Ｓｅｒｅｎｄｉｐｉｔｙ

EIGHT

🅖🅘🅞

The doctor stood by my bed, clipboard in hand, rattling off questions about my health. I didn’t even bother to fight it. I knew the drill. Answer, nod, smile if necessary. It wasn’t like getting pissed was gonna change anything.

“How are you feeling today? Any new pain?” she asked, her pen poised over the paper.

“Same as yesterday,” I said flatly. “Just tired, sore everywhere.”

She nodded, jotting something down. “That’s to be expected. We’re going to run a few more tests, but overall, you seem to be healing steadily.”

Healing steadily. Whatever that meant. I just wanted to get out of here, back on the field, back to normal. But every time they asked me how I was, it was like a reminder that I wasn’t there yet—and who knew if I’d even get there.

“Are you getting enough rest?” she asked.

“As much as I can in a hospital bed,” I replied, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. She didn’t react, just nodded and scribbled on her clipboard again. Business as usual.

I didn’t have the energy to fuss or argue. It wouldn’t change the fact that my body was fucked right now. They were doing their job, and I was stuck waiting—waiting to see if I’d ever be the same again. The worst part? Not knowing.

After the doctor finished her check-up and excused herself, the room felt oddly quiet. I reached for my phone on the stand next to me, but as I stretched out my arm, pain shot through my body like a fucking electric shock. Every movement reminded me of the damn accident, and I cursed under my breath. Finally, I managed to grab my phone and opened it, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation.

The screen lit up with messages. My parents were worried, my friends were blowing up my phone, all asking where the hell I was. I couldn’t tell any of them about the accident. I just couldn’t. I scrolled through the messages, my heart racing, until I spotted one that made my stomach drop. It was from Jack.

“Where the hell are you? Kick-off ceremony is tonight. The whole team’s here. You better be showing up!”

Shit. I cursed again, this time louder. I completely forgot that today was the kick-off ceremony. As the quarterback, I was supposed to be leading the team. My mind raced as I thought about how much I needed to be there. But with these injuries, I had no fucking clue how I was going to make it. Would they even let me go?

I leaned back against the pillows, frustration building inside me. I couldn’t let my team down, not now. But I also couldn’t let anyone know what had happened. It felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and the pressure was suffocating.

I stared at my phone, the screen lighting up my face, revealing a mix of frustration and desperation. I had to be at that ceremony. I needed to be with the team. My fingers hovered over the contact list, and my mind raced with thoughts of Daniela.

Yeah, she was the last person I wanted to reach out to. Our earlier exchange replayed in my mind like a bad fucking movie—her sassy remarks, the way she dismissed my pain like it was nothing. But in that moment, she was the only one who knew what I was dealing with, and I was starting to realize that I might need her help. She was probably the last person that would want to help me.

Hell, I hated admitting it, but I was running out of options. If I didn't show up, the team would start questioning my commitment, my ability to lead. Being the quarterback meant everything to me, and I couldn't let this injury screw that up.

I took a deep breath, letting the pain shoot through my body as I moved to sit up straighter. I couldn’t afford to think about how annoyed I was with her. I just had to swallow my pride and call. With one more glance at the screen, I finally pressed her name.