Page 32 of Playing for Love

“He’s headed into surgery now to set the bone. There’s been some displacement and they’re checking for nerve injury. Right now, they’re realigning the bone, putting in screws and a metal plate to hold the bone in place so it heals properly. Then he’ll be in a sling, immobilized for a few weeks. After that, physical therapy.”

“When will he be ready to play?”

She hesitated a beat and I groaned, shoving a hand through my hair.

“Eight to twelve weeks, but he’ll be back for December, in time for the playoffs.” She rushed her words, laid a hand on my arm. I felt Denise come up behind me, put an arm around me.

“That’s too bad,” she said, but I couldn’t tell if she meant it. My eyes were still on Mia’s and I could see every ounce of the empathy, the real concern there.

“I have to call Tate’s parents. He gave me the number. Asked me to do it.”

I nodded. “I’d like to say a few words to them too when you’re done.”

She nodded. Denise sighed, long, hard, impatient.

“He’ll be fine, you two,” she said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Mia eyed her, giving a small smile and a huff. “Of course, you’re right. Voice of reason.”

“More like the voice of a non-football fan,” I said, but there was no bite to my words and I put an arm around her. She was right. There were people in this hospital who had life-threatening problems. I had no business equating the loss of a few weeks of football with something serious.

“Shall we?” Mia said, lifting her phone in front of her, between us. And for a minute it looked like an invitation as my mind went back to our recent call where I seriously contemplated phone sex with her. But that was my perverted hornball mind at work and had nothing to do with reality.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” Denise said. “I’ll bring some for y’all too.”

“Thanks, babe.” I gave her a squeeze and a peck on the cheek, physically reminding myself who I was with. Then she left.

Mia led me to a secluded alcove in the corner of the waiting area where we could still keep an eye on the operating room door and punched in the number.

“Hello, Mrs. Fontanna? My name is Mia Lane and I’m the Nursing Director of the emergency room at Mass General Hospital in Boston.” She paused to listen a beat. I couldn’t hear the words on the other end, but they sounded distressed. No doubt his mother and father had been watching the game. I knew Coach called them, but since he wasn’t here now and didn’t know the latest, it was a good idea to give them the update straight from the hospital. Though I was surprised she introduced herself as a hospital official instead of Tate’s date.

I listened to her reassure his parents and then after a few exchanges she handed over the phone to me.

“Mrs. Fontanna, Gabe Wyatt here. Don’t you worry about your son waking up alone in the hospital. I’m here now and I’m sure many of his teammates will be joining me for a visit, even though he won’t be here long. We’ll keep him company, make sure he’s taken care of.”

She sounded relieved and said it would be a few days before they could make arrangements for one of them to get here to help him. I knew his parents had their hands full with their restaurant back home, so I wasn’t surprised. She asked me my favorite burger and she promised to bring me one of their specials. We said our goodbyes and I handed the phone back to Mia.

She’d been watching me, staring the whole time I’d been talking, but I kept my eyes averted so I could concentrate on my conversation. Her eyes, her face, were too distracting. Her whole being was a giant distraction to my focus on whatever else I needed to focus on when she was in the room. Hell, sometimes even when she was nowhere except in my head.

Fuck.

“Why didn’t you tell them you were his date?” That changed the look on her face from admiring to surprised in a nanosecond. My heart hammered, needing to hear how she felt for real, deep down, no hedging. Her professional demeanor rescued her in no time as her face went politely neutral.

She shrugged. “We’re not—”

“Sleeping together?” I finished for her, hoping my relief didn’t show and feeling like a hypocrite. I’d fixed them up so they would sleep together, cement the deal, become lovers and never look back. Especially Mia, hoping she’d never look back at me, the way she was looking at me now with those startlingly gorgeous brown eyes, wide and deep.

She shook her head once, confirming my suspicion, and then said, “We’re just friends. I think that’s all we’ll be.” Then with a brighter, false voice, she added, “Sorry to disappoint you, Wyatt, but your matchmaking skills suck.”

I put a hand on the wall behind her then, trapping her, not inclined to let her get away with half-truths, needing to get things between us out into the open.

“Why just friends?” My voice was quiet, but intense, demanding.

She looked caught, a little panicked. My blood stirred, muscles tightened, as if preparing to be assaulted. As if the truth might hurt me. Tension had my heart speeding up.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged and turned away from me. I put my hand on her chin and gently turned her face back to mine.

“Yes you do. Tell me.”