Page 67 of The Surprise Play (Nolan U Football #3)

Wily shakes his head, and I want to question his decision. He doesn’t have to be in agony.

“Okay, well, just press the buzzer if you change your mind. The nurses will continue with their regular rounds, although please be aware, the staff is under enormous pressure right now. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.”

Wily nods, and I watch the doctor clip away, his steps hurried.

Turning back, I check Wily’s expression. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back against the pillows. I’ve never seen him so pale. So sad.

This is horrible. Devastating.

“Are you okay?” Coach Jones asks.

I assume he’s talking to Wily, but when I glance up, his eyes are trained on me. I flush, my head bobbing. “Yes. I’m going to stay here.”

He didn’t ask me that, but I tell him anyway so there’s no confusion. I’m not leaving Wily, no matter what.

Coach Jones nods, giving Wily one more pained frown before softly murmuring, “I’m gonna go make some calls.

But if you need anything…” He digs a bu siness card out of his jacket pocket.

“You let me know, and I’ll come right back, okay?

I’ve already been in touch with his parents. They’re on their way.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, my fingers trembling as I take the card off him.

He walks away and I run my hand down Wily’s arm, curling my fingers around his listless hand and silently begging him to look at me.

But he won’t open his eyes.

My phone buzzes, and I enter into a lengthy text conversation with Sienna, and then I have one with Nylah, who’s worried as well.

Nylah: Carson won’t stop pacing. He’s so stressed!

I try to send reassuring messages while my insides are in utter chaos.

Poor Wily.

I check his face again. His eyes are still closed, and I wonder if he’s sleeping. That’s good. He needs a reprieve from this nightmare.

I’m so gutted for him and worried that I won’t know how to help him through this. I’m desperate to make it all better. Desperate for this setback not to kill his soul.

His dream has just been squashed.

But hopefully not shattered.

I have to remind him that this isn’t over. It’s just delayed.

From the stuff I’ve googled, this doesn’t need to end his career. He may not get drafted this year… or he may ju st get drafted lower down on the list. I think that’s how drafting works.

Whatever. He might still get picked up by a pro team.

And if he doesn’t, I’m sure there are still other options.

He can come back from this injury. If anyone’s strong enough, it’s my coyote.

Although… I seriously have to make sure that he knows he is something without football. He’s everything. He’s so incredibly amazing, and football is lucky to have him , not the other way around.

A bustling and a rush of voices behind the curtain have me glancing up from my phone.

Two worried-looking people walk in, and I immediately know who they are.

Wily’s parents.

I haven’t met them yet, but it’s so obvious. He looks just like his father but has his mother’s coloring.

She’s a blue-eyed blonde, stunningly beautiful and slender. His father is shorter than Wily but just as imposing, a broad man with a square face and strong jaw.

He doesn’t even notice me as I move away from the side of the bed, my skin starting to itch as I fight the urge to step behind the curtain so they can’t see me.

“Wily.” His mom’s voice trembles as she approaches the bed. “My darling boy.” Her fingers skim over his leg, stopping just above the knee. “This is terrible.”

Wily’s eyes are open now, and he’s gazing at his parents. He suddenly looks small and incredibly vulnerable. I see flashes of a little boy on the verge of being told off, and confusion tightens my stomach .

“Well, this is…” His dad shakes his head, his expression buckling. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Dad…” Wily tries to talk, but his voice quakes and disappears.

“Why aren’t you in surgery yet?” Mr. Wilson barks.

“David,” Wily’s mom softly warns. “Coach already gave us the update. You know why.”

He runs a hand through his hair, so obviously stressed. “Maybe we should be transferring him to a different hospital.”

My chest hitches. No! I need him to stay here so I can be close by. They can’t just take off with him!

It’s not about you. It’s about what’s best for Wily!

I swallow my protests as Mr. Wilson’s phone starts ringing. He snatches it out of his pocket and checks the screen.

“Austin,” he murmurs to his wife before taking the call.

“Hey, buddy… Yeah, I’m with him now.” His eyes dart to his son, and he looks agonized.

“Not great. There’s been a delay on his surgery…

” He winces but then starts nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not over. We just need to figure out a new game plan…

” He nods again. “Do you want to speak to him?”

Wily shakes his head, holding up his hand and refusing the phone when Mr. Wilson holds it out to him.

“Come on, son.”

“No.” Wily’s voice is weak, but the expression on his face leaves no room for argument.

After a short sigh, Mr. Wilson wraps up the conversation, promising to call back with updates and their next move forward .

I wonder who he was talking to. Mrs. Wilson seems unfazed by the call. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Wily since she stepped in here. She’s now stroking his arm and looking just as devastated as his father.

Maybe that man was Wily’s agent. I’m sure he’d have something to say about all this.

Wily told me the guy is really close to his father.

