“Okay, wings are out of the oven. Chips are poured in the bowl and the door” —Cameron skips from the kitchen, turning the deadbolt— “is locked.”
“Beers are popped open and volume” —I grab the remote— “is up.”
I move to help carry everything to the coffee table and then it’s kick-off time.
On the sideline, we see Mason slip his helmet on, pulling at his collar as he jumps up and down on both feet to keep his blood flowing strong.
Our guy goes down at the twenty, and the offense jogs onto the field, led by my brother.
We clap and cheer, standing too close to the screen as he fills his men in on the play. They break, take their positions, and not five seconds later, Mason calls hike.
The ball is snapped, grasped tightly in his palms, and he spins, fake tossing it to the running back, before stepping back and firing it for a quick first down.
“Woohoo!” We clap.
They get set again, and this time, Mason breaks through a gap, running for eleven more yards before sliding onto his hip to avoid the tackle.
“Yes! Two snaps, two first downs!”
“Oh my god, this shit is looking so good to these coaches right now!” Cameron smiles, downing half her beer.
I pick mine up, watching as Mason glances at the sideline. He gives a curt nod and turns back, pointing to his right before lifting and setting his left foot down. The ball is snapped, and he drops back, looking downfield, but the other team blitzes, breaking through his line.
Mason is sacked from his right rear and front left. His torso twists opposite of his hips, his back bending. His helmet flies off on impact, and Mason hits the turf.
Cam and I stand frozen for several seconds before we snap out of it.
“Holy shit.”
“Son of bitch.”
Panic sets in, and we jerk closer to the TV.
“No, no, no.”
“Ari, he’s not getting up.”
I fold my hands in front of me, twisting from side to side. “Get up, Mase.”
“Ari… he’s not getting up!”
“Fuck.”
Outside of the few who were near Mason, the rest of the team is just now realizing their quarterback has yet to rise.
Brady is shoving his way through their bunched-up teammates on the field as Chase is rushing from the sideline in the same second.
I clench my teeth, tears brimming in my eyes as the fear shooting through the boys blows through me. They get a few feet from Mason, but both are quickly pushed back by several people on the Avix coaching staff. They shout, trying to see beyond the group of people rushing to my brother’s side, but are forced to stay put.
Brady tears his helmet off, lifting it as he shouts in rebuttal, but all it does is draw two more linemen his way. They act like a shield, blocking and driving him backward. He tosses the helmet, gripping his head as he turns away and my hands come up to cover my mouth.
I jolt when my phone vibrates on the coffee table, my chest squeezing as I answer.
“Dad!” I panic.
“Arianna, it’s okay,” he assures me in a low, calming tone. “Take a deep breath for me, okay?”
I try, but it’s choppy and causes a strain along my ribs. “Dad, he’s not moving.”
“I know, baby. We’re watching. Am I on speaker?”
I press the speaker button. “You are now.”
“Cameron, honey, you doin’ okay?” he asks gently, knowing without asking she’s right beside me.
She nods even though he can’t see her, biting at her nails. “Mm-hm.” She sniffles
“Good, that’s good. Your moms are both right here, your dad too, Cam, and the Lancasters,” he tells us, and Cameron reaches out to squeeze my hand.
I drop my ass onto the table, and she stays standing beside me.
We stare at the screen as the medics stabilize Mason’s neck, three others crouched around him, his teammates not far away.
“Is Mom okay?” My legs bounce.
“She’s scared,” he tells me honestly. “But we all are. We’re all together, though, and that’s what matters. Mason knows we’re with him, even if we’re all in different places.”
I sniffle. Jumping to my feet when Noah steps onto the field.
A ref tries to get him to move back, but he argues, and I hold my breath as his coach, standing a few feet from Mason, spots him.
The coach rushes over, saying something, and Noah pats his shoulder, jogging toward the endzone.
“What is he doing?” Cameron whispers, and I shake my head.
“What’s who doing?” my dad wonders.
Noah reaches out, grabbing a hold of the giant camera just to the right of the goal post, and I gasp when the network splits the screen, Noah’s face displayed across the second one.
The commentators stop talking about the trajectory of Mason’s hit and begin taking guesses as to what the quarterback is doing, but they don’t have the slightest clue.
I do.
Because as soon as he knows for sure he’s alive, Noah stares straight into the camera, straight into my eyes… and he nods.
Everything inside me cracks, breaks, and then fuses back together. I collapse onto the sofa, tears pouring down my cheeks.
“He’s okay,” I rasp.
“What do you mean, honey?” my dad urges.
Cameron’s head snaps from the screen to me. “How do you know?”
“Noah,” I tell them both. “That’s what he’s saying. He’s letting me know Mason’s okay.”
Cameron’s tears fall and she drops onto the couch. “I fucking love that guy.”
A croaky chuckle leaves me, and I smile. “Dad, he’s okay.”
“Honey… he’s still not moving.”
I nod, but only moments later, Mason bends his knee and my mother’s gasp chokes me up.
