Score (Skin in the Game Book 1) (17 page)

I
knew
I was in a hospital, even before I opened my eyes.

The steady beeping of the heart monitor, the antiseptic smell, the mattress that was slightly softer than a brick—all of it told me
I wasn’t in Kappa anymore, Toto.

My throat was raw, and every muscle in my body ached. My skin burned. My head felt like a soccer ball after a game. I winced and swallowed and suddenly, it all came back to me. Renee. The cooler. Scraping at that cold metal floor and thinking I’d never survive another day.

I was alive.

My eyes blinked open, already full of tears. I squinted in the bright light of the hospital room. My gaze fell upon a painting of a beach scene in soothing, pale pastels, at the foot of the bed. I tried to sit up to see around me, but my temples thundered with pain. Right. Renee’d hit me. It all seemed like a crazy nightmare.

I reached up and touched a massive gauze pad on my forehead.
Nope. Not a nightmare.

I managed to shove up higher on my pillow so that I could get a look around. I was alone, but I could hear voices talking softly in the hallway outside. There was a cot set up near the window, strewn with blankets. I wondered who’d slept in it. My mother, most likely.

Somewhere in my dreams, though, I’d thought I’d heard Cal’s voice. Calling to me, telling me to hang on.

I looked around the room and found it empty and my heart sank a little. Clearly I’d been delirious. Or maybe it had been wishful thinking. There was no way Cal had found me there. How could he have? I had to assume Renee had finally come to her senses and changed her mind. But damn, did I wish Cal were here with me.

My throat ached with more unshed tears and I swallowed them back. I was alive. Surely, right now, that should be enough.

I started to reach for a glass of water on the table beside me to soothe my throat when Flora and my mother burst into the room with coffee cups in their hands.

“Oh, she’s up!” Flora said, smiling. “Hi!”

My mother flitted around the bed and grabbed the glass before I could, then brought the straw to my lips. “We left for not five minutes to grab a cuppa. I knew you’d wake up the second we left. How are you feeling?”

I took a sip of lukewarm water, and she started to fluff my pillows so I could sit up.

“I feel okay,” I said, searching the door to see if anyone else would pop through it. No one did, and my heart sunk.

“Your head hurt?”

“A little,” I answered, sniffing the air. The antiseptic had been replaced by the thick, delicious smell of hot cocoa. I began to salivate as I traced the scent to the Styrofoam cup in Flora’s hand. She held it aloft, along with a silver packet of Pop-Tarts.

My stomach rumbled. “Tell me that’s not a mirage.”

She put them on the bedside table and wheeled them over to me. “Nope. They’re the real deal.”

“I knew I loved you for a reason,” I said, touching the cup. Pain sliced its way up to my elbow. I yanked my hand away and inspected my fingertips. They were bright red.

“The doctors say you’ll have a little sensitivity in your extremities from the cold,” my mother said, opening the sleeve for me like I was a child. She broke a piece of Pop-Tart off and pushed it between my lips. “But you’re lucky. You’ll be fine. They just have to do a few more tests, and we have to keep an eye on you due to your concussion, and you can leave here tomorrow, hopefully.”

I nodded, chewing slowly. Yes, my health should’ve been the first thing I’d wondered about. But I felt stupid asking about the
real
first thing I’d wondered about once I’d realized I wasn’t in a wooden box underground. There was a good chance Cal was off somewhere totally oblivious to what had happened to me. After what I’d said to him, maybe he didn’t even care that his ex had tried to kill me. Still, I let my eyes creep toward the door, wishing,
willing
him to appear.

My mom planted her backside on the edge of my bed. “He’s not here,” she said softly.

“Oh, I know, I didn’t expect…” I looked at her face, and she was sporting that familiar, apologetic smile she always gave me whenever my dad would miss one of my meets. I realized she was talking about my father, not Cal. “Where is he?” I asked, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn’t like I wanted to see him, anyway. He had a way of making a bad day worse.

