The Queen B* and the Homecoming King Page 9

  I blotted my eyes and forced my tears to dry up, but I couldn’t erase the cold panic that clawed at my insides. What if they had to amputate his foot? His leg? What if he bled to death? Dozens of horrific scenarios played through my mind with each desperate beat of my heart. I’d never cared so much about someone outside my immediate family, and the realization nearly shattered what I had left of my defenses. I cared about Brett more than I’d ever dreamed possible. The ache in the center of my chest grew as I peered past the crowd at the group huddled around him.

  Finally, the circle of people kneeling around Brett stood, and a stretcher emerged from their midst. A towel had been thrown over the injured leg, but Brett was sitting up, awake. A weak smile played upon his pale face, and he gave everyone a half-hearted thumbs-up.

  Holy crap. Brett was probably in the worse pain of his life, and he was putting on a brave face for the team.

  “See?” Richard said, passing me another tissue from the small pack in his coat pocket. “Brett’s going to be just fine.”

  Would he be fine? Even though he smiled, I noticed his ashen color and the way sweat dripped down the sides of his face. His gaze met mine, and I saw the fear flickering in his eyes. Now I was the one trying to put on the brave face, if only to give him hope.

  The stretcher hit a bump, and he grabbed the railing in a white-knuckled grip. Just as he’d claimed he knew when I was hiding something, the same went with me. He was hiding his pain, his panic, and acting like the team leader he’d fashioned himself to be.

  The blinding flash of cameras followed him as the EMTs loaded the stretcher into the ambulance, and fire sizzled along my skin. I welcomed the rush of anger over the cold dread I’d felt moments before. Anger, I could handle. I knew what to do and how to act with that emotion.

  I fixed my mask of disgust in place and let my ire leak into my voice. “Geez, people! He’s hurt, and they’re turning this into some kind of media circus.”

  I hurried toward the gate that would let me onto the field. My hands balled into fists, and I envisioned punching each and every reporter, followed by the Skylake player who’d tackled Brett. But when I got there, the EMTs were closing the doors to the ambulance and driving off the field.

  My body went numb as I watched them drive away. I didn’t get a chance to see Brett. I didn’t get a chance to tell him to stay strong. I didn’t get a chance to tell him how much he meant to me.

  Mr. Pederson jogged off the field toward the parking lot, too busy talking to someone on the phone to notice me. However, other people did. As soon as I peeled my gaze away from the flashing red lights fading into the foggy night, a creeping sense of paranoia came over me. Summer was staring at me. Sanchez was staring at me, along with Ren and Fata and Taylor and just about anyone else who had ties to Brett. I read each of their faces and saw everything from jealousy to concern to sympathy. As his girlfriend, I’d become the lightning rod for their emotions, and I channeled each and every one of them.

  Brett was at the heart of the team, and I’d become the person closest to him.

  The weight of the last ten minutes shook my core, but I tried my best to mirror Brett’s actions. I held my head up, gave them all a weak smile, and walked away from the game before the jumble of emotions storming inside me poured out from my eyes again for everyone to see.

  I couldn’t handle going to the hospital and seeing Brett in this much pain. I doubt they’d even let me near him until he was stable. But I could do something else in the meantime.

  I went to his house and rang the doorbell. His mother answered the door, her eyes as red-rimmed as my own. “Alexis, how good to see you,” she said, even though her voice quivered. Mrs. Pederson was Indian, and her British accent added a certain level of properness to everything she said. It also masked a mother’s worry in hospitable decorum.

  “I was wondering if you’d heard anything about Brett.”

  Relief flooded her face and escaped in a stray tear. She wiped it away and stiffened her shoulders. “I’m still waiting for updates from Tom. I would be there myself, but…” Her words trailed off as she glanced up the darkened staircase. “Sarah is spending the night with a friend, and I don’t want to ruin her evening over this.”

