Page 39 of Forever Relentless

“Spence!”

The command was sharp and angry as our head coach shouted down the hallway.

“Yes, Coach?” Dante didn’t turn around, and we didn’t stop walking.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping a teammate to the medical wing, Coach.” Dante kept his face straight and his eyes forward.

“That’s not your call!”

“It’s my call,” I shouted back, turning my head to meet the coach’s angry glare. “Unless having the freshman bleed all over the locker room and pass out was what you wanted?”

“Careful,” Dante murmured on the other side of Mike.

“Whittaker, are you going to pass out?” Sutherland demanded.

“Might,” Mike answered honestly. “Feel kind of funny.”

Diana, the new PT, came out of a training room, took one look at Mike, and hurried over. “What happened to you?”

“Got my ass kicked,” Mike told her. “Garrett Benoit started talking shit, I swung, he swung harder.” He sloped slightly to the side, and I tightened my grip on his arm.

“Dante?” she asked, guiding us into the room.

“I think he’s got a concussion. He thinks his hand is broken.”

“What the hell is happening in here?” Coach Sutherland appeared in the doorway, angry and ready to bite anyone’s head off.

Diana dipped her head and started examining Mike. “He’s going to need a doctor,” she said with a frown. She looked up and met Dante’s gaze. “Can you get me one?”

“On it.”

She glanced my way, and there was something familiar in her stare that made me move a little closer.

“Matthews, why are you here?” Coach asked me.

“Saw the state of Whittaker, wasn’t sure why he wasn’t already in here.” I met my coach’s stare with a blank one of my own. Most of my teammates got nervous when Sutherland got angry. I got calmer.

“Don’t leave me.” It was said so softly, I almost didn’t catch it, and I almost reacted to her soft plea. Cold understanding settled in my chest.

Fear. Not Mike’s. Hers.

“What happened?” I asked Coach. “He said Benoit did this to him? They were fighting?”

Coach stalked into the room, and Diana moved closer to me while she assessed Mike. Mike, who was so glassy-eyed and disoriented — if he didn’t have a concussion, I’d be a monkey’s uncle.

Coach Sutherland took one look at Mike and frowned. “He didn’t look this bad out there,” he admitted with a derisive sniff.

“In daylight and training lights, he looked better than right now?” I asked skeptically.

Coach glared at me. “He had his helmet on.”

“He couldn’t have,” I snapped back. “Your face doesn’t look like this when something is covering your head.”

“Well, he must have done it to himself.”

Even Diana looked up at him in surprise.