“What?” Her eyes widened. “But it’s against Holchester. It’s…Asher. You have to go. I’m fine.” She coughed again, her breathing growing labored. “There’s no point in you staying here when I’m sleeping.”
“There is a point.” My jaw tightened. “When Brooklyn called and told me you were in the hospital…there are no words to describe how I felt. It was like the world had collapsed and buried me beneath its rubble. And even though she told me you were alive and that you weren’t in serious danger, I couldn’t think, couldn’t even fucking breathe until I saw it with my own two eyes.” I shook my head, my throat taut with emotion. “If I left now and went to the match, it wouldn’t matter. I’d spend the entire time thinking about you. I’d be a liability more than anything else.”
Prior to Scarlett, I would’ve crawled through a sea of broken glass before I missed a match. Football was the most important thing in my life. It always had been, and I thought it always would be.
But I’d finally found something—someone—that I cared about more.
It didn’t matter that I’d spent weeks anticipating today’s match against Holchester or that my pride was on the line. It didn’t matter that Coach was probably furious with me and that the fans would be too.
Scarlett was more important than all of that, and I couldn’t, wouldn’t leave her side as long as she was here.
A tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice small.
My heart squeezed for the millionth time that day. “Don’t be sorry, darling.” I rubbed the tear away with my thumb. “It’s not your fault.”
“But—”
“No. I chose to come here, and I chose to stay here. Do not feel guilty about me missing the match. That’s my problem to deal with. You just focus on resting so we can get you out of here as soon as possible. I’d hate to subject you to hospital food for longer than necessary.”
Scarlett’s laugh came out as a wisp of a sound, but it was enough for me.
Our conversation must’ve spent her energy because she didn’t protest further. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I waited until her breathing settled into a steady rhythm before I stepped into the hall.
Brooklyn and Carina were huddled over the former’s phone, wearing identical masks of apprehension.
They raised their heads when they heard the door open, and my temporary relief from seeing Scarlett morphed into fresh concern.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
They exchanged glances.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news twice in one day, but…” Brooklyn handed me her phone. “You should see this.”
I took it, and my skin immediately went ice-cold.
Someone had captured a video of me arriving at the hospital and sprinting toward the entrance. Going through the side was more private than going through the front, but I guess it still wasn’t private enough.
Whoever took the video had uploaded it to social media seven minutes ago, and it already had over fifty thousand views and hundreds of comments.
Once the paps picked up on this, it wouldn’t take them long to figure out who I was here to see. After that, it’d take an even shorter leap for them to connect the dots of our relationship.
I’d missed a huge match against Holchester for her. There was only one reason why I’d do that.
“I’m sorry,” Carina said. She must’ve come to the same conclusions I had. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”
“No. It’s…” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “No. We’ll deal with it. It’ll be fine. Thank you.”
It’s not fine. I batted away the voice that told me our secret, the secret Scarlett and I had worked so hard to keep for so long, would soon be out of the bag in the most public way possible.
One thing at a time.
The news hadn’t broken yet. Until then, I needed to call Sloane—a quick scan of my messages revealed she’d already seen the video—then call Coach, then find the doctor and figure out a way to make Scarlett’s recovery more comfortable.
I didn’t know how long she needed to stay at the hospital, but she bloody sure wasn’t staying in that small, sad room for longer than a night.
I made my calls in a quiet corner near Scarlett’s room. Sloane was, as expected, on top of the impending relationship leak. She wasn’t thrilled about the timing or the circumstances, but I think she was just glad I wasn’t making headlines for racing anymore.
My call to Coach went to voicemail. I wasn’t surprised since warm-ups for the match had already started, but I needed to apologize to him in my own words, so I left a short message. He could be livid with me in person later.
Finally, I spoke with the doctor, who said Scarlett could be discharged as soon as tomorrow if her condition remained steady.
That was a relief, but I was already worrying about next week’s rehearsal. And the week after that. And the week after that. Would Lavinia let her remain the lead if she found out about the hospitalization? With Yvette gone, she didn’t have other options for the Lorena role, but I couldn’t see the stern, rule-abiding director letting what happened today slide. She wasn’t warm and fuzzy, but she cared about her staff’s well-being.
My head pounded with a million worries stacked on top of each other.
While Scarlett slept, I kept an eye on both the news and the match. Thankfully, we were up by one, but I was more focused on the brief close-ups of Vincent’s face than the actual gameplay.
I tried to read his expressions and figure out if he knew about Scarlett yet. The video of me at the hospital had been uploaded when the players were already on the pitch, so I doubted he was aware of that. But had he turned on his phone or spoken with Coach before the match?
It was impossible to tell since Vincent always looked like a moody son of a bitch during a match.
Coach, on the other hand, was visibly angry. If he clenched his jaw any harder during the few camera shots of him, he’d shatter a molar. Gallagher, my sub, was doing a damn good job, but it didn’t matter.
There’d be hell to pay for my last-minute decision to skip the match later. It was technically a personal emergency, but since no one was dead or dying, I doubted he’d sympathize much.
“Asher, go get something to eat,” Brooklyn said. “Scarlett’s still asleep. She’s not going to, I don’t know, roll over and fall onto the floor.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Carina added.
