Page 13

CHAPTER 13

WHO’S THEO?

THEODORE

S eeing players injured is part of the job.

It’s something I’ve seen countless times. It’s something I’m used to.

But it’s never been Jax. And seeing him lying on the floor writhing in pain as he stares up at me, tears in his eyes, gripping onto his knee so hard his knuckles are white, just may be my undoing.

And despite how much it’s tearing me up on the inside, I know I have a job to do. I can’t let my complicated feelings for him… for whatever this is, cloud my ability to do this job. He deserves the best care I can give him. “Tell me what happened.”

He groans in pain. “I-I must have stepped wrong, and— ouch, fuck— and I felt something pop. The pain was instant.”

I look back at Coach Taylor, giving him the nod to go ahead and call an ambulance. I’m almost certain he’s torn at least one of the ligaments in his knee, and if that’s the case there’s not much I can do. But what I can do is provide him the emergent care he needs until he reaches the right people that can help him.

I look back at Clay, who currently looks like he may be having a panic attack. Staring off into the void, shallow breathing, all the signs are there. I give Coach Taylor a nod in Clay’s direction, letting him know that I’ve got Jax, and he needs to focus on Clay. The last thing I need is for Clay to hyperventilate and pass out.

Refocusing on Jax I ask, “Where’s Emerson at right now?”

“In class, don’t bother him with this; he’ll spiral.”

“Jax, we have to call someone.” The concern in my voice must be abundantly clear because when his brain registers what I was just implying I almost immediately see the panic set in. Grabbing his shoulder, I lean in and whisper, “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll call Emerson once we get you settled into the hospital.”

I try to do my best to continue to comfort him as we wait for the paramedics to arrive, and it kills me to know that there’s nothing I can do to ease his pain.

Finally, a few agonizing minutes later, the gym doors burst open, and the paramedics head toward us with a stretcher. Once they reach us, I fill them in before telling him, “I’m going to run and get your stuff out of the locker room.” His eyes widen, and his hand latches onto my arm. I soften my expression as best as I can. “I’ll be right back. They’re going to need your ID once you get to the hospital and your phone to call your parents.” He gives me a quick nod, and I spring off down the hallway leading to the locker rooms and my office.

By the time I’m back in the gym, they’re picking the stretcher up, wheeling him out, and I’m in step behind them. I should be staying and making sure no one else needs me today, but Clay’s panic was under control, and Coach said he was going to wrap things up and send the rest of the team home for the day. He looked at about max capacity for issues this week, and I can’t say I blame him one bit.

* * *

? * Several hours later, after several exams, X-rays, and an MRI, Jax’s doctor finally confirms what I knew to be true the moment I saw him.

“You have torn your ACL and have a severe sprain on your MCL,” the doctor blurts out while keeping his eyes on his tablet. As if this news didn’t just blow up Jax’s life as he knows it. I watch as Jax’s breath stills in his chest. And I give his shoulder a firm squeeze, reminding him that I’m here. Finally, the doctor looks up from his tablet at Jax. “I can do surgery tomorrow to repair the tears.”

Jax asks the doctor barely above a whisper, “H-how long until I can play again?”

“Nine to twelve months,” the doctor says matter-of-factly. “I’ll give you a few minutes to process the news and will be back in a little bit to explain everything, okay?”

I feel his shoulder sag under my hand, and I wait for a minute until the doctor heads out the door. “I know you’ll make a full recovery, Jax. That man you were talking to is one of the best in the state. He’ll get everything put back together, and you’ll be as good as new.”

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls his phone out and turns the screen so I’m able to read what it says.

Thirteen missed calls from his mom. Ten from his dad and just as many texts.

He clicks on a text from his mom that reads:

Mom

Emerson said you got hurt and you’re at the hospital?! Jackson, call me please or I’m getting on the first plane out there!

“To say my parents are overprotective and overbearing would be the understatement of the century. Especially my mom. She’s a helicopter mom, to put it lightly. Not that I blame her, considering she had four boys.” He smiles and adds, “I wouldn’t trade her for the world, though. Be prepared for a video call after I send this text, though.”

Me

Do not come out here mom.

Not even three seconds after sending the text, his phone lights up with a video call from his mom. Jax slides his finger across to accept it, and she’s spouting off questions before it’s fully even connected. “—his knee. Oh, baby,” she gasps as she puts her hand to her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay, Mom.”

“Tell me what happened.” She’s holding back tears, and at this point, I think Jax is, too. I can only imagine how hard it must be to not have his parents here to support him.

Jax sighs and, with an almost detached tone, explains what happened. “I was going up for a hit, and as my foot was about to leave the ground, I heard a pop, and I was on the ground before I knew it.”