  I pieced together what she wasn’t saying. “I can stay with the twins, if you’re okay with that.”

  “You don’t mind?” she asked in almost disbelief.

  I shook my head. “I’ll just crash on the couch until you come back.”

  This way, not only would I feel like I was doing something useful, I’d be the first to find out anything once she got home.

  Mrs. Pederson was already grabbing her jacket and purse. Her car keys jangled in the otherwise silent home. “Thank you so much, Alexis.”

  She rushed out the door and tore out of the driveway in record speed.

  But then, how else would a worried mother act?

  The house was calm and quiet, a contrast to how the evening had gone so far, and I allowed the stillness to seep into my worried soul to calm it. After I sent my mom a text message letting her know where I was, I went upstairs to check on the twins, their adorable faces serene as they slept. Then I stopped by Brett’s room and sat on the edge of his bed.

  What should’ve been the best of night of his life had ended in tragedy, and I had no idea what I could do to help him when it was over.

  I reached for his pillow. It smelled like him, and as I drew in the scent, it triggered an onslaught of memories, from the first moment I became aware of him to the kiss I’d given him before the game to the utter helplessness that clawed at my insides as he lay there on the field in pain.

  I hugged his pillow even tighter and carried it with me downstairs to the sofa, wishing I could erase the images from this evening from my head. It would be hours before I’d know how Brett was doing, and worry held me prisoner well into the night.

  Chapter Ten

  Despite my nearly sleepless night, I was up with the sun and stumbled into the kitchen to find Brett’s mom nursing a cup of coffee.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” she whispered before rising to pour me a cup. “Cream and sugar?”

  “Both, please.” I reached for the sugar bowl and dumped two spoonfuls into my cup.

  She paused in front of the family photo stuck on the refrigerator door. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell them.”

  I nodded. Brett was everything to those little girls, from expert pancake flipper to occasional pony. How would they handle news?

  “He’s in surgery right now,” Mrs. Pederson continued after setting the carton of half-and-half in front of me. Her hands tumbled over each other in a nervous manner, and she rocked back and forth on her feet. “I’m still waiting for a phone call from his father about the outcome.”

  The panic from the night before pierced my chest and drove the air from my lungs. “Was it that bad?”

  “Oh no, dear,” she replied quickly, placing out a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “They are just fixing the break with a little hardware. If everything goes well, he might come home as early as tonight.”

  I sucked in a relieved breath. He wasn’t near death. They weren’t going to cut off his leg. And he might even come home today. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “I know you must be as worried about him as I am.” His mom pulled me into a brief hug and took a step back when she released me. “Why don’t you go home and take a nap? Sarah will be home soon, and I can handle the twins until then.”

  I was being dismissed and left with the same state of uncertainty as last night. “Could you please give me a text or call with updates?”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Pederson got my number and entered it into her phone.

  It was at that moment the twins dashed into the kitchen and stopped in front of me, their heads cocked to the side, their faces wearing identical expressions of curiosity.

  “Are you here to braid our hair?” Evie asked.

  “No, she is here to
ask about your brother.” Mrs. Pederson shooed them back, but Bitsy swerved around her.

  “Brett’s not here.”

  “Yeah,” Evie chimed in. “He promised to make us special pancakes before he left with Daddy, and his bed was empty.”

  “We thought he was already down here making them,” Bitsy continued.

  I’d forgotten all about his trip to California to look at schools. With his injury, would he still have offers to play at other schools? Or were his chances of getting a football scholarship now next to nothing?

  Mrs. Pederson gave me an apologetic glance as she took Bitsy’s hand and led her to the table. “Come along, girls. I’ll make you some special pancakes.”

  “But you always make them too thin,” Evie said with a sulk. She turned a hopeful glance toward me, but I shook my head.

  “I burn pancakes.” I’m sure it had something to do with the fact that my mother was about as domestic as a corporate CEO. We had pots and pans that were still in their boxes from three Christmases ago.