“Believe it or not, you’ve been in and out of it for more than twelve hours. It’s Saturday,” she said as if that explained it all. “But he’s going to be so happy you’re awake when I tell him!” She rubbed my foot gently beneath the blanket.

The hot cocoa burned my tongue but I swallowed it anyway because it masked the taste of bile in my throat.

Saturday. Playoff day for Dad’s favorite college team.

“Nice,” I muttered. “Well, we wouldn’t want him to miss a game full of strangers playing with a ball on the television set.”

My mother cleared her throat and looked away as Flora rubbed her hands and cleared her throat.

“Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers and heading for the door. “I’m going to go get myself a bagel. Be back in a few…”

“K,” I said, working up a smile for her, half-wishing I could call her back and avoid “the talk” I was surely about to endure, but half-glad not to have our family drama aired in front of more people I cared about.

She left the room and my mother reached over to stroke my hair.

“He really did want to come, Bee, but you know how he is...”

I was all ready to pull away. To open my mouth and lay my mom low for her pathetic excuses.

But then I saw them.

Two trails of dried tears in her carefully-applied make-up.

My mother was a pro at putting on the plastic smile and fussing with her make-up to hide even her darkest days.

But she couldn’t hide this time.

And it hit me.

My father didn’t have to care. Maybe she wasn’t good at showing it, and maybe she was a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but my mother cared enough for the two of them. My dad was an asshole. Nothing would make the leopard change his spots. My mom knew that, and she’d made peace with it for the sake of her marriage. That was her choice. And it was her life to lead.

For me? I had a mom. I had Flora. I had my health. That was a lot more than most people.

The bitterness that had been my constant companion, bubbling just beneath the surface, snuffed out like a suddenly dormant volcano and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest.

“Mom,” I said softly. “I just want to say thanks.”

She pulled away and studied me. “For what?”

I shrugged. “For being here. For being everywhere, when I needed you. What I said on Thursday, about you staying with Dad…I don’t think any less of you. In fact, I appreciate everything you’ve done, because I know a lot of it was for me. I might never think Dad’s a good parent, but you? I think you’re pretty awesome. And I love you.”

She hugged me, and more tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away. “I love you, too, dear. Now don’t make me mess my mascara again!” She stood, all aflutter, clearly desperate to escape and deal with her unseemly emotions in private. “I’m going to go for a little bit and let your young man have a chance to visit with you.”

I stared at her, mouth agape, sure I must’ve hit my head so hard I was hearing things. “My young man?”

She shook her head and furrowed her brow. “Yes. Callum?”

I couldn’t breathe. Then I looked down at my greasy hair and my hospital gown and ran my tongue over my teeth. I hadn’t brushed them in, well, forever.

“You mean, he’s here?” I squeaked out.

She nodded, and managed a teary smile. “He was here all night. They wouldn’t let all of us in the room so he slept in the waiting room.” She stepped to the door and said, “We really have him to thank that you’re all right. He’s the one who found you, you know.”

I blinked and I found myself back there again, in that cold desperate place with no hope of escape. I’d thought of him, over and over, thinking it would be a miracle for him to find me. But he had.

So it hadn’t been a dream. It
was
his voice I’d heard while I drifted in and out of consciousness. And he’d been with me all night, because that’s the type of person Cal was. The type of person he’d always shown himself to be.

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have ever doubted him?

“But—” I started, but just then there was a knock on the door.

She opened it, and my breath hitched.

He was still wearing his football pants and a t-shirt, like he’d just come from a game. He gave my mom a polite nod as she left and then turned to me, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. His t-shirt defined every muscle in his chest, and his face was shadowed with stubble.

He’d definitely had a rough night, but I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look hotter. Every inch of my body prickled with nerves and exhilaration, as if it was the first time I’d ever seen him.

I just stared, drinking him in as he smiled his little-boy smile at me.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

I nodded. He’d asked me a question but I couldn’t process it yet. I was too overcome with relief and sheer joy that he was here. “Er. Yeah.”

He laughed. Then he came up close to me and touched my chin, sending sizzles of electricity through me.

Until I realized he was wiping Pop-Tart crumbs off my chin.

