Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel (33 page)

BOOK: Breaking Tackles: A Taking Flight Novel
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My mom is at the side of my bed now, and she shushes me and whispers, “My darling girl,” as she wipes the tears away. My dad makes his way to stand by my mom and immediately puts his hand on her shoulder.

 

“This is all my fault,” I say, my voice catching. “I should have just eaten something.”

 

“I know,” Mom says. “And I’m glad that you know, too.”

 

“I’m sorry you came all this way for something this dumb.”

 

“This isn’t dumb,” my dad says. “Maybe not the smartest decision you’ve ever made. But it isn’t dumb.”

 

“Besides,” Mom says. “I’ve always wanted to see New Orleans.”

 

I laugh, grateful for the humor. Grateful that they’re here, even though I’m mortified.

 

“Well then, I’m glad you have the opportunity. Hopefully I’m out of here tomorrow and Adam and I can show you around.”

 

“Only if you feel up to it,” my dad says. “Besides, we can always come back to visit if we don’t see everything this time around.”

 

“That’s right,” Mom says. “I have a feeling we’ll be spending a lot of time down here starting next fall.”

 

“I hope so,” I say, smiling at the idea that they’ll be coming to visit me.

 

Here.

 

In New Orleans.

 

Where I’ll live.

 

With my husband.

 

“I have a feeling we’ll need to look into a timeshare or something,” my dad says, winking at my mom.

 

“A timeshare?” I ask, incredulous. “Just sublet an apartment. Or stay with me and Adam.”

 

Then I remember that Adam’s apartment is only one bedroom. We’ll need to change that. Not just for my family, but the friends who I’m sure will be wanting to come stay with us.

 

“We’ll see,” my mom says, covering a yawn with her hand.

 

Suddenly I can see how exhausted they look. I don’t ‘know how I didn’t notice it before. “Y’all are tired.”

 

“We didn’t get much sleep on the plane,” Dad says.

 

Shame and guilt wash over me again. “Get some sleep. I’m sure you could stay at Adam’s apartment.”

 

“He already offered,” Mom says, and I smile.

 

“Good. Wait, does that mean that you met everyone in the waiting room?”

 

“Briefly,” Dad says. “Jax Montgomery is big for a quarterback. I never realized.”

 

I laugh, trying to imagine my travel-weary parents meeting the Montgomerys and Deeks and Amanda. Actually, I can imagine it. I’m sure that my dad said exactly that to Jax.

 

“But really,” I say. “You should both get some sleep.”

 

“I’m going to stay here,” Mom says, eyeing the couch where Adam was sleeping earlier. “And I’m pretty sure Adam is as well.”

 

“Okay,” I say, knowing better than to fight this. “Dad?”

 

“I’ll stay here, too. I don’t think I could sleep, even if I tried.”

 

I consider arguing with him on this point, but decide against it. “Do you want to watch TV or anything?”

 

“If you want to,” Mom says.

 

There’s a knock on the door then and Adam peeks his head in.

 

“Hey,” he says softly before coming in and closing the door. “Everyone has left to go back home since it isn’t visiting hours until tomorrow afternoon. But they send you their best.”

 

“It was nice of them to hang out tonight.”

 

My parents move over to the seating area, Mom grabbing the couch and Dad taking one of the seats. Adam takes the second seat, but moves it over to the bed.

 

“You all look so tired,” I say, watching them. “Please get some sleep.”

 

My mom yawns and nods, stretching out on the couch. I know that she’ll be out within seconds. I turn on the TV to ESPN and lace my fingers through Adam’s when his hand finds mine.

 

We all sit in silence, staring at the television for a while. I start to feel groggy again and look over at my dad, who has fallen asleep with his legs propped up on the coffee table, despite himself.

 

“Are you tired?” I ask Adam quietly.

 

“Yeah,” he says. “I really am.”

 

“Me, too,” I say. “You don’t have to stay here if it’s uncomfortable.”

 

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving.”

 

“I figured. But I wanted to let you know that you could.”

 

“And I appreciate that.”

 

“Are you even going to be able to sleep in that chair?” I ask, and he shrugs.

 

I turn off the TV, scoot to the far side of the hospital bed as much as I can and say, “Come on. Get in the bed.”

 

“Is that allowed?”

 

“Who cares?” I ask. “Just get up here. We’ll both be more comfortable that way.”

 

“Okay,” he says, standing and removing his shoes, then climbing into the bed. I roll over onto my side so he has some more room. He wraps his arms around me, and I relish the way his body feels next to mine.

 

“Reminds you of the couple times we slept in my dorm last year, huh?” I say.

