slowly starts to show more signs of life, dayshift nurses checking in, a cluster of doctors gathering around the nurses’ station to prep for morning rounds while E and B continue to bicker like an old married couple.
Arms stretched overhead with a yawn, Grayson makes his way back to the group, informing us that Kay is officially being moved to her private room. The puffy bags forming under his eyes and the barest lightening of the sky outside the windows drive home how late—or early—the hour is.
“Okay, listen.” Jordan motions for everyone to gather round. “Today is going to be a long one. We still have a brief window of time for ourselves, but after that, things are going to happen fast.” My earlier fatigue starts to creep back in, making my bones feel heavy as I think how right she is. “Why don’t you guys head home and grab a couple of hours of shut-eye?”
A communal negative sounds out, causing Jordan and nurse Vicki to share some kind of silent communication before the stern healthcare professional takes the reins.
“Look…it’s admirable how you all have hung around to support your friend, but there aren’t enough strings in the world for me to pull to let all of you stay.” She holds up a hand, cutting off the rebuttals sure to come her way. “Eight”—she pauses for emphasis—“eight can stay, and that’s pushing it. The rest of you can come back when visiting hours officially start at nine o’clock.”
For a group who was generally keeping its volume down out of respect for our surroundings, we sure fail now as people start jockeying for the right to be one of those allowed to stay.
The Royals were an easy sell, but getting Tessa to agree to leave with them took a Herculean effort on JT’s part. It was only Herkie needing someone to be there to feed him breakfast that convinced her.
I had a similar issue with the guys, especially Trav, but he was driving Quinn and Bailey back to campus. Plus, I need people to talk to Coach Knight about what actually happened before it gets spun out of control.
#Chapter9
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
What’s that beeping?
Ugh. God my head hurts.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Oh, wait…
I’m in the hospital. That’s good.
Whatever the doctors gave me earlier has helped take the pounding inside my skull down to a dull throb, but still…it doesn’t tickle.
“Babe, I need your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“You’re the league commissioner—you can go in and edit Kay’s lineup.”
“Why would I do that?”
My brain is still fuzzy and floaty. I’m not sure if the voices I’m hearing are in my head or real. I’m leaning toward real because two of them are male and my inner cheerleader is the only one I typically have speaking and, more often than not, shouting at me internally. Either way, they are pretty entertaining.
“Your husband is scared of his little sister.”
“And you’re just jealous she drafted Dennings from New England as quarterback over you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
“Babe…” There’s a sigh. “If you want the chance of us having a baby, you need to change the lineup. Otherwise Kay will have my balls.”
I try to open my eyes, but my lids feel like my eyeshadow was mixed with lead and they weigh a million pounds.
“Mase, take this seat.”
“I’m good with this.”
Familiarity slips under my palm and washes over me with a gentle squeeze. I will my muscles to return the gesture. Unable to manage such a simple task, I give myself over to the haze of my painkillers and fall back asleep.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when I come to again. My body feels like it’s been hit by a bus, and when I blink my eyes open, I have to squint against the light, grateful at least the one directly above me is turned off.
The earlier conversations have quieted, the only sound the faint strains of an old rerun of Friends on the television mounted on the wall.
My vision clears and the room comes into focus. The first thing I take note of is its size. I get the impression strings were pulled to arrange it, as well as the number of people sleeping scattered around it.
There’s a full-sized couch under a wide window where Bette is currently cuddled up with E, and B is knocked out next to them, his head resting on his arms folded over the armrest.
A small round-top table sits in the corner, a variety of hoodies and such serving as makeshift pillows for G, Em, and CK.
Soft snores bring