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“Okay, so it was just a hit. No big deal.”
“Hard enough to lose consciousness. You were breathing, though. We didn’t need an AED or anything like that. You started to come to when we got you in the ambulance, and now here we are.”
“Oh, god.” I feel sick, and I put my head in my hands. “June. Where’s June? Where the fuck is my daughter?”
“June is fine,” Shawn assures me. “Maverick has her. He took her to his apartment.”
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours? Days? Imagining her waiting for me all alone and confused makes me want to rip the door off the hinges and escape without looking back.
“What about Maven? I need to see Maven.”
“What?” he frowns. “Why do you need to see her?”
“Because I just—” I look around. “Where’s my phone?Shit.Can you call her? Can you get her here?”
“Calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I say fiercely, and I shrug his hand off my shoulder. “Where is she?”
“She’s in the waiting room. She came from the stadium.”
“Can you—please, let me see her.” I look at the doctor. “Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Dr. Anderson says, and I sigh in relief.
“Is there something you need to tell me, Lansfield, because now would be the time,” Shawn says, and it sounds like a warning. “I’m giving you the chance to come clean with me.”
I shake my head. I don’t have enough coherent thoughts to know my own name let alone what I need to tell him. “I just want Maven.”
He sighs but stands up. “Do not leave this room.”
When he disappears, I look up at the doctor. “How long am I out for?”
“You’ll enter the NFL’s concussion protocol. There are five phases, and movement between the phases is determined by the team’s medical staff. Players are typically out for nine days, but most come back the next week.”
“Am I going to have any permanent damage? Why did I lose consciousness? I’ve been playing football for decades, and I’ve taken way worse hits than that,” I say.
“The medical answer involves stress on the brain tissue and the electric discharge of nerve cells,” he explains.
“And the dumb person answer?”
“The body is delicate. I think it was a freak accident spurred on by a cheap shot and an awkward angle.”
“You saw it?” I ask.
“I might have been in the breakroom when it happened and the game might have been on.” His lips twitch. “As for permanent damage, I don’t see any cause for concern. You’ll have a headache for a few days. Light might bother you. Your short-term memory should come back soon, but it could be a few weeks.”
“Well, that’s lovely, isn’t it?” I grind my teeth together, but there’s nothing I can do about it now. “Is my neck okay?”
“It is, and you have full range of motion in your extremities.”
“Please don’t tell me I have to stay here overnight.”
“You don’t. I’m just waiting for your team personnel to get here and then I can discharge you.”
“Thanks. Sorry I’m being an ass. I appreciate your help.”
“You’re allowed to be frustrated.” The doctor smiles, and he tucks a pen in his coat pocket. “We played football against each other.”