My cheeks went hot
. I am so smooth.

I was about to make a stupid joke, but the laughter in his eyes faded and, in that moment, all I could see was stark pain and regret. He might be putting on a brave face for me, but he was far from okay.

“I’m so sorry, Bee. This was my fault.”

I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s my fault for ever doubting you. For pushing you away. If I hadn’t done that, you would’ve been with me and this never would’ve happened.”

“And then she would’ve just done it another night. Don’t try to make me feel better. I should’ve seen—” He broke off and let out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut.

I reached out and laid a hand on his chest. “I was witness to her crazy as much as you, Cal. And I didn’t see it coming either. There was no way to know she was going to take it that far. She’s sick.”

He started to protest, but I held up a hand.

“We can do this all day, but the whole time I was in that walk-in, I was thinking one thing. The last thing I said to you…” My eyes went hot with tears, and I let them roll, unchecked, down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. You offered to come to my parents’ and endure that mess and I treated you like garbage. I’m so sorry. The things I said? I’m an idiot. You’re perfect.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and glanced at me, surprised. “You think I’m perfect?”

Oh, god, had I really said that? Just because he didn’t want me dead didn’t mean he still wanted me.

Suddenly the floor became really, really interesting.
Change subject, stat.

“H-How did you know where to find me?”

He sat down on the edge of my bed. “I was at the game. I’d lost my phone at the bar after our fight, but I wanted to call you, just so I could smooth things over. I saw Flora and asked her if I could borrow her phone, and she gave me yours. She’d found it on your bed, and that’s when I saw the messages I’d never sent. Turned out I hadn’t lost my phone after all. Renee had taken it. I found her and forced her to tell me where you were.”

A shudder ran through me. What if she hadn’t gone to the game? And what if Cal hadn’t seen Flora?

The dozens of ways that this could’ve turned out far more tragic crowded my brain and I was feeling queasy.

“And she told you where I was?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think once it got through that I wasn’t going to be with her whether you were in the picture or not, she gave it up. Turns out she’s had paranoid episodes before. She’s in a mental health facility now, getting treatment. But I never believed…” He trailed off, and I knew he was going to apologize again.

I grabbed ahold of his hand. “Don’t. I don’t blame you, Cal.” I squeezed hard to show him I meant it when something hit me. “Wait. You missed the game? Your big game?”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Actually, I found out where she was keeping you, played my four quarters, then moseyed on over to the dining hall when it was convenient.”

Oh, god. My stomach churned. He’d given up the most important game of his life for me. The game that could’ve landed him his dream of being in the NFL.

I started to shake as the ramifications sunk in all at once.

“Jesus, Cal, why did you do that? You could’ve just called the police or something.”

He stared at me like I had noodles coming out of my ears. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Hey, guys, go get my girl while I play in this fucking game. She may be dying, but these are the playoffs we’re talking about here.”

I froze, thinking of my father. I guess that’s what I got for thinking all football players were alike. Still, this was his whole future. And he’d blown it clear out of the water because of me. “But there had to be a way. Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, told Coach where you were going and—”

“No, I couldn’t have,” he said, standing up and pacing, his jaw tight and tense.

“But why not? Maybe he could’ve—”

“No, he couldn’t do anything.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Cal’s face was thunderous as he stared down at me. “Don’t you get it, Bee? All that matters to me is that you’re okay. The rest of it will work out or it won’t. Just let me be here with you, and feed you Pop-Tarts and take care of you. That’s what I want to do. This is where I want to be.”

His eyes were burning bright with sincerity, and I wished I wasn’t hooked up to a bunch of machines, because I would’ve launched myself into his arms and hung on like a barnacle.

I bit my lip and slowly shook my head. “Do you even know if you guys won?”

He shrugged. “Nope. I was a little busy worried sick to check.”

“Cal!” I shouted, stunned that he could be so nonchalant about something that meant everything to him. If the Panthers won, he’d have another chance to impress the scouts in the next playoff game. “This is important. This is your life. Why wouldn’t you—”