“Will Zimmerman face any charges?” The camera person doesn’t pan to the media gathered, making it impossible to find out who is asking.
“From the family, no. We are unaware if the authorities are pursuing anything. Next?”
“What about the driver of the truck?”
“Yes, he was cited. His charges are pending. Next?”
“How long is Ms. Powell-James expected to remain in the hospital?”
“Her injuries are significant.”
I grunt to get Quinn’s attention. He turns the television down and scoots over to me. “Do you need the nurse?”
I shake my head and point my eyes toward my mask. He removes it slowly. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”
Quinn returns the oxygen mask. “You were in a really bad accident, Peyton. We thought you were going to die.”
I close my eyes and try to turn away but my body is a prisoner to my injuries and I can barely move. Either way, I don’t want to look at Quinn right now. I don’t want to see what his eyes will tell me… I’m not the same person as I was before.
16
Noah
“Again, Westbury, and maybe this time you’ll try hitting Cunningham,” Coach yells, even though he’s standing right next to me. Standing behind the center, Alex Moore, I call out my cadence.
“Louder!”
I start over, increasing the octave of my voice per Coach’s instructions. “Set, set, hike,” I holler. With the ball in my hand, I step back and stumble over my own feet before falling to the ground.
“Goddammit, Westbury.” Coach picks me up off the ground by my facemask. He’s yelling so hard, spit is flying into my face. He’s asking me what's wrong. He wants to know if I’ve suddenly forgotten how to play.
“No, sir.”
“Get out of my sight.” He pushes me toward the sidelines. Normally I would stay and prove to him I’m exactly the player he drafted, but my mind is not on the game. Every part of me is in Chicago, and he knows this. I don’t know if this is some mental tough love thing or what. If it is, it’s not working.
I forgo the sideline and head right to the locker room. I need the quiet so I can think and reflect on my on-field performance. Mentally, I should be stronger. I should be able to block what’s going on with Peyton out of my mind and focus on my job, but I can’t get over the fact that I want to be there with her.
My phone sits on the top shelf of my locker. I pick it up and press the home button. Each notification is from Dessie. Since our fight and subsequent break-up, she’s been calling and texting non-stop. Most of them I ignore, especially because it’s easy to tell when she’s angry, which usually means she’s been drinking. Her messages range from being sorry to offering to share me with Peyton, telling me that she doesn’t care whether or not I used her to pass time. Where she came up with that idea, I’m not so sure. Subconsciously, I think that’s exactly what I’ve done.
When I first met Dessie, I was attracted to her. There’s no doubt she’s beautiful. She was wild though, and I’ve never been one to play around in the party scene. My body is my temple sort of thing. I caught her once snorting coke, and threatened to leave. Dessie promised it would never happen again, and to my knowledge, it hadn’t until I left for Chicago. Thinking back though, we’re not with each other when we travel, so how the hell do I know if she’s doing it or not. Either way, I can’t tolerate it. I refuse to.
I undress as quickly as I can and hit the shower. I’d love to go home, but leaving before Coach has another opportunity to ream me out wouldn’t be wise. I deserve the ass chewing, but he knows where my mind is right now. I warned him.
As soon as I’m out of the shower, I hit the trainer’s room. He motions for me to hop up on the table, and once I do, he starts giving my aching muscles a rub down.
“I heard what happened out there,” he says as he works the kinks out of my calf.
“I have a lot of shit going on right now.”
“You know I used to be a bartender so I think there’s some underlying rule in place that allows you to open up.”
I chuckle and sigh. “My best friend was the passenger in the car accident Zimmerman was in. She’s in a coma back in Chicago and I’m stuck here.”
He pauses and looks like he’s about to tell me something important. Everyone knows about Zimmerman’s accident, it’s the talk of the league right now. “I saw a press conference, I think she’s awake or improving.”
I bolt upright, startling him. ?
?What did you say? When?”