Page 129 of Playing Dirty

That’s the last thing I see before the world goes black.

Thirty-Two

Madden

The sound of slow, steady beeps pulls me from sleep, and the second I open my eyes, a sharp pain slices through my head. Almost like someone is taking a butcher knife and driving it clean into my temple, and it’s enough to have me jerking my arm up to stop it.

The beeping isn’t helping matters either, and I have to push through the disorientation to focus on where I am. Though, paired with the stark-white walls I caught a glimpse of before slamming my eyes closed, I think I’m in a hospital.

How long have I been out?

Gingerly, I shift my weight to sit up, but a hand lands on my arm to stop me.

“Sweetheart, don’t move.”

“Mom? What…?” I blink my eyes open again, my hazy vision slowly starting to clear as I look at her. “What are you doing here?”

My eyes sink closed again, a wave of nausea slamming into me as I try to make sense of what’s going on. Because she should be in St. Louis right now. At work, right? So why is she—

It all comes rushing back, hitting me at a hundred miles an hour like a freight train.

Like a fuckingcar wreck.

The pennant, the fight, the words that finally found their way into existence. The truck running the red light and slamming into the passenger side of Theo’s car.

Theo.

My eyes shoot open, and I sit up despite the glaring pain in my head and muscles. But I ignore all signs of discomfort and pain and ask, “Where’s Theo?”

Mom frowns, two lines forming between her dark, manicured brows. “He’s been admitted too. But, Madden—”

I don’t give her the chance to finish; I’m already shoving out of my hospital bed, needing to get to him. To see for myself that he’s okay.

The ground is unsteady beneath my feet, and my stomach roils as it threatens to dispel its contents. There’s a tug inside my elbow before I realize I’m hooked to an IV line. I hear my mother call my name—pleading with me to get back into bed—as I rip it out of my skin, uncaring of the blood dripping down my arm after.

A few wobbled strides later and I’m at the door, ready to bolt in whatever direction Theo is in. I don’t give a flying fuck that I’m in one of those godforsaken hospital gowns either, but then I realize I have no ideawherehe is. Glancing over my shoulder, I find her watching me with concern that I don’t have the time for. Not until I see him and know he’sokay too.

“What room?”

Her eyes soften, and she shakes her head. “Sweetheart—”

“Whatroom,Mom?” I snap, my voice tinged with fear and frustration.

I wince at the sharpness in my tone after the words leave my lips. I’ve never spoken to her like that before, and from the way she sits up straighter and blinks, she must be as taken aback by it as I am.

“Three-eighteen,” she says softly as her brows knit in concern. “But, Madden, he’s probably still unconscious from the anesthesia.”

My intentions come grinding to a halt, my palm still wrapped around the door handle, as I process her words. Because anesthesia means he was put under for surgery. And if he needed surgery…

Fuck.

All of the worst possible scenarios enter my mind at one time, and I grip the door handle tighter as I try not to drown in the worry caused by the unknown. My chest tightens, constricting my lungs and stealing my breath, and no amount of shoving them away works for long.

Resting my forehead against the cool metal door, I ask the only question that comes to mind, all the while being terrified of the answer.

“How bad is it?”

There’s silence before her hand comes to rest on my back. “You should really sit down—”