“Yeah,” he said. He never thought he’d give in so easily, but he’d been terrified after his last concussion, which wasn’t nearly as bad as this.

All that research he’d done made its way back into his mind where he wished he had his defensive line to tackle it and take it away.

“Is he awake again?” Emma asked, walking into the room.

“I am,” he said. “Come here.”

She moved closer to him, but stayed by his mother’s side. His mother inched out of the way to let Emma in to sit on the bed where he was patting it.

“You look a little more alert,” she said.

“I think I’m just refreshed. And hungry.”

“Do you remember Coach coming in to see you?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Did I talk to him?”

“You did, but not much. He brought your clothes, but I don’t think they are going to be comfortable and you don’t want a gown. I can get you some pajama pants and a T-shirt from the gift shop.”

“Thanks,” he said. “That works.”

“I’ll do it,” his mother said. “Stephanie, come with me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said when his family left the room.

“What are you sorry about?” she asked.

“Scaring you. Making you leave the island. I know you’ve got work to do.”

“Warren,” she said. “Don’t make me raise my voice and get pissed at you.”

“I hate this for you,” he said.

“Shhhhh. Don’t,” she said, lightly running her finger down his jaw, then pulling it away as if he’d break. “You’re the one going through it. I hate it for you.”

He snorted. “It sucks. I just wish my mind had been on the game more.”