Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (31 page)

I’m stunned by all of this, but it does make sense. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say to her.
Hi, it’s great to meet you. So glad that you aren’t sleeping with my fiancé like everyone thinks you are?

But I guess I’ll have to come up with something. Because even if I refuse to be in a photo with her, she’s still going to be in the box and I’m going to have to speak to her.

“Yeah, sure,” I say to Amanda as we begin moving through the stadium’s service passages again.

“Thanks so much for being cool about all of this,” she says. “You’re being a real trooper.”

I know that Willa, and maybe even Sophie, would make some sort of Stormtrooper reference here, but I’ve got nothing. Except for a headache I haven’t been able to shake that is sharpening across the top of my skull.

“Do you have any aspirin?” I ask Amanda, wanting to nip this headache in the bud.

“Yeah,” she says, reaching into her bag. “You doing okay?”

“Starting to get a headache,” I say.

“My sister gets migraines when the barometric pressure changes drastically,” Amanda says, handing me the bottle and looking sympathetic. “Hopefully the aspirin will knock it out.”

When I hand her back the bottle and swallow the pills, we head to the elevator that takes us to the suites. When the elevator opens, she leads me to a box that sits right above the fifty-yard line.

“This is us,” she says, opening the door and revealing a large, plush room with tables of food lined up against one wall, a bar in one corner, enormous leather seats, and a sound system that brings in the noise from outside as well as the announcer into the box. “Nicer than the ones you’ve seen at the away games, right?”

“Definitely,” I say.

“Mariella is already here. Do you want to get the photo over with now?”

“Sure,” I say, figuring I should do it while my hair and makeup is still fresh.

Amanda leads me through the crowd and over to where Mariella is talking with Brandi, whom I met at the Montgomerys’ cookout during the summer.

“Mariella, Brandi,” Amanda says brightly. “You ladies are both looking lovely today.”

They turn their attention to us and I watch Mariella with interest. She obviously recognizes me and it’s clear that Amanda did not prep her for this.

“Courtney!” Brandi says. “You look stunning. Are you dieting?”

“A little,” I say, smiling.

“You have to share what you’re doing with me. My diet has gone stale, I’m afraid, and I’m dying for something new that actually works.”

I smile and Amanda says, “Mariella, I’d like to introduce you to Courtney Narducci, Adam Kistler’s fiancée.”

I hold my hand out and say, “It’s so great to meet you,” and am aware of Amanda slipping away from my side. Mariella shakes my hand with a surprisingly firm grip and says, “Likewise. I’m so sorry about everything that has been in the news this week.” From just this exchange, I can tell that she’s going to be cool and not awkward or catty about this. It’s possible she’s been through more shit this week because of that photo than I have.

I can hear the photographer clicking away somewhere out of eyesight and I smile and say, “Don’t even worry about it. We can’t control what the media does.”

“We sure as hell can’t,” she says. “But I’m guessing that this little situation right here is going to get a good amount of attention.”

“Amanda seems to be pretty good at her job, so I’m guessing that it will.”

“Well,” Mariella says, “hopefully it’s spun the way she wants it to be and the story doesn’t become Adam Kistler Clearly Has a Type.”

I laugh sincerely at this and say, “My friends said the same thing. They were shocked by how much we resemble each other. With the exception of your rocking thighs, of course.”

She laughs and says, “I’m a yoga teacher and massage therapist. It’s my job to have rocking thighs. And judging by the look of you, you probably have rocking thighs, too.”

“Getting there,” I say, smiling.

Melissa comes over and says, “Courtney, it’s so nice to see you. You too, Brandi.”

Brandi beams at Melissa and then says, “Melissa, Mariella is one of the best yoga teachers in the city. You have to take one of her classes. She’ll destroy you in power yoga.”

I raise my eyebrows and then Melissa says, “So you’re Mariella. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure yet.”

The two women continue with the introductions and I have a moment to take stock of my headache, which has only increased. Now that I’m really paying attention to my body, I notice that I’m not feeling well at all. My legs feel a bit shaky. But that’s probably just from all of the attention. Now that I’ve met Mariella and it’s clear that she’s cool, my nerves will stabilize, the aspirin will kick in, and all will be well.

