Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“He’s QB1,” I said, glancing behind JB at where Holden was watching us. “He’s going to do everything in his power to get back on that field with his team.”
Holden’s nose flared, his eyes flicking between mine before he looked away, staring straight ahead at some anatomy poster on the wall in front of him.
“JB,” my father said, bringing my attention back to our inner circle. “Do you think Julep is ready to lead this injury rehabilitation on her own?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate.
Dad nodded. “Good. Then, it’s settled.” He looked at me then. “You deliver the news to your player, give him a run-down of the plan, and then get him home. Make sure he has what he needs to follow your recommended recovery instructions.”
I drew in a shallow breath before a full inhale found me, and JB reached out his hand for me to shake it before he left with the rest of the staff. Coach stopped by to say something to Holden, who only nodded with a grim look before my dad squeezed his shoulder and left, too.
Then, it was just us.
I cleared my throat. “Well, it looks like—”
“I heard,” he clipped, hopping off the examination table. “Let’s just get out of here so we can get started.”
Holden was quiet as I drove us off the hospital grounds and across Boston toward the suburb where our houses were. His eyes were focused outside the rolled-down passenger window, jaw set, those trademark dimples nowhere to be found.
I’d already run through the list of things I wanted to make sure he had at home to get his recovery started — cold compresses, anti-inflammatories, the right pillow to help elevate his arm and keep him from rolling onto his shoulder at night. Of course, he had all of that and more, and fortunately he lived with three other teammates who could help him with the tasks he wouldn’t be able to do for a while.
Like comb that messy head of hair.
It was strange, seeing him all broody and silent. I’d been content to let him mope when we’d first left the hospital, but now, I found myself drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel and sneaking glances at him, wondering how I could cheer him up a little.
Which also made no sense.
For reasons unbeknownst to me, I saw a bit of my sister in him in that moment. I remembered how she never faltered in her optimism, in her blind hope that everything would turn out okay. I’d only seen her sad a handful of times in my life, and each one, I’d done everything in my power to bring her usual smile back because it felt like the world had tilted off its axis anytime she wasn’t wearing it.
I’d heard it from plenty of players and staff alike around the locker room, how Holden Moore was sharp, focused, and serious. And on the field, I saw it for myself.
But off the field? I’d only witnessed him being an insufferably jolly idiot intent on getting under my skin.
I would never admit it to him or anyone else, but I wished for that version of him now.
Maybe it was because I’d been assigned to him. Maybe I felt a bit of ownership over his recovery, over his emotions, too.
Or maybe I was just tired of sitting in a silent car with a mopey quarterback.
“You have a lot of friends.”
I inwardly cringed at the stupid statement, but it was the first thing that had come to mind.
Holden subtly shifted his chin toward me but kept his eyes on the buildings as we passed them. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
I considered. “Not bad. Just… interesting. At least, to me.”
“You don’t have a lot of friends?”
“I’m not sure I have even one.”
Holden turned to look at me then, and it was me who kept my eyes on the road this time. I thought he was going to press, ask me why or suggest that he was sure I had at least one friend.
Instead, he watched me for a pause before looking out the window again.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” I offered after a moment.
No response.
“I know you probably can’t imagine your life without football, but you won’t be off the field long. And the team will still need you.” I paused, leaning over a bit before adding. “Cap.”
I was aiming for a smile, but Holden only swallowed and let out a long, slow exhale like that breath was the only thing keeping him from breaking down.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. This was not going well.
Then, I shifted in my seat, holding the steering wheel with my opposite hand. “Ah, it’s not football that has you so upset, is it?”
Holden frowned, turning to look at me.
I held up my right hand and wiggled my fingers. “It’s that you won’t have use of your hand for a while. Your…” I let my eyes trail down to rest between his thighs before arching a brow and meeting his gaze again. “Good hand.”