Page 85 of Bone Deep
Spencer
Why isn’t anyone telling us anything? Why are we just sitting here? I rake my hand through my hair and glare at the closed double doors. Jen rubs my arm, soft and steady.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetie. They’re probably just getting him stabilized. They have to get him out of pain before they can assess treatment. Or at least that’s what they do on TV.”
I know she’s trying to make me feel better by lightening the mood, but it’s not working. I can’t even sit still. I shoot to my feet and start pacing, running a path in the cheap linoleum. “Well, they could at least come out and tell us something.”
Dita and Parker appear, arms overflowing with bottled water. Dita hands me one. “Drink this. Is there anything I can do for you, boss?”
I grip the bottle, twist off the cap, and shake my head. “No. Thank you, Dita. You don’t need to be here. You either, Parker. Go enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
Parker rolls his eyes. Dita pulls out her phone, thumb flying over the screen. “Fuck that. Your friend just got seriously injured. You need to focus on that. Parker and I will take care of everything else.”
A surge of gratitude tightens my throat. I try to smile. She doesn’t look up, fingers still tapping as she talks. “I’m clearing your schedule for tomorrow. Parker will take any meetings that can’t be moved and will send you a summary.”
I glance at Parker. He nods. “You got it. I’ll let you know if anything needs to be followed up on, otherwise, I got this—”
A muscular guy in scrubs struts by, glancing at Parker, giving his barely there shorts and crop top a very obvious once-over, and winking. Parker breaks off mid-sentence and follows him down the hall, hips swaying.
I just shake my head and sit down again between Lexi and Jen. Instantly, they’re both rubbing my arms, silent and soothing.
I look at them, feeling a little uneasy about the comfort. “Why do you guys keep comforting me? He’syourfriend. I should be comforting you.”
Anthony storms over, phone clutched in his hand, Chance hovering behind him. Anthony waves his phone at me, looking tired and exasperated. “Because he’s your friend too. And you clearly care about him. Or do I need to remind you about your theatrics on the field?” He gives me a look—one that brooks no argument.
I study the floor tiles and blow out a breath.
A man in athletic gear approaches. Anthony stands straighter and shakes the guy’s hand. “This is Franco Rizzaldi, he’s one of the team trainers,” he tells us.
He turns to Franco. “Have you heard anything?”
Franco nods. “A couple of us from the training staff rode in the ambulance with him.”
I shoot up. “I don’t care how you got here. How is he? What’s going on?”
Anthony raises a brow at me but keeps quiet. Franco huffs a laugh. “I’m not going to lie. It was a bad break. Broke the skin.”
Chance winces. My stomach drops, sour and cold. Anthony keeps his voice even. “What bones? Surgery?”
Franco nods. “It’s a tibia and fibula compound fracture. They’re prepping him for surgery now. They called in the best orthopedic surgeon in the state.”
Anthony nods, businesslike. “How’s his mental state?”
Franco grins. “You know how he is normally?”
Anthony smiles, just a little. Franco goes on, “Well, add in some good pain meds and he has nurses, doctors, even other patients in the ED cracking up.”
Anthony chuckles. “Sounds about Butters.”
Franco rubs his chin, thoughtful. “One thing though. He keeps asking for perfect.”
My heart skips, squeezing hard in my chest. Franco continues, “The doctors and nurses kept reassuring him they’re going to do their best to fix him up good as new, but they never promise perfect. But he kept shaking his head, insisting he wanted perfect.”
I swallow. Fucking hard.
“Finally, he said, ‘No, I want Spence. Spence is Mr. Perfect.’ Can, um, one of you get Spence?”
Everyone turns to stare at me, eyes wide. My face burns. I sigh. “That’s me. When can we see him?”
