“When I was thirteen.” The rush of memory crashes over me. I had no intention of bringing it up. I didn’t even think about it until I got right outside the door, but now that I’m here the story tumbles out. “I was struggling, you know, with the bullying and anxiety. This one boy in my class made a comment, basically daring me to cut myself with the razor blade in my pencil sharpener. It was so weird. I hadn’t really thought about it before that, but his words…they stuck in my head and I couldn’t get them out. So, I started cutting. And things got worse and worse and one night I cut my arm—deep. I just wanted to stop and I couldn’t stop and I thought maybe if my mom saw how bad it was, she’d finally understand how much pain I was in.”

Dexter jerks to a stop, his fingers tightening around mine. We’re just outside the front door, the lights from inside casting a glow over us. He looks at me deeply, eyes filled with sorrow.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“It was a long time ago.”

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight—hugging me with the force of a hundred men.

“I’m glad you got help,” he finally says.

“Me, too.”

“And as much as I hate how much your mother overreacted, I’m glad it led you here—to us.”

“Me too.” I sniff.

“Let’s go check on our boy, okay?”

I nod and wipe away the stray tear in the corner of my eye. Walking into this hospital is totally different from the last. Back then, I was falling apart. Alone. Lonely. Desperate. Now? I’m walking toward the people I love with another one by my side.

He’s awake when we get inside.

Lying in the bed with dilated eyes and a confused, goofier-than-normal expression.

“It happen

ed fast,” Jake says, recounting the events of the afternoon. “He just hit the ground hard and two guys landed on top of him. Like, there was nothing unusual about the play.”

“Except George was involved,” Charlie mutters. It seems like making jokes about his brother’s incompetence is the only thing that makes him feel better. But he’s been two feet from the side of the bed since we got here. I don’t think he’s leaving his twin’s side until he’s released.

“He woke up in the ambulance,” the doctor says. “I think he was unconscious for about fifteen minutes, which is a little longer than we like but not necessarily something to be concerned about. I want to keep him overnight at least to keep an eye on him.”

Sierra nods. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I need to update his medical history. Do you have that information?”

“Yes, I’m his legal guardian.” She digs in her bag and pulls out a file. The name “George” is printed at the top. “I’ve got all his information here.”

“You guys can stay in here for a few minutes but he’s going to need to rest, okay?” the doctor says to us on the way out of the room.

“Charlie,” Sierra says, stepping back in. “Can you come help me with this for a minute?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He looks over at his brother and holds out his fist. George shakily lifts his arm and they bump.

He passes me by and I squeeze his hand. The three of us remain, surrounding his bed. Jake looks worn out. I know he has a big paper due on Friday.

George seems content to loopily tell us the story of what he remembers, which is mostly being slammed to the ground and everything turning black. “I woke up totally confused. I had this rushing in my ears and I thought it was the crowd cheering me on, then I heard the lyrics to Wiz Khalifa circling my brain.”

“What crowd?” Dexter asks. It wasn’t a game, but practice.

“I was confused! I totally thought I was on the field during a game, that the bright lights in my eyes were the field lights. I was about to do my victory dance when I realized I couldn’t move.”

“We were in the ambulance,” Jake says. “He kept saying the same thing over and over again. ’Did I get a touchdown?’ No matter how many times I said no, he was convinced he had.”

“Well, I was going for it when those guys took me out.”

“You were five feet away from the end zone.”

Tags: Angel Lawson The Wayward Sons Romance
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