Page 83 of All That Glitters

As soon as Jameson hit the ice, I knew something was wrong. I felt it in my gut. And that feeling was confirmed when he didn’t get up right away. My heart is pounding in my chest as I look from my phone to the TV, waiting for one of the devices to tell me what’s going on.

“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asks as she enters the living room. She’s been baking cookies in the kitchen, coming out occasionally to check the score.

I look up from my spot on the couch.

“Jameson got hurt, but I don’t know how bad or what’s happening.”

I should be there. Instead, I’m working on an article that means nothing in comparison to him. I think back to our last conversations, and my stomach turns uneasy. I know he’s not dying or anything, but I hate that he’s hurt while we’re not in agreement.

“Marigold.” Jasmine’s voice breaks into my thoughts. She sets her hands on my shoulders. “Breathe. He’s going to be okay. I’m sure he’ll call soon, or the announcers will say something. Did you see what happened?”

I draw in a breath. “One of the other players tripped him, and he came down awkwardly on his bad knee. I’m worried that he tore something. He’ll be so upset if that happens.”

Jasmine gives me an understanding look. She’s dating an athlete in an injury-prone sport as well, so she knows what it’s like to worry about things like this.

“Bash is friends with the orthopedic doctor on staff here,” Jasmine says, her eyes lighting at the thought. “I can call him and see about getting any information?”

Bash, a.k.a. Sebastian Holt, is a part of Jasmine’s family—though I can never keep up with how—and he’s also the head football coach here at the university.

“I would love that,” I tell her with a small smile. “I think I’ll call his mom to see if she knows anything.”

Jasmine nods. “That sounds like a good plan. Let me go grab my phone!”

She rushes into the kitchen and I pull up Rose’s number. The phone rings once before she answers.

“Is he okay?” she asks in a rush.

My heart sinks. That means she doesn’t know anything.

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’m not at the game, and I haven’t gotten any texts or calls.”

“I tried calling him but I didn’t get an answer. I’m not sure if he has his phone. We’re his emergency contact, so I expect to hear from someone soon, but I hate waiting,” Rose frets.

“I’m sorry, I wish I had more answers. I stayed home to work on a project.”

“Don’t be sorry, little flower. You aren’t the jerk who tripped him.”

I laugh a little at the venom in her sweet voice.

“I just feel like I should have been there. Maybe if I was, I’d have better information.”

“You couldn’t have known what was happening. And school is more important than making it to every game. He’s going to have hundreds more.”

My guilt grows heavier. Was working on the paper more important than supporting Jameson? If it was my dream the answer would feel less … awful. But Jameson’s words have been pricking at my conscience and making me wonder if I made the right choice.

Jasmine comes back into the room, phone pressed to her ear.

“Bash says he can’t legally ask Dr. St. James to give any of Jameson’s information, but that the protocol in situations like this is usually a hospital visit for tests. His parents should hear from someone soon if they’re his emergency contact.”

“Thank you,” I tell Jasmine, and then relay her words to Rose.

“Oh that’s good to know. I think we’ll head to the hospital closest to the university since it’ll take us a little while. Are you going to visit? I can let the doctor know when they call to let you back if they’ll allow it,” Rose says.

“I’ll head there now. Hopefully you hear back soon,” I reply as I stand up off the couch.

“I’ll text you any info I get as soon as I have it.”

We say our goodbyes and then end the call.