I hold my breath, watching Mr. Wilson as he starts talking. His voice is deep, more serious, gruffer than Wily’s, and I can’t help another instinctual step back.

“It’ll be all right, son. We’ve still got options.

You won’t be a Top Ten pick for the draft anymore.

Austin’s guess is that you’ve dropped down to around the forty to fifty mark.

” He sighs, resting his hands on the bar at the end of hospital bed.

“Team’s still take on injured athletes if they’ve shown great potential, which you most definitely have.

This isn’t the end of the world, although you’re worth more than a shitty contract.

” Mr. Wilson shakes his head, his mind clearly racing as he tries to problem-solve his way out of this disaster.

“Let’s not entertain the free agent option until we know for sure what your recovery time is going to be.

” Pinging straight, he starts looking around, and I shift to hide myself behind Mrs. Wilson.

“Is there a doctor around anywhere? I need to speak with one. If we can get a time frame, we’ll be able to sort out a plan moving forward. ”

With a delicate sniff, Mrs. Wilson ignores her husband, brushing her hand over Wily’s cheek, her disappointment raw and overpowering.

Wily shakes his head, still not able to say anything, and I want to tell them all that it’s going to be okay .

Why are they bombarding him with stupid game plans?

Why aren’t they telling him they love him?

Why aren’t they hugging him? Supporting him?

“When did you see the doctor?” his father asks.

Wily replies in a croaky voice, telling him what he knows, which doesn’t feel like much, to be honest.

There’s so much worry swirling around them, like this torn ACL is the most devastating thing that could happen to their son. But I want to shout that he’s still alive! That it’s a knee injury, not cancer!

“It’s going to be okay.” Mr. Wilson nods, still running a hand over the back of his head like he’s trying to comfort himself.

Stress is emanating from him in waves. It’s impossible not to feel it.

“I’ll get in touch with the Scouting Combine people.

Explain the situation. We’ll find a way around this. ”

“It’s not gonna happen this year, Dad.” Wily’s voice is cold. Stony.

“No, don’t talk like that. We’ll get you back on your feet. I’m gonna get you the best medical care. We’ll talk to any experts we have to. There are options. Austin’s already told me about a private training camp we can get you into. It means?—”

“Dad, just…” Wily raises his hand to slow the guy down.

“This can’t be over, son.” His father’s voice cracks. “You’ve worked too hard. I won’t let you give up on your dream.”

Wily sighs, shaking his head.

Wow. He really thinks he’s done. Is that just shock talking? Where’s my “I can conquer the world” man gone ?

I step forward, ready to reach for his hand and assure him that he’s not even close to being done. We can work through this. He’s got his whole life ahead of him, and I’ll help him become whatever he wants to be.

“Excuse me,” his mother snaps when she senses my movements. Her blue eyes land on mine, surprise quickly morphing to sharp annoyance. “This is a private family matter. Who are you?”

“Oh, I…” Forcing a smile, I reach out a hand to introduce myself. “I’m Elizabeth. I’m Wily’s?—”

“Tutor,” he interjects. “This is the girl who’s been helping me. She’s the reason I’ll be able to graduate.”

I glance at him, but he won’t look at me. His jaw clenches, and he keeps his eyes trained on his knee.

Wow. Okay.

So, he’s in love with me, but his parents don’t know I exist, and he’s calling me his tutor, not his girlfriend.

Ouch.

No, more than ouch.

This is brutal.

It hurts.

Like deep in my gut, I’m writhing in pain right now.

Trying to keep my expression neutral is so freaking hard, but I’m not about to start crying in front of these people.

Why isn’t Wily claiming me?

Why—?

“Okay.” His mother nods, still looking confused. “And why are you here?”

It’s hard to talk past the lump in my throat.

My chest is tight, and it’s taking everything in me to keep my voice even as I carry on this lie for my boyfriend .

Wait. Is he still my boyfriend or…?

My stomach clenches and I have to clear my throat, my voice coming out soft and raspy.

“I just wanted to stop by and let him know that I’m going to speak to each of his professors and tell them about the injury.

” I have to clear my throat again before I can continue.

“I’ll let them know that I’ll still be helping him so he can get the credits he needs to graduate. ”

His father frowns at me. “I hardly think that’s important right now. In fact, it’s probably best that you run along and let Wily focus on healing his body. The last thing he needs to be worrying about is school and graduation.”

I nod, inching away from the bed.

My resolve to stay by Wily’s side no matter what has completely vanished, snatched away by his parents’ forceful voices… and the fact that Wily just called me his tutor and nothing more.

Flipping my coat over my arm, I lift my bag off the floor and murmur, “Bye, Wily.”

“See ya, Satch,” he croaks.

Just before disappearing behind the curtain, I glance over my shoulder and catch his eye. He looks about ready to cry all over again, and my heart starts burning as I walk out of the emergency treatment room and try to figure out what the hell just happened.