A few of the other significant others come over, and it’s more than just Brandi wanting my diet and exercise regimen. When I tell them that I’m essentially on the Paleo diet, I leave out the fact that I went rogue all last week and have only eaten non-meat proteins and superfoods. Most likely they would applaud this, but now that I’m thinking about it, it was a really dumb thing to do.

My stomach grumbles and I look toward the food table. The sight of the chicken wings makes my mouth water, but I know that since there are cameras absolutely everywhere, I should probably stick to veggies and fruit. When I start to make my way over there, the sound system kicks in and we’re informed that the pregame festivities are beginning.

Everyone crowds toward the front of the box to watch the teams run onto the field, and some pageant queen sings the national anthem before kickoff. This is the perfect opportunity to sneak some food.

But I don’t do it. There are live television cameras on now. After all the good that it seems this weekend might be doing, I don’t want to ruin that with a candid photo of me shoveling food down my gullet. I join the others and for the pregame, where the Seahawks win the coin toss and elect to receive, and then watch, with horror, as they score on their opening drive.

This does not bode well.

When Adam and the rest of the offense takes the field, they move the ball but don’t get anywhere near the end zone. As the Seahawks take their second possession, I pray that it doesn’t go the way of their first. The defense is able to hold them, and it’s clear that this is going to be a purely defensive game.

When the second quarter starts, my headache has intensified, and my stomach is churning, begging for food. As I move to finally give in, I hear the crowd roar and I turn my attention back to the field.

Jax has lobbed the ball downfield and I watch as Adam catches it in the red zone.

Not one defender is anywhere near him.

I begin yelling and clapping and jumping, screaming for him to go and run and get the ball in the end zone. And he does. I throw my hands up in a touchdown sign above my head and the rest of the box explodes with noise. I’m being hugged by everyone around me and I see on the television screen in the corner that
I’m
on the freaking TV.

It’s weird, seeing yourself on live television.

I pull my attention away from the screen and smile at Melissa, who is standing beside me.

“Our guys are pretty impressive.”

“They sure are,” I say, smiling at her.

The extra point is good, and during the break between plays, the network goes to commercial.

I desperately need to eat. I turn to make my way toward the food, but as I take a step, I feel like my knees are going to buckle and I grab the back of the chair one of the players’ kids is sitting in. Melissa sees this and quietly asks, “Are you okay?”

I stay still for a minute, hoping that I can get my bearings again, but the throbbing in my head increases and I’m not feeling any less shaky. Then, terrifyingly, my vision begins to dim.

“No,” I say. “I don’t think I am.”

“What’s going on?”

“I think maybe I’m about to faint.”

“Okay,” she says calmly. “We need to get you in a chair. There’s an empty one two rows away. It’s just a couple steps. Do you think you can make it?”

I inhale deeply and when I exhale, try to nod. But that makes everything that much worse.

“I don’t know,” I say.

“That’s fine,” she says in her calm, quiet voice. “Just stay right where you are. I’ll get you a chair. What else can I do?”

I start to tell her that I need water and something—anything—to eat, but as I start to open my mouth I hear someone say, “There you two are.”

I turn to look at the speaker and when I do, the sudden movement brings on a pang so sharp in my head that I yelp at the pain and bring a hand to my head.

“Are you okay?” the speaker says loudly, and I’m sure that everyone in the box is now looking at me as I try to fight whatever this is. I feel hot and clammy all of a sudden, on top of everything else, and I open my mouth to tell everyone I’m okay, but as soon as I try to change the direction of my glance, the entire world goes black.

I start to panic and I’m aware that I’m losing consciousness, little by little.

As I begin to crumple to the floor, all I can think is that I hope the cameras aren’t on the box.

Adam

The mood in the locker room is somber after the game. It’s our first loss of the season. We fought hard, but we just couldn’t pull a win out.

Coach says a few words to us and it remains quiet as we all get showered and changed. When I’m out of the locker room, Amanda walks over to me and says, “Come with me.”

I furrow my brow and ask, “Why?”

“Just come with me,” she repeats, something flashing in her eyes that tells me I better do as she says. So I do. When we get to her office she closes the door turns to face me. “You need to sit.”

I sit on the couch in her office and she says, “During the game, Courtney passed out in the box.”

“What?” I roar, everything around me sharpening as all my adrenaline comes rushing into my body.

Amanda holds up her hand and continues. “She’s currently in the emergency room, and Melissa is with her. Her parents have been notified and are on their way here.”