  “Say good-bye, girls.” Mrs. Pederson led me to the front door, pausing to whisper, “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

  The sun was shining, and the day promised to be crisp and dry, unlike last night. I drove back to my house filled with an odd sense of worry and relief. Brett wasn’t dying, but he wasn’t completely out of the woods yet, either. And I wouldn’t know how he was really doing until I had a chance to see him myself.

  My mom and sister were still asleep when I got home and I was wide awake thanks to the jolt of caffeine and sugar I’d gotten at Brett’s house, so I decided to surf the web. I ended up looking at colleges and wondering if there was a chance Brett and I could end up at the same school after graduation. After spending an hour looking at West Coast schools, though, I lost focus. I squirmed in my chair, filled with an odd sense of being cooped up, and I decided to tackle one problem to get my mind off another.

  I drove to Morgan’s house and formed a game plan to confront her. I doubted she’d be up before noon, but if I wanted to catch her before she hid out in some library all day, I needed to get there early in the morning. I pulled into her driveway next to her car and sat for a few minutes, going over everything I needed to say. I’d apologize, admit I was wrong, and promise never to do it again. I’d add that no guy was worth losing a good friend like her. If the humility act went over well, then we’d be friends again by lunch. I got out and rang her doorbell.

  Her mom answered wearing a designer yoga outfit. Her face was so wrinkle-free from Botox (thanks to my mom), it had lost any expressiveness, so I couldn’t tell if she was happy or surprised to see me. “Alexis, come inside.”

  I stepped into the ostentatious three-story foyer and swallowed my pride. “Is Morgan up?”

  “I think I might have heard her stirring. Let me check.”

  It wasn’t a “head on up,” so I suspect her mom knew of our spat. I waited by the door while she went up the curved staircase to the second floor. A muffled conversation followed, growing louder and louder until a door opened with a bang and heavy footsteps thumped overhead.

  Morgan appeared at the top of the stairs, her face twisted in fury. “Go the fuck away.”

  I never dreamed I’d have to use my Queen B* powers on my best friend, but I crossed my arms and added an extra dose of hardness to my tone. “Not until I have a chance to tell you what really happened.”

  “I already know what happened.” She came down a few more steps, clinging to the railing. She was still dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms, but a glance revealed a few missing piercings and a new dye job. Gone was the sleek black-to-red ombre look she’d sported last week. In its place was a headful of platinum blond waves that were the closest to her natural color than anything she’d worn in the last four years. “You were a selfish, backstabbing slut who embodied everything I thought you stood against.”

  “Morgan, please, you only heard his twisted side of things.”

  She let go of the railing long enough to mirror my unyielding posture, but she didn’t come any closer. “Fine. Do you deny you went out with him?”

  Ouch! She cut right to the heart of the matter. I could lie, but I didn’t want to damage our friendship further. But if I told the truth, would she even give me a chance to continue? I took a deep breath and said, “It was just a party.”

  “Bitch!” Morgan turned to run back up the stairs.

  I chased after her. “Morgan, please, do you really think I’d stupidly want someone like Gavin?”

  She turned around, her mouth hanging open. “Are you saying I’m stupid?”

  “No, I said I’d be stupid to want him, although after what he tried last week, I think any self-respecting woman would be stupid to want him.”

  She clamped her mouth closed so tightly, her chin quivered. At first, I thought it was from rage, but as the seconds passed, I spotted tears glistening in her eyes. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Alexis.”

  She ran back up the stairs, and the slamming of her door shook the crystal chandelier in the center of the foyer.

  Morgan’s mom appeared a moment later. “I’m sorry, Alexis. I figured if anyone could get through to her, it would be you, but…”

  My shoulders sagged, although more from frustration than defeat. “I’ll keep working on her.” I felt really bad that a douchebag like Gavin had come between us, but if I could only get her to listen to my side of the story, maybe…

  I glanced up the stairs one more time before I backed down. “Maybe she just needs a little more time to cool down. I’ll try again later this week.”

