The safety stretched for me, his fingers brushing my jersey.
The roar of the crowd filled my ears.
Holy fuck, would I make it? My first touchdown at ASU? As my feet passed the goal line, I ran a few more steps. I had to be certain there would be no reason for the refs to take this away.
When I stopped, players surrounded me, slapping my back, my chest and my ass.
“You fucking did it, Moore.” James grabbed my helmet, making me face him, a broad smile stretching his lips. “I knew I could count on you. As soon as I saw Hennessy fall, you were my guy.”
“Yeah? Thanks, man.” Warmth bloomed in my heart. If only Malik were here. But he’d be watching. I tore off my helmet, strutted toward a camera, kissed the ball and said, “For you, buddy.”
After winningthe game and showering, I left the stadium and hurried to Tempe St. Luke’s hospital, where I’d learned they’d taken Malik. I parked in the lot and jogged toward the tall, square building, which lit the clear night sky. Hopefully, the injury wasn’t worse than it appeared.
I strolled under the metal portico covering the circular drive for the emergency room and to a triage desk. “Hi, I’m here to see Malik Thompson.”
A man in blue scrubs glanced upward from a computer screen. “And you are?”
“His, uh, brother.” Might as well lie. It wasn’t like they could prove it, and it would get me in faster. I slipped my phone from the pocket of my athletic shorts and texted Malik. Multiple messages popped up from Ella. Fuck that, she didn’t need to hear from me right now. Malik was the one who needed me.
“Brother?” The man in scrubs narrowed his eyes. “Okay.”
Grey
I’m here. I told them I’m your brother, so they’d let me back with no hassles.
The three dots blinked at me, and my phone chimed.
Malik
Great. I had an MRI, and I’m waiting for the results.
I breathed in deeply. What if he needed surgery? That would take him out for at least half of the season.
A large, automated door swung open, and the guy from the desk said, “This way.”
I followed him past beds, most with curtains drawn, and to a small room with a sliding glass door. All around me, personnel in scrubs meandered and pushed medical equipment on carts. The place was busy tonight. But then, it was a Saturday night.
“He’s in here.” He slid the door open and then left.
I stepped inside, my pulse rushing through my veins. “Malik?” My gaze raked over him, the blue hospital gown with a nondescript pattern, the thin blanket covering most of him and then his ankle, bandaged with an ice pack. “Hey.”
I stopped at his bedside and grabbed his hand. Fuck, he looked worn out. “Where’s Randy?” Surely the trainer would be around here somewhere. But for now, he wasn’t. Bending over, I kissed the back of his hand.
A slow grin worked over Malik’s lips. “He went to get some food.” His grin grew wider as his grip tightened on my hand. “That touchdown was amazing, Grey. You totally faked out Hennessy.”
“I did. You want to know how? I thought,what would Malik do?” I freed a soft chuckle. He had to know how much playing with him had improved my game.
“Yeah? I thought those moves looked familiar.” He beamed at me. Lowering his voice, he said, “I saw what you did after the play. Thanks.” His cheeks reddened.
“I wanted to make you proud.” Could I get away with a quick kiss? Why the hell not? They’d drawn the surrounding curtain. Bending over, I placed a soft kiss on his lips.
“You always make me proud, Grey.” He sighed and slumped against the thin mattress. “I’ve gotta tell you something. I’m worried about the results of the MRI.”
“Yeah? Why?” I glanced at his ankle. The ice had reduced the swelling. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“No, but…” He inhaled deeply. “Shimá warned me something bad would happen. She had a dream.”
“She did?” I wrinkled my forehead. Why hadn’t he mentioned this before? She was never wrong. “Were you worried going into the game?”