Imaginary Lines (New York Leopards 3)

The next two hours were the worst of my life. I talked to Sharon in calm, reassuring tones, and my mother too, because I was sure they were bound to compare notes, but that was the only thing calm about me.

When they finally let me in to see him, I almost burst into tears just at the relief of seeing him alive. He smiled at me from the bed, as though he should be the one comforting me. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

I sat down in the plastic visitor’s chair and took his hand, very carefully, not wanting to jostle him. “You have a concussion.”

He attempted a lighthearted tone. “So what happened? Did we win?”

That was too much. My throat closed up and I had to look away so I didn’t cry. With my face hidden, I squeezed my eyes very tightly and swallowed back tears, and then took a deep breath, smoothed myself out and looked back at him. “I don’t know.”

“Will you check? I don’t have my phone.”

I nodded and looked it up. “Yes,” I said, and my voice cracked. “21-17.”

He let out a deep sigh of relief. “Good.”

The door opened behind me, and Ryan swept into the room, followed by Rachael. He sat down on the other side of the bed, and scanned Abe. “How is it?”

Abe approximated a shrug. “No big deal. Tamar tells me we won.”

Ryan let out a smile and some of the tense worry seemed to seep out of him. “Yeah.” He detailed the rest of the game. “What do you think? Will you be back for the next one?”

“Yeah, as soon as they let me out.”

They joked back and forth, and hearing how steady he sounded, my terror was finally able to drain away. For a minute it left me exhausted and empty, but then another emotion came to the forefront, slowly uncurling from deep inside.

Fury.

It curdled in my stomach like the conception of a storm. This wasn’t acceptable. No one should get repeatedly injured, no matter their career. No one should deal with concussions and bad pile-ups and nasty locker-room aggression, and no one should get away with not owning up to their mistakes.

Rachael hadn’t taken her gaze off me in a long while. “Tamar? Are you okay?”

I flicked my eyes up to meet hers. “Fine.”

But now Abe focused on me, and the clear worry on his face made it obvious he’d recognized the anger on mine. “Tammy?”

I couldn’t keep in the vitriol I felt toward the organization anymore. “No. This isn’t okay. You’re not a piece of meat, and you can’t be treated like one. Someone has to do something.”

“Tammy, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. How many concussions have you had in your life? So many they don’t even bother you anymore. But I remember you being fifteen and throwing up on the sidelines.” I clamped my mouth shut and shook my head, too upset to go down this road.

Later, when the doctors had kicked us out of the room, Rachael sat down next to me, a look of determination on her face. “So I don’t think it’s fine either.”

I lifted my head up. “What’s that?”

Ryan shot her a look, and she lifted challenging brows back at him. He raised his eyes the ceili

ng. “God forbid you let it go.”

Rachael’s jaw worked, and she turned to me, the words bursting out of her. “Loft helmets are crap, and everyone knows it but no one will say it.”

I stared at her, and then replayed everything I’d ever known about Loft. “It’s true that no one ever says anything about Loft Athletics...”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “Not a shock.”

“Rachael...” Ryan’s tone made it clear this was an ongoing argument. She spun at him. “God forbid I care about your well-being.”

He scowled. “I changed my helmet, didn’t I?”