False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,48

him coddle me a bit. I would need those memories to last a lifetime.

***

CARSON WAS DRIVING me crazy. And I meant honest-to-God, wrap-me-up-in-a-straitjacket crazy. I took back everything I’d ever said or thought about him being irresponsible. He was taking his promise to the EMT to monitor my concussion way too seriously. I hadn’t gotten more than an hour of continuous sleep last night on account of him waking me up every hour on the hour. He’d refused to listen to me when I’d said I was fine. Now the end result was both of us being exhausted and snippy. Though if I told him he was being snippy, he would likely just become snippier.

He jingled his keys. “I’m going to the grocery store. Tell me what you want.”

“You have class,” I told him. “Or practice. Or something.” I couldn’t keep up with his schedule, but I knew he didn’t have an entire weekday free.

“I already emailed Coach Coyle and told him I was going to be out today.”

“What?” My voice had a screeching quality to it. “You can’t skip practice. You have a game this weekend.” I knew better than to bother protesting his skipping classes. His attendance had never been stellar anyway.

He tossed his keys in the air and caught them without looking then continued to repeat the process. “I have a Becca with a concussion.”

“You don’t have to babysit me.” I wasn’t ready to return to my apartment just yet, but I’d had enough of his coddling. I couldn’t believe I had wished for it last night. I should have known better.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s right. I don’t. I could call your dad and let him know your injuries are much more serious than originally reported. In fact, you’ve taken a turn for the worse. I bet he’d break some traffic laws getting here with your mom in tow.” Carson would do it too. He didn’t make idle threats.

I crossed my arms. “Now you’re just playing dirty.”

“I don’t play dirty. I play to win. Now tell me what you want to eat.”

I gave him a short list of things he could buy just so he would leave me alone. I realized that made me sound ungrateful, which I wasn’t. I appreciated everything Carson had done and was continuing to do for me. But if I’d wanted to be mother-henned, I would have called my mother.

While he was out, I used the time to text my friends and tell them what had happened. Even though I started every conversation with “I’m fine,” no one seemed to believe me. Lucy had actually offered to miss Hamilton and drive straight home. However, I could practically feel her relief from hundreds of miles away when I assured her that wasn’t necessary. Nicole was going to come by that afternoon to make sure I wasn’t underplaying my injuries. I was about to tell her not to bother, but I held off. If Carson had afternoon practice, I could talk him into going if Nicole would hang out with me while he was gone. It was bad enough that my life was being adversely affected by the asshole who’d broken into my apartment. I didn’t want all my friends to suffer as well.

When Carson got back, he made pancakes and sausage links, surprising the hell out of me because he wasn’t a fan of cooking. After we ate, we settled on the couch.

Taking a deep breath, he placed the remote in my hand and looked at me meaningfully, like he’d bequeathed me a crown jewel instead of a hunk of metal and plastic. “With great power comes great responsibility,” he said. “Please don’t make me suffer.”

“But I haven’t seen the latest season of Say Yes to the Dress.”

He gulped. “I… uh… I didn’t know you watched that.”

I pointed the remote at the TV and hit the power button, trying my best to keep a straight face. “I don’t. That’s why I haven’t seen it.”

He sighed with relief. “That’s not nice, Ziz.”

“But it was funny. See? My cognitive function isn’t impaired. You’re overreacting about the concussion. The EMT said it was mild.” But if this sucker was mild, I would hate to feel a full-blown concussion. I didn’t get hurt or sick often, so I wasn’t the best patient.

“Concussions are nothing to mess around with, mild or otherwise.” Carson was as serious as I’d ever heard him. Though as a football player, he probably knew more about concussions than I did.