Win Me Over (27 page)

“Hey, girl. Great performance tonight.”

“Thank you, I'm pretty proud of them.” Callie's voice went quiet. “How are the guys doing?”

Corinne raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward. “The're having problems with Jason. He almost acts afraid out there. Tate already got sacked twice on pass plays. They had to pull him.”

Callie's shoulders dropped. “You're kidding. Bennett had finally felt good about letting him play.”

“I don't know what's going on. I texted Reg, but he hasn't replied back. The Bulldogs have a couple of massive linebackers, so they can't afford to keep him in there if he isn't ready.”

“Is that the boy that got hurt?” Anne said beside Callie, her voice full of concern.

Corinne and Callie nodded.

“It was his first night back,” Callie said.

“Grayson Senior has been down there giving the coaches hell, causing a scene. I want to go down there and whoop his ass.” Corinne gave them her meanest glare and Callie smiled.

“What do you think he was saying?” Callie asked.

“Oh, I'm sure he was pissed that Bennett wasn't pulling Jason sooner. The last time Tate got tackled he nearly jumped over the railing, he was so angry. I keep hoping Mr. Starkey will go down and have words with him.”

The band starting up told them the second half was starting, and the team ran onto the field amidst cheers. They were down by fifteen points, and now Callie's good mood had taken a dive. She wasn't the most informed football fan, but she knew the basics, and she wondered what was happening with Jason. She wished she could talk to Bennett. She watched as he sauntered back to the sideline, his head down, his eyes looking at the ground.

While his assistant coaches were yellers, he was more like a caged tiger, pacing back and forth, back and forth. But when he did speak or raise his voice to the boys out on the field, every single one of them turned and listened. He commanded their respect and she enjoyed witnessing it, but right now she just wanted to wrap her arms around him.

A few minutes later Callie watched as Jason ran out to the line of scrimmage for the first play. She looked down at Corrine at the same time Corinne turned to look at her.

“He's back in,” she whispered. “Hope Bennett knows what he's doing.”

“Me too,” Callie whispered.

It didn't take long for the boys to make a first and then second down. Callie began to relax a little; things seemed to be going okay. But all she had to do was look at Bennett's rigid shoulders to know that he was indeed stressed. Three weeks ago she wouldn't have been able to read his body language this way. But when he got frustrated he put his hands on his hips and rolled his neck, as he did now.

Bennett signaled for a time-out and Callie watched as a few boys ran over to the side. She saw Bennett using his hands to describe what she assumed would be the next play, his shoulders taut and wide in his blue Preston polo shirt. He spoke specifically to Jason at one point and then the boys all ran back onto the field and into formation.

This time Callie's eyes were on Tate; he was a few steps back behind the center this time and when the ball was tossed to him he caught it, and grunts and crunching uniforms filled the air. Callie's eyes darted to Jason, who was instantly crushed to the ground a few feet from Tate, and the next thing she knew a big guy came around the back side heading straight for the quarterback. From the corner of her eye Callie saw Corinne jump to her feet and start yelling.

Things began to play as if in slow motion, the massive linebacker hit Tate from the back left side; his body looked like a rag doll, head lolling and then flopping as he went down, the other player landing on top of him.

She knew tackling was part of football, but something looked …
wrong
about how it had played out. Her feelings were confirmed by the immediate reaction of the crowd. Some had jumped up; many had gasped.

Callie glanced at Corinne, whose hands had gone to her mouth, her eyes wide. That wasn't good.

Players on the field began to retreat back to the line, not realizing yet what had happened, but everyone in the stands noticed that Tate didn't get up when the other team's players did. The linebacker even knelt down and touched Tate's back.

Tate was facedown in the grass, unmoving, and Callie's