False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,49

Still, this was a do as I say and not as I do moment.

I arched my uninjured brow, which was luckily the one I could raise by its lonesome. “Aren’t you the same one who tried to talk the coach into letting you play after a direct helmet-to-helmet hit?”

“That’s different. If I lose a few brain cells, then so what? I’m slightly dumber than I am now. No big loss. But your brain is too precious to risk.”

I looked past the compliment and zeroed in on the insult he’d paid himself. “You’re not dumb.”

“Debatable.”

I hated when he got down on himself, especially because he used a matter-of-fact tone, like he was reciting facts from an encyclopedia instead of spewing lies about himself. Carson had never been the most academically inclined, but that didn’t make him stupid. Still, it had to be hard to live in the shadows of a sister who was about to graduate with honors from Harvard Law.

Neither of my parents had gone to college, so academically speaking, I was the most successful person in my family. My parents didn’t care about that, though. They were simply proud that both my brother and I were productive members of society. Well, he was, at least, and I was well on my way.

My head was throbbing—not that I would admit that to Carson—so I didn’t try to reason with him. It had never worked before, and I doubted I would be successful when my thinking was fuzzy.

I opened Netflix and started scrolling through the options. “What do you want to watch? Gilmore Girls?”

He hesitated. “Sure.”

I laughed. “I’m just messing with you again. I know you don’t want to watch that.” Heck, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to watch it. I’d never seen it since I wasn’t a big TV watcher.

“But I would if you wanted to.”

I turned my attention back to the television. “I know.” It was times like these, when Carson was being more than sweet to me, that my resolve to get over him wavered. Because damn it, aside from turning into the Hulk whenever another guy talked to me, he was good to me, better than he should be for just a friend. And if we were together, then the Hulk thing wouldn’t be an issue. But I’d known Carson for half my life, and he’d never once shown any indication that I was more than a little sister to him. My college years were coming to a close, and other than a few random dates, I’d spent the entire time pining after Carson.

I would always love him, but maybe it was time I found someone who loved me back.

CHAPTER 12

Carson

I PROGRAMMED MY number into Nicole’s phone.

“You know that’s overkill, right?” Becca held up her own phone. “Your number is right here. In the unlikely event of an emergency, we can call with this.”

Ignoring Becca, I handed the phone back to her friend. “Call me if she seems disoriented, blacks out, or displays any sign the concussion is worse. And don’t let her talk you out of it.” I shot Becca what I hoped was a stern look. She been downplaying her concussion, but I could tell it was bothering her more than she was admitting.

Nicole looked up from the paper I’d printed out about concussion symptoms. “It says irritability is a symptom. In that case, I think she’s getting worse.”

Becca shot Nicole a dirty look. “Are you trying to give him a reason to skip practice?”

I’d already skipped the morning practice, so I really couldn’t afford to skip another if I expected to play this weekend. I would, though, if I needed to. I was more serious about football than I’d ever been with anything else in my life because it was the only thing I’d ever excelled at. But it paled in comparison to Becca.

I let my bag slip off my shoulder and fall to the floor. “That’s it. I’m staying. She’s definitely taken a turn for the worse.”

Becca got up off the couch, stomped around me, and flung open the front door. “You’re going,” she said through clenched teeth. Then she tried to push me out the door. It was cute, really, the way she was putting all her weight into it. Too bad she hadn’t moved me an inch. For as smart as she was, she still hadn’t learned she couldn’t push me around, literally or figuratively.

Laughing, I picked up my bag. “I’m going.” If I actually thought she was getting worse,