The medic staff stands, repositioning themselves near Mason’s shoulders, and as they do, Mason lifts his left arm into the air, letting all those watching know, he’s okay. The cart comes out onto the field, but Mason isn’t put on a stretcher. The crowd goes insane as he’s helped to his feet, and then slowly set on the back. He’s carted away and my parents celebrate on the other end of the line.
We talk for a little longer, and my dad assures me he’ll call if they get any news. Mason being eighteen, there’s a chance none of us will hear a word until he’s able to call us himself.
Hours go by before my phone rings, and when it does, it’s from Brady.
Cam and I scrunch into the screen.
“Brady.”
“Hey, girls,” he says softly, a sad grin on his lips, Chase right beside him. “You heard anything?”
“Not yet. What do you know?” Cameron asks.
“They took him to a hospital a couple miles away to follow concussion protocol, run tests and shit.” He sighs. “That’s all we got from Coach.”
“Can you go see him?”
Saddened, they shake their heads. “We’re getting on the bus from here, but a trainer went with him. Coach says he’ll update us when he can, but without Mason’s permission, they can’t tell him shit. Coach thinks they might have doped him up, so he’s probably coming in and out.”
“They wanted to take him on the stretcher, but he wanted to walk off.” Chase runs his hands down his sweat-covered face. “I think that was for your and the fam’s benefit.”
I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. They called. They were watching.”
“Damn.” Brady glances behind to the side and back. “One of the guys said he heard him wheezing, saying something about his ribs, so I don’t know.”
I nod again, gnawing on my inner lip. “I’m going to call my dad. If I hear more, I’ll call.”
“Same.”
“Ari, he’s going to be okay.” Chase catches my eyes. “He’ll be okay. Call me or Brady if you, you know, just want to talk.”
“We will.” I look to Cam, grabbing her hand.
“You guys try to
rest on the bus.” Cam drops her head on my shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. Don’t worry too much.”
Grim smiles cover the boys’ lips and Brady sighs. “We gotta hit the showers, we don’t have a lot of time left before we have to be on the bus.”
“Go. I’ll text you.”
With that, they hang up and we drop against the cushions.
I call my dad to fill him in on the little I found out, and he says he just spoke with the hospital, but to no avail. Cameron and I spend the next several hours pacing, heating and reheating food after allowing it to get cold all over again.
We were still awake when the sun started to rise, but we must have fallen asleep at some point because suddenly, I’m waking to a pounding at my door. Cam jumps up, rushing to open it, and Brady and Chase hurry in. Brady hugs Cameron first, pulling me in next.
“Anything?” he hopes.
I shake my head, turning to Chase, who wraps me up next. “Why hasn’t he called anyone? Why hasn’t the hospital called your parents?”
My eyes squeeze shut. “I don’t know. We stayed up all night waiting, and nothing. I’m scared.”
“I know,” he whispers, his hold tightening, and I bury my face in his chest. “I know you are.”
A soft tap has my head snapping up, and we all look to the door Cameron left wide open.
Noah stands in the entryway.
“Noah,” I exhale, and my muscles go lax.
I rush toward him and a small smile pulls at his lips as he steps inside, his arms slowly molding around me as I throw myself into him.
I begin to cry, but his lips find my ear.
“Shh, Juliet,” he murmurs. “You don’t want him to hear you cry.”
My head snaps up, and I frown as Noah’s eyes soften.
He nods, letting me go as he brings his phone up beside us.
“I’m with her now,” he tells the man standing awkwardly on the other side of the video call.
The man nods and shuffles around. There’s a click, and then the camera flips, and Mason laid up in a hospital bed fills the screen.
A sob breaks from me and I tear the phone from Noah’s hands. “Mase…”
“Hey, baby sister.” His voice is raspy, and a weak smile pulls at his mouth.
“You’re okay,” I cry. “Are you okay?”
He chuckles, but as fast as it leaves him, he groans, his hands clenching the blanket laid over him. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
Cameron squeezes herself in beside me, and then the boys are right here too, crowding in.
Mason’s eyes move along the three of us, and they grow glossy, so he flicks his away.
“You pansies miss me?” Mase jokes, gratitude in his brown gaze.
“Course we came straight here, brother.” Brady nods, knowing that’s exactly what he would need from his best friends. “Right off the bus.”
Mason nods, looking to his lap. He licks his lips before returning his attention to the screen. “Two fractured ribs and uh” —he clears his throat— “a sprained shoulder. I’m out no less than four weeks, maybe longer.” His jaw tics.
No one says anything because we know Mason. He doesn’t want to hear a word about it. He’s accepted it, and that’s that.
“Way to get out of practice, asshole,” Brady jokes, even though he doesn’t feel it.
But Mason grins, and that’s the point.
“Ari, don’t say anything to Mom and Dad. I’m going to call them right now, but I’m telling her I’m bruised up and need rest. That’s it.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I don’t need them worrying or abandoning the trip they spent the last four years saving for.”
“Chances are she already booked flights.”
He smiles. “Yeah, I better hang up and call her right quick.”
“When will you be home?”
“I’m being released right now, just waiting for paperwork. This guy” —he nods at the man holding the camera— “grabbed me some sweats and shit to put on, and Coach hooked me up with a flight home. It’s a short jet, some alumni guy was watching, saw the hit, and hit him up, so I don’t have to wait around at the airport like this.”