  “Mike and I are talking about forcing her to go to counseling, but we’re at a loss as to what for. All we know is that she hasn’t been acting like herself for several weeks now and it’s escalated since Monday.”

  Which was saying a lot. Morgan had adopted her goth-girl persona at the beginning of high school to rebel against her parents. Every piercing, every tattoo, every weird hair color was an act of defiance against the J. Crew-ness of her parents.

  A few weeks ago would’ve been around the time she went on her date with Gavin, but Monday was when she found out about my ill-fated date with him. My stomach did a series of queasy flops. Something told me her behavior could have less to do with me and more to do with him.

  I kept my mouth shut and nodded, letting myself out the door like I’d done hundreds of times before. Only this time, it was because Morgan had ordered me to leave and not because I needed to go home.

  On the drive back to my house, I considered every angle I could think of to explain why she wouldn’t talk to me, but I still couldn’t understand why she was being so stubborn. We’d had fights before, but they usually lasted less than a day. I could see the reason behind her anger, but I still couldn’t figure out why she refused to even hear me out.

  When I got home, there was a Tesla Model S sitting in the driveway, blocking my entrance to the garage. It was a car I’d seen before, but this was the first time it had been there in the daytime.

  Pete’s car.

  I just hoped I wouldn’t walk in on him and my mother fooling around again. It had been awkward enough to catch them both naked on the couch. Now, knowing that my mom was pregnant by him added a whole new level of ew! to the situation.

  The scene I walked in on today was a stark contrast to the prior encounter. For starters, they were both wearing clothes. My mom sat on a stool by the kitchen island, a mug of something warm cradled in her hands. Pete stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her middle, his chin resting on the top of her head. It was kind of sweet and endearing, in an older person sort of way.

  They both turned in my direction when I entered the kitchen, but Pete made no move to back away from my mom. It only confirmed what I’d feared from the moment Mom had admitted to dating him—that he was going to become a regular fixture in our lives.

  “Alexis, you’re home,” Mom said. She set her mug down and ran her arms over Pet
e’s before looking up at him adoringly. “I guess I should wake up Taylor.”

  She slid off the stool and went upstairs, leaving me alone with Pete.

  Neither one of us moved. Instead, we eyed each other with a mutual sense of wariness. I could see why my mom liked him. Pete was tall, muscular, attractive in a middle-aged sort of way. The term silver fox came to mind when I looked at him. He was also a well-known plastic surgeon in the area, so I could add “rich and successful” to the mix of his positive attributes. And, I could begrudgingly admit, he seemed to be utterly devoted to my mom. The fact he was standing in our kitchen spoke to that, since she’d probably told him about the positive pregnancy test by now.

  But he still threatened to upset the balance of my home life, and for that reason, I couldn’t welcome him with open arms into our family. I’d already ripped him a new one at brunch a few weeks ago, and I was more than ready to repeat it for what he’d done to my mother.

  He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I read about last night’s game in the paper. Your mom told me the quarterback is a friend of yours. Tough win.”

  I’d been so worried about Brett’s injury, I’d almost forgotten that Eastline had won the game on that play. “Yeah, Brett’s in surgery as we speak.”

  “He is?” Pete stood a bit straighter, and I almost believed his concern. “How bad was his injury?”

  “Bad enough for him to need surgery to fix it.” My mom returned to the kitchen, and I decided to leave out the part where his bone was jutting out of his skin last night. She’d puked too much this week without me giving her the visual.

  Mom sat back on the stool, and Pete resumed his lovey-dovey hold on her. “What were you two talking about?” she asked.

  “Brett,” I replied, leaving it at that.

  I was about to make a break for it when Taylor stumbled into the room with a giant yawn. She climbed up onto the stool next to Mom and laid her head on the counter with one arm outstretched. “What’s so important that you woke me up this early?”