My head is swimming with this information.

“When did this happen?”

“Shortly after you scored during the second quarter.”

“And no one told me during halftime?” I yell in disbelief.

“We were busy making sure she was okay and weren’t exactly sure what the situation was yet. It didn’t seem prudent to tell you in the middle of the game.”

I cover my face and growl into my hands. “So what is the situation?”

“The doctors are running tests. Her heartbeat was weak and erratic, and her breathing was shallow when they admitted her.”

“That makes it sound like she’s dying,” I say. “Oh my God, is she dying?”

“She’s stable,” Amanda says. “She’s going to be fine. I’m going to take you to the hospital now.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Good. Yeah.”

We head out to her car and drive in silence. My mind has started coming up with terrifying diseases that Courtney could be suffering from and that have caused this. I need to shut down my brain. Because it is seriously not helping.

When we pull up to the hospital, Amanda drops me at the front and tells me that she’s going to park and will be in the waiting room. I walk in, feeling strangely out of body, and up to the reception area.

“Hello,” a middle-aged woman says. “Can I help you with something?”

I nod and say, “I’m looking for Courtney Narducci. She’s a patient here.”

She smiles warmly and says, “Miss Narducci is currently resting. May I ask your relation?”

“I’m her fiancé,” I say, wishing there was some way to prove that information. Luckily, Melissa appears seemingly out of thin air beside me and says, “Adam, I’m so glad you’re here.”

She turns to the receptionist and says, “This is Courtney Narducci’s fiancé.”

“We’ve just met,” the woman says congenially. “Let me find the doctor and he can fill you in on everything.”

“Melissa, what the hell is going on?” I ask when the woman goes to look for the doctor.

“Courtney passed out in the suite,” she says. “When it was clear that she was completely unconscious and not just a little bit faint, I called 911 and then Amanda to let her know what was going on.”

“Did she pass out randomly?”

“Sort of,” Melissa says. “She was chatting with everyone and watching the game. I had realized she was starting to look a bit peaky, but thought maybe she was just warm. She started walking away from the front of the box after you scored in the second quarter, and I could tell that something was wrong. So I asked her and she told me she wasn’t feeling well—it seemed as if her head was hurting and she was having a hard time staying on her feet. She said that she didn’t think she could make it to the chair that was nearly right in front of her and then shortly thereafter just crumpled to the floor.”

I shake my head. This is insane. How could this have happened? People don’t just have headaches, seem weak, and pass out for no reason.

“Have the doctors said anything to you?” I ask.

Melissa shakes her head. “I’ve been here the whole time, but since I’m not family, I haven’t been told anything. To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything to tell—they took some blood and her vitals when she arrived and then wheeled her into a room. The nice lady here at the desk told me that she’s asleep and they have her on an IV.”

“Here they are,” the woman from the front desk says as she comes down a hallway, followed by a young-looking doctor.

“I’m Dr. Ramamurthy,” the man says. “Rita tells me that you’re Ms. Narducci’s fiancé?”

“Yes, I’m Adam Kistler. Courtney’s parents are on their way down from Missouri.” I add that last bit in, hoping it makes me sound more legitimate. I have no idea if fiancés are considered immediate family or not.

“Great,” he says. “Well, it seems that Courtney is pretty undernourished. We’re not sure the extent yet, but we have her on an IV cocktail of vitamins and nutrients that are going to replenish her body and give her some more strength. Do you know if she was crash dieting, or maybe fasting?”

“She’s been dieting the last couple months,” I say. “The diet has become more and more restrictive, and lately it seems as if she’s been trying to eat as little as possible. And she works out a lot.”

“How much weight has she lost, do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling stupid. I’m her fiancé. I’m supposed to know these kinds of things.

“But it’s a visible difference?” the doctor asks.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he says. “This is all very helpful. We should have some answers when we get her labs back. If you want to go back and sit with her, you can.”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll wait out here,” Melissa says and I nod, grateful that she’s been with Courtney and is here now.

I follow the doctor down the hall to the corridor of narrow, curtained bays that act as hospital rooms in the emergency room wing. The doctor pulls back a white curtain and nods when I move into the small space, where my fiancée is lying in a hospital bed and hooked up to an IV and a heart monitor. I know that she’s okay, that this isn’t a car accident or a gunshot  wound, but the sight of her there grabs my heart like a vice grip and I feel tears in my eyes.

