Just Like This (Albin Academy #2) - Cole McCade Page 0,87

she looked down at him with a firm, no-nonsense stare.

“You absolutely can stay here,” she said, in cool tones that would brook no opposition. “And you will. Whatever you might miss can wait. Nothing is more important than your health. Now settle down, eat, and let your teachers talk to you before I run them out of here for using up your energy again.”

Chris slowly, reluctantly sank back onto the bed, distress written into his face as if it had been printed and stamped there in indelible ink. Rian cast Damon a helpless glance, only to find Damon looking right back at him, his eyes dark with concern.

What had that been about?

Why was Chris so desperate to escape?

“Hey,” Damon said, looking away from Rian and stepping closer to Chris’s bedside. “What’re you so worried about missing? I’ve got you down on sick leave from the team, so it’s not going to add up to your absences. Your scholarship’s safe.”

Chris flinched visibly at the word scholarship, but lowered his eyes and pulled the wrapped cafeteria sandwich closer, plucking at the edges of the cling film covering it. “Nothing. I... I was just worried about practice; I didn’t know you’d—I—thanks, Coach Louis.”

While Rian watched Chris and Damon, Nurse Hadley pulled away from the bed, pausing next to Rian and touching his arm; she leaned in, dropping her voice low. “He’s more stable,” she murmured. “Probably be fine in a week or so. But please try not to upset him.” Quieter still—barely a whisper, as she glanced over her shoulder at Chris. “And please try to get him to talk, or we’ll be seeing him in here again and again. Call it a hunch. He won’t talk to me, but I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

Rian brushed his fingers to the backs of her knuckles with a nod. “We’ll try,” he promised. “We will.”

With one more significant look, she slipped away, ducking past the curtain walling off Chris’s bed from a few other empty ones and the exam area, making herself quite pointedly busy organizing shelves that didn’t seem to need organizing. Rian watched her for a few moments more, then stepped closer to the bed, folding his arms against the railing on the footboard and leaning against them.

“Hey,” Chris said, green eyes shifting to Rian with a touch of pleading, even though he tried to smile again. “Don’t look at me like that, Mr. Falwell.”

Rian quirked his lips. “Like what?”

“Like...like you’re disappointed in me.” Chris ducked his head, playing at that bit of cling wrap until it started to ball up, before he peeled it back from his sandwich and toyed with the corner of it until the dark brown crust of the wheat bread began to crumble. “Like I’ve just...you know...let you down so much, and I just... I’m...”

His mouth knotted, his eyes screwing up, his voice wavering. Rian leaned over quickly, curling his hand against Chris’s ankle through the sheets.

“Hey,” he said, putting as much conviction as he could into his voice, trying to hold and keep Chris’s gaze, searching. “I am not disappointed in you. Not at all. I just want to make sure you’re all right. That’s why I’m here, Chris. Because I care about you. I’m not upset with you, and you’re not in trouble, and you are most certainly no one’s disappointment.”

With an upset sound, Chris looked between Rian and Damon. “But... I’m missing practice, and I still haven’t finished my class project, and now I’m going to miss class...”

“And none of that matters,” Damon said. His gaze fixed on Chris firmly, words soothing and warm and full of such utter conviction, such reassuring calm. “You matter. You matter more than football practice or homework, or anything like that. We care about your future, yeah, and that means caring about your education. But you come first. Once you’re okay and safe, then we can give a fuck about your grades.”

Chris sucked in a breath; his voice dropped small. “... I thought you said we were only allowed to say that on the field and never inside school halls.”

Damon grinned, wide and fierce, white teeth stark against brown skin. “I made the rule, I get to break it.”

With a shaky laugh, Chris finally left off plucking at his sandwich, though he made no move to pick it up and eat it. “That’s not fair.”

“Well, when you’re the teacher, you can make those kinds of rules,” Damon teased, as he settled to sit on the edge