Olivier (Chicago Blaze 9)

“A piece of stone from a building fell and hit him in the shoulder,” Ben says. “It caused him to fall down several stairs and hit his head.”

“Jesus Christ,” Anton says, noticing Giselle right after the words come out and saying, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, her voice sounding hoarse.

“What can we do?” Luca asks.

“We’re waiting to hear how he’s doing,” I say.

“Also, while we’re all here, Daphne is his fiancée,” Hassan says. “So they’ll let her in to be with him.”

“Yeah, he’d want that,” Luca says. “But seriously, is there anything we can do?”

Hassan shakes his head. “We just have to wait.”

Three more players from the Blaze come walking into the room. I only recognize one of them, Knox Deveraux.

“How the hell can they not tell us what’s going on?” Knox demands after someone explains what happened.

The nurse comes in then, followed by a man and a woman, one of which I’m hoping is Olivier’s doctor.

“I’m Shawna Hayes, one of the doctors treating Mr. Durand,” the woman says. “We need everyone who isn’t family to wait in the hallway, please.”

Everyone in the room looks around at each other, but no one gets up.

“Everyone here is family,” I say.

Shawna nods. “And you’re his fiancée?”

“Yes. Daphne Barrington.”

She nods, looking around the room again. Given that Ben and one of the Blaze players are Black, and Hassan appears to be Middle Eastern, I can tell she doesn’t believe me about everyone here being family. But sometimes family is about more than blood.

“Okay,” she says. “The good news is that Mr. Durand is stable. He has several serious contusions, and a broken shoulder, but all of those will heal. Our main concern is his head injury. We’ve placed him in an induced coma so his brain can rest and heal.”

“How long will he need to be in a coma?” I ask.

“That’ll depend on how he does.”

“Will he be okay?” Giselle asks. “Once he wakes up, will he be okay?”

“We’ll need to monitor his brain activity and be patient. These things take time,” Shawna says. “I wish we knew more right now, but we don’t.”

“When can we see him?” I ask.

“We’ll allow two family members into the room right now.”

Giselle looks at me and says, “Me and Daphne.”

Even though I’m worried sick about Olivier, I’m pleased that Giselle is embracing me as someone special to Olivier. I nod, and the doctor tells us we can go back now.

“Before you go,” Hassan says. “I’m sorry I have to bring this up right now, but I know Olivier would want it. We’re going to need security for him, Giselle and Daphne, and we’re going to need a spokesman to work with the media. I think the Durand Enterprises and Chicago Blaze PR departments should handle that part. And I’m asking that no one repeat anything at all about the details of his condition. We need to let the spokesman handle that.”

“Of course,” I say, taking Giselle’s hand as we leave the room. “We’ll come check in with you guys when we can.”

“Tell him we love him,” Anton says, his eyes meeting mine.

Emotion wells in my throat as I say, “I will.”

“Same goes for you two,” he continues. “Giselle and Daphne, you’re not alone in this. We’re with you, no matter what happens, okay?”

I nod, grateful. “Thank you.”

The way his players feel about him says a lot about who Olivier is. It makes me love him just a little bit more. Of all the people in the world the universe could have chosen to have this happen to, why him? Why a man who brings so much good into the world?

“He has to be okay,” Giselle says softly as we follow the doctor through the hallways. “He’s the only one who has always been there for me, no matter what.”

I squeeze her hand. “He’s strong. And he loves you more than anything.”

“I love him, too.”

“Here it is,” the doctor says, stopping in front of a room with glass doors, our view obscured by some curtains.

Giselle and I follow him into the room, and she sobs when she sees him.

His head is bandaged, half of his face cut and bruised, and his left arm is in a sling. It’s hard to see him this way, but I’m relieved to finally see him in person.

I rush to him and gingerly kiss his uninjured cheek.

“Hi,” I say, a tear sliding down my cheek. “I’m here, and Giselle is here.”

Giselle approaches him from the other side and says, “Hey, Dad. I love you.”

“If you wanted to get our attention, there are much less dramatic ways to do it,” I say, smiling. “You’re okay, Olivier. You just need to rest and get better.”

“Please get better, Dad,” Giselle says. “I, I really need you.”

The room is small, with just one chair set next to Olivier’s bedside. I pick itup and move it to where Giselle stands.