If I thought I felt helpless earlier, it had nothing on this feeling now.

I sag into the small chair beside the bed and don’t know what to do. In movies, people always hold the patient’s hand, but it seems strange to do that. I don’t want to touch her, just in case I bump the needle in the top of her hand.

So I just sit there. For a long time.

Finally, the doctor comes back in and says, “Well, it looks like Courtney here is just malnourished. Her body didn’t have enough of what it needs to keep going so it started shutting down and forced her to pass out.”

“Jesus,” I say.

“It’s not great, but I don’t think there’s any extensive internal damage. You said that this crash dieting is recent?”

“Yes.”

He clicks his pen and writes something on the chart he’s holding. “She should be fine. When she wakes up, she’ll feel better and I’ll have a nutritionist speak with her tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask.

The doctor nods and says, “I think it’s best that she stays overnight. We’ll admit her and she’ll be transferred out of the ER. Then tomorrow we can assess everything and figure out a plan.”

I nod and thank the doctor, and he tells me that someone will be in to transfer her when the paperwork is processed, so in about an hour. When he leaves I realize that I need to update her family. I dig through my bag for my phone and see that I have tons of missed calls and texts, some frantic, from Courtney’s friends, her brothers, and my mom.

Not really knowing where to start with the calls and texts, I decide to text everyone at the same time. I relay the information that the doctor gave me and let everyone know that I’m at the hospital with her and will send updates when I have them.

I continue sitting and watching Courtney’s chest rise and fall as she sleeps and stay that way until a nurse comes and tells me that Courtney is going to be transferred.

“Can I come?”

“Not yet,” she says. “But if you want to go out to the waiting room, we’ll let you know as soon as she’s settled in.”

I want to protest, but realize that I have to let the medical staff do their jobs, so I nod and then walk over to Courtney and place a kiss on her forehead before going to the waiting room.

Melissa and Amanda are both still here and I see that Jax and Deeks have joined them as well.

“Hey, man,” Deeks says. “How’s our girl doin’?”

“She’s going to be okay. She was just out of energy. Literally. So her body started shutting down.”

Everyone nods at that and suddenly I feel exhausted, so I sit.

“Are you okay?” Jax asks.

“I’m freaking out,” I say. “The doctor keeps saying she’s going to be fine, but then he mentions things like internal damage. I don’t even know. But they’re keeping her overnight and want to talk to her about all of this when she wakes up.”

“That makes sense,” Melissa says. “Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

I shake my head. I can’t imagine eating right now. But Melissa hands me a bottle of water and a sandwich, which I immediately begin eating.

“You don’t have to stay, Amanda,” I say, once I realize that she’s still here. “This isn’t part of your job.”

“I’m going to decide not to be offended right now,” she says. “I care about you guys. I want to be here.”

“Oh. Sorry,” I say, embarrassed that I assumed she was only here out of obligation. “Has anything about this already made its way into the wider world?”

Amanda’s face falls and I know the answer is yes. She has an entirely new PR battle to wage now.

“The guy we had in the box today got photos of all of it and he immediately sold them. All people know is that Courtney collapsed in the box shortly after your touchdown. No one has really tied it to her dieting yet, but I’m sure someone will get there by tomorrow. And I’m sure that there will be some nasty article about how she was dieting to keep your attention so that you wouldn’t cheat and you drove her to collapsing.”

“Shit,” I say.

“Sorry,” Amanda says. “Just trying to prepare you for what’s going to come. I mean, hopefully it doesn’t. But it could. Which, in my book, means it probably will.”

“Okay,” I say. “Do you know when the Narduccis are supposed to arrive?”

“I think soon,” she says. “I called them from Courtney’s phone to tell them what was happening and they said they’d get on the first flight out. Apparently they got lucky timing-wise because they told me they would be in tonight and would come straight to the hospital.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Y’all don’t have to stay,” I say, looking at my teammates. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I’m sure you’re all tired. You have lives and families to get to.”

“We’ll stay until the Narduccis get here,” Melissa says definitively.

“But your kids—” I start to say, but Jax interrupts with, “—are with the babysitter. They’re in great hands.”

I look at Deeks and he says, “You know better than to think that I’m leaving you alone here.”

“Thanks, man.”