The tears are rolling down her cheeks now. “I’m booking a flight right now. We’re in the middle of a winter storm, though, so it could be a couple of days before I can get a flight out of here.” She looks past the phone at, who I’m assuming is Jackson’s dad. “Dawson, go get my suitcase.” Her eyes refocus on the screen. “Is Emerson at least there with you?”

“Do not book a flight, Mom. And no, Theo called him for me on the way here. He’s got an exam and practice this afternoon so I told him to just come to the hospital when he was done.”

“Who’s Theo?”

“Theo is our new athletic trainer.” The way he says it feels like a punch to the gut. Athletic trainer. What I wouldn’t give to be something more than that right now. To be able to hold and comfort him. To make sure he’s okay. To be there to nurse him back to health.

But I can’t. Not now. Not ever.

“Oh, I remember him! The one that Emerson and Dom helped move into the house across the street. Emerson said you thought he was cu?—”

“Theo’s right here, Mom. Can we not?”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Hi, Mrs. Baker, it’s very nice to meet you.” I wave to her as Jax puts me on screen.

I watch this adorable woman blush through the screen. “Enough with the Mrs. Baker. You’ll call me Catherine.”

“They’re planning on doing surgery tomorrow. Emerson can pick me up after my surgery and get me home. I’ll be fine. And before you ask again, please don’t come down here.”

It takes everything in me not to offer to stay here and to take him home after surgery tomorrow, but again, that would be overstepping all kinds of boundaries.

As if we haven’t crossed enough already.

“Like I said, it might not be tomorrow when I get there, but it will be sometime this week.” Jackson sighs, obviously resigning to the fact that this is a losing battle, and Catherine continues, “I have to make sure you’re okay and that you have some meals made up. Lord knows we can’t rely on Emerson to make food for you.”

“He is a dangerously bad cook, isn’t he?” He’s laughing, and that sound alone is enough to ease some of the weight on my shoulders.

“Yeah, he is… Okay, I’m going to try to rest for a little bit.”

“I love you. Call me before your surgery in the morning.”

“Love you too, Momma.” Jackson hangs up and looks over at me, a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment covering his face.

The corners of my lips turn up. “She seems sweet.”

“She is,” he answers as the two of us stare at one another.

“Mom’s coming out isn’t she?” Emerson’s voice cuts through the silence. We turn to look at him and find him leaning against the door frame.

I remove my hand from Jax’s shoulder and slide my glasses back up my nose. “Let me know if you need anything.” I look at Jax, and the hurt on his face is obvious enough you could see it from a mile away.

He nods, and I leave it at that, forcing my feet to carry me out of Jax’s orbit.

* * *

Emerson’s car pulls up in their driveway at the exact time he said they would be here, and I’m out my door and across the street before Emerson can even get to the passenger side of the car.

He had called asking for help to get him into the house, and of course, I couldn’t say no.

I open the passenger door to find a very high Jackson. “I’m one lucky bastard. Is the hot neighbor here to get me from the car? Emmy, did you do this for meeeee?”

“Ignore him; he’s on pain meds.” Emerson chuckles as he instructs Jax on what to do. “Come on, we’ve gotta get you inside.” He grunts while pulling Jax’s bad leg out of the car while I put my arms out to pull him up to stand.

Emerson and I get under each of his arms and hobble him inside. After way too much fussing and fighting, we finally get to the living room. Jax leans in and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t how I wanted you carrying me for the first time.”

“Shh, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

His hand that’s slung over my shoulder grabs the bottom of my neck and runs up into the hair on the nape of my neck, and he gives it a gentle pull. “But I do know what I’m saying…”

I can see the couch, and I’m hoping to god he stays quiet until Emerson is at least out of earshot. He’s behaved as we get him on the couch with his leg propped up under a couple of pillows.

Emerson heads out of the house to grab the rest of his things from the car. Not even seconds after Emerson leaves Jax says, “Get your cock out again.”

I hiss, “Jax! Please, for the love of god, stop. I came to help get you in here and make sure you were okay. You can’t be saying stuff like that.” I hate shutting him down, but it wouldn’t take anything for Emerson to overhear what he’s saying. I’m sure I could blame it on the drug-induced haze he’s in, but still.

“You just had to wear the gray joggers, didn’t you, Mr. Young?” The smirk on his face has my hand covering my mouth to suppress my groan.

Before he can say anything else, I stand up straight and take a step back from the couch, creating some much needed distance. “I’m going to head out. You rest and listen to your brother.”

I leave Jax, with his leg propped up, and a list of instructions for Emerson to follow. And with one last lingering look at him already asleep on the couch, I walk out his front door and back across the street.

Alone.

Again.

* ? STRAY - jxdn