Ruin (Ruin 1)

I just wanted to lie down with a cold compress against my head — well, I wanted that and to hold Kiersten, but I knew if she saw me like this she would know what was wrong. We had a Homecoming party to go to tonight — I wasn’t sure I would make it.

I took another few sips of water and closed my eyes, hoping the rest would make it better.

Another few minutes went by and Coach came up beside me and slapped me on the shoulder. “You want to do one last play?”

I knew what he was asking.

One last play before my bleak future went black. His guess was as good as mine as to if I’d live to see a football again. Black spots or no black spots, I needed to do this.

I stood on shaky legs and made my way out onto the field amidst the screams from the fans. Damn, I’d miss it. I’d miss the feel of running out onto the field, the buzz of excitement.

With a sigh I turned and saw Kiersten on her feet yelling. I blinked, my vision returned just enough for me to see her waving frantically. Her shirt had a heart on it. Hell, she had no idea the encouragement that gave me, but Gabe did. I blew her a kiss then nodded my head to him.

I could have sworn he yelled, ”Give ’em hell!”

Laughing, I shakily made my way to the huddle. We’d already won, so now it was time to show off. I called a fake play in order to get the other team offsides and decided to do the exact same trick play Boise State had done in the Fiesta bowl a few years back.

As I suspected, the

team fell for it, gaining us five yards. My heart thundered in my chest. Everything felt heavy, as if someone had put a piano on top of me. I took a few deep breaths and called the play.

“Baby blue, baby blue, BSU, hut!” When I fell back, I stumbled, tripped or something. I wasn’t really sure, but that pause was enough for me to see a lineman heading straight for me. I was too late. My vision blurred then went completely black as I felt myself falling backward against the ground.

The last thing I remembered was thinking I never told her I loved her, and that sucked, because she needed to know — I would die, was probably dying, and the last thought in my mind, the last word that blew across my lips was “Kiersten.”

Chapter Forty

Can a person’s heart shatter in their chest? Because I think mine just did…

Kiersten

“Something’s wrong.” Gabe clenched my hand in his and watched as Wes stumbled out onto the field. He ran like he was drunk, maybe he was just trying to show off and be funny.

I shrugged. “He wouldn’t go out there if something was wrong.”

Gabe snorted. “Then you don’t know how guys work.” He waved his hands above his head trying to gain the coach’s attention. “Shit!” He pushed me toward the chairs and jumped onto the field running to the coach. I was still trying to figure out what the hell his problem was when I saw it.

The ball fell from Wes’s hands. He wavered on his feet and collapsed onto the field.

I could have sworn the entire stadium fell into silence as I screamed. Lisa held me in her arms while frantically looking at Gabe who was cussing out the coach.

The coach ran toward the field, players looked at each other in confusion. And I knew in that moment that Wes had lied.

It wasn’t diabetes.

It couldn’t be.

Something was wrong and he hadn’t told me. Nobody just passed out on the field like that. He was strong, wasn’t he? He was healthy, right?

I held my breath as doctors rushed onto the field. I prayed. I prayed hard that Wes would move, that I would see his fingers drum onto the grass or that he would jump into the air and start laughing like it was some giant joke. I didn’t realize I was crying until Lisa handed me a tissue from her purse.

“He’s okay, right?” I asked in a hoarse voice. “Right? He’s just tired? Or dehydrated?”

“Sure.” Lisa gripped my hand in hers.

The sound of an ambulance almost killed me.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just stand there and wait. I ran. I ran as fast as I could and jumped over the barrier so I was on the field with Gabe. He intercepted me in his arms as I ran for Wes. And then another set of arms braced me.