Page 98 of Game Misconduct

“I don’t feel good,” he mumbles.

“I know.” I card a hand through his hair, my fingertips treading over the back of his head and then lower to the base of his skull. “How’s your pain?”

“Bad.” He gulps in air, breathing hard. “It’s never been this bad.”

“Call Vanessa,” I tell Annaliese, not looking at her. “We’re going to need a CT. We’ll have to rule out a bleed.” I keep my voice professional, but inside something cracks open, spreading heat and terror in equal measure. This is my job. I’m trained for this. I’ve watched multiple players ride a gurney out of this building.

None of them mattered like he does.

“On it.”

Since she’s already done the baseline testing, I don’t run through the questions again, even though I yearn to analyze his status firsthand. I start to pull away, but Nick catches my hand, pressing it to his stubble-covered cheek.

“I’m glad you’re here, Bex Marie,” he murmurs. His eyes fall closed, and I can’t resist cupping his cheek, running my thumb over the bridge of his nose.

“Can I talk to you?” Annaliese asks.

It’s not a question.

“We’ll be right back,” I tell him, before I force myself away. I follow her outside of the exam room, closing the door behind us with a quiet snick.

“What’s going on with you two?” she demands. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Do I need to talk to Coach and the GM?”

I blow out a breath. Thank goodness Vanessa talked some sense into me last week.

“We’re on file with HR. Management knows we’re together.”

Didn’t stop Jacky from giving me a minor interrogation. Coach Turner hasn’t acknowledged it, and as far as I know, nobody else on the team is aware. We’ll deal with that when we have to.

Her jaw drops. “You’re dating a player?”

“It’s not a fling. It’s the real thing.”

“If you’re together, you can’t be his doctor.” Her eyes pin me to the spot. “I can’t have you in that room.”

“I know. As soon as I walked in there, I knew.”

“Bex…”

“Please don’t keep me away.” My voice cracks. “I love him. And I—I have to tell him. I have to be there for him.”

She frowns. “You can’t treat him.”

“I don’t want to treat him. I just want to be there for him.”

She studies me for a long moment, hard eyes calculating.

“You can come with us to the ER as his support system, but you can’t be on his case. That means if I need a second opinion, I’ll be reaching out to an outside provider. And it means⁠—”

“I know,” I whisper. She can’t give me any details about his prognosis.

Two EMTs race down the hallway, rolling a squeaky stretcher behind them.

“Right this way,” Annaliese says, beckoning them closer.

In short order, Nick is loaded onto the gurney, and we’re bundled in the back of the ambulance. His hand reaches for me, and I lace our fingers together, comforting him the only way I know how.

“This isn’t my first rodeo, B,” he murmurs. His eyes are closed, even with the dimmed lights. “I’ll be fine.”