 

He laughs softly and says, “Yeah, a little.”

 

It’s crazy to think that was only just last year. I turn my head to say that, but realize that Adam has already fallen asleep. I sigh and snuggle down into the bed, hoping that sleep comes as easily for me as it did for my parents and Adam.

 

 

A few hours later I wake up to the sounds of both my dad and Adam snoring. Though the curtains are drawn, there’s a sliver of sunshine making its way inside the room, and I’m glad to see that the sun has finally come out.

 

Sometime in the night, Adam rolled away from me—probably because his arm was falling asleep—and I do my best to sit up as gently as possible so I don’t wake him.

 

“Morning,” my mom says, and I look over to see that she’s sitting up, too.

 

“Hey. How long have you been up?”

 

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” she says. “I considered taking a video of these two snoring.”

 

I laugh and then realize that my mom saw Adam and I in bed together, and for a moment I feel mortified. But, all things considered, there are way worse places—and ways—for your mom to find you in bed with a guy. Besides, Adam is my fiancé, not some random dude.

 

“How are you feeling?” my mom asks.

 

Pretty sure that’s going to be the most-asked question of the day.

 

“Good,” I say, after taking a mental scan of my body. “But hungry.”

 

“That’s good,” she says. “Let’s wake these two up so you can call the nurse to let her know you’re up and to bring you some breakfast. Do you want us to stick around for that?”

 

“Well,” I say. “I assume y’all are hungry, too, and most likely don’t want hospital food. But I also don’t want you feel as if I kicked you out.”

 

“There are a couple places across the street we could go,” Mom says, looking out the window.

 

“You may have to forcibly remove Adam from the room.”

 

She smiles and then goes about waking my dad up as I wake Adam up. I kiss him on the cheek and he stirs a bit, but doesn’t get up.

 

“Adam,” I say. “It’s time for breakfast.”

 

This does the trick and he rolls over to face me. “Breakfast?”

 

I fill him in on what my mom and I just talked about, letting him know that if he’d rather stay here, he can. He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, his back cracking. I must make a face because he says, “Took a couple big hits last night. I should probably get a massage.”

 

“Not from Mariella,” I say immediately, which makes him laugh.

 

“Agreed,” he says, kissing me quickly.

 

“So are you gonna go with my parents?”

 

“Yeah,” he says. “And I should probably run home and change clothes so that I’m not so much of a walking billboard for the team.”

 

“Do you even own any other clothes anymore?” I ask, knowing that he pretty much lives in his team apparel.

 

“Surprisingly, I do,” he says, before saying, “Crap. My Jeep is still at the field house.”

 

“Call Amanda,” I say. “I’m sure she could get it here.”

 

“That’s a good idea,” he says.

 

“You both ready?” my mom asks.

 

My dad comes over and to say good morning and kiss me on the forehead, and Adam kisses me on the lips quickly before they leave.

 

“We’ll be back in a couple hours,” he says.

 

“I know,” I say. “Go eat and get changed. I’ll see you later.”

 

When the door is closed, I hit the call button and the same nurse from the middle of the night comes in.

 

“Good morning,” she chirps.

 

“Morning,” I say.

 

“You feeling back to normal?” she asks and I nod.

 

“I’m actually hungry.”

 

“That’s great,” she says, writing something on my chart before taking my vitals again, and then unhooks the IV from my hand. When she’s finished, she leaves the room and brings in a breakfast tray a few minutes later. It’s a bigger meal than I’ve had in a long time, but I devour it, relishing the taste of toast, fruit, and scrambled eggs, even if it is bland hospital food.

 

I turn the TV on to pass the time, deliberately not watching ESPN, just in case they’re running the story about me. It’s a slim chance they are, but still. I don’t want to see it.

 

The nurse comes back in to the clear my tray and lets me know that the doctor and nutritionist will be stopping by soon to chat with me, and that the bathroom has a shower, hairbrush, and a few essential toiletries if I want them.

 

As I get up to try and make myself look slightly more presentable, I wish that my parents and Adam were back, to be here with me for the chat with the doctors, but at the same time, am glad they’re away. It might be embarrassing to talk about all of my issues in front of them.

 

After doing my best to look better, I look at myself in the mirror. My hair is in a braid, my face scrubbed clean of makeup, and I know that this is as good as it’s going to get. I head back to the bed and sit on it instead of laying back down, then notice that my purse and clothes are in the corner of the room.

 

My purse has my phone.

 

I hop off the bed and go over to grab my phone, hoping that it isn’t dead. When I look at it, I’m delighted to see that it does still have a bit of battery left, and am a little shocked that there aren’t as many missed messages as I assumed there would be.

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