“Good. What time should we pick you up?”
He shakes his head, and then a tense expression builds along his brow. “I’m gonna call Nate. Have him come get me and take me back to the beach house.”
“What, why?”
“I have to take it easy for two weeks, Ari, pretty much lie in bed, and I can’t do that in the football house.”
“Stay here, I can help.”
“You have class and we have an entire house unoccupied. I’m going to sleep and lie on my ass. Lolli and Nate are around, Parker and Kenra too. Payton. If I need something, they’ll be there.”
I glare but nod. I say okay when, really, I want to argue, and he knows it, which is why a small grin covers his lips.
“Ari.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug, sniffling. “But if you don’t answer my calls, one call, Mase, I’m driving there, I swear.”
“Deal.” His expression grows tender, and he sighs, dropping his head back when his eyes begin to cloud over.
My heart breaks for him.
“Mase—”
“Love you guys,” he cuts me off.
“Love you.”
“Call you later.” He looks to the man again. “Hang up.”
My entire body sags as the call ends and I toss the phone on the counter, burying my face in my hands. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
Someone’s hand falls to my back, rubbing soft circles.
“Are we sure he’s okay?” Cameron worries.
“He’s Mason,” Brady says. “This is exactly what I’d expect from him in this situation.”
I look over, and Chase is right beside me. He nods, agreeing.
“You want us to stay?” he asks, his tone wishful.
But I shake my head with a sigh. “You guys go home, you look like you slept as much as we did.”
“Are you sure?” His voice lowers, but I only nod, and the hand on my back, his hand, falls to his side.
The boys bend, grabbing their bags off the ground, and face us again.
Cameron looks to me. “Trey just texted… do you want me to stay or…” She glances toward Noah.
“Go. I’m good now.” I nod, wiping at my left eye in exhaustion. I look behind me to Noah, who has moved several feet away, now leaning against the wall. I turn to him and he pushes off, slowly coming closer. I meet him halfway and he reaches up, brushing my hair behind my ear.
He stares, his blue eyes sick with worry, and so I nod, my hand coming up to squeeze his wrist briefly.
I’m okay now, swear.
He gives a curt jerk of his chin.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks.
Noah shakes his head, unwilling to accept because, in his mind, he didn’t do this to be thanked, he did it because he knew I needed it and he was able to give that to me.
“We’re gonna head home, girls.”
I glance at them, nodding.
Chase stares straight ahead as he walks out the door, and Brady salutes Noah in thanks.
“Call me later, Ari Baby.” He pins me with a stern expression.
“I will.” I hug Cameron quickly and she closes the door with her exit.
The moment they’re gone, I face Noah, and my emotions win again.
Tears fall, so I spin away, pressing my fingers against my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, trying to swallow back the cry working its way up my throat.
“Don’t apologize and don’t hide from me.” He steps around, pulling me into his chest. “What am I good for if not to hold you when you need to be held?”
“I can think of a few things,” I cry, chuckling through my tears when he does. Sighing, I look up at him. “I’m just worried. Mason isn’t Mason without football and his trying not to make us worry only means there’s something to worry about
.”
The pads of his thumbs come up, and he gently swipes them under my eyes. “Maybe he needs a couple days to be angry and come to terms with it?”
I nod, tipping my chin to kiss his hand.
The corner of Noah’s mouth lifts and I blow out a deep breath.
He presses his forehead to mine. “You texted me all through the night. Did you sleep at all?”
I shrug. “I remember the sun coming up and then the boys were knocking at my door.”
His strong, warm palms cup my cheeks. “You should try to get some sleep.” He releases me, stepping back to grab his phone and pushes it into his pocket.
I follow him to the door, and he faces me as he grips the handle. “Call me when you wake up? I can come make you something, bring coffee…”
He twists the knob, pulling it open, but I catch it by the lock before it’s fully free of the frame, and Noah’s eyes snap to mine.
My chest constricts as I slide my hand lower, until I’m covering his, and I free it from the cool metal.
A slight frown forms along Noah’s brows, but he doesn’t argue when I push the door closed, the click of the lock the only sound to be heard.
His chest rises with a full breath, and I rise to my toes, stealing it from his lips.
His hands come up, tangling in my hair, and he kisses me back. His mouth heavy and hungry. Healing.
I need this.
I need… him.
Our eyes open at the same time and he must see something within mine because his body quakes with realization.
My heart beats out of control as I glide my palms down his arms until I’ve reached his hands. I hook my fingers with his, and whisper, “Stay.”
Chapter 28
Arianna
* * *
Noah doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t back away either, not that I thought he would.
His eyes stay locked on mine, so I blindly lead us toward my room, and with each step, his frown deepens.
At my door, he pauses his steps, his blinding blues searching, so I release him, move one foot farther, and grab the hem of my T-shirt. Slowly, I pull it over my head, letting it fall between us. Noah looks from me to it, and when I reach behind me to undo my bra, his gaze snaps up.
Say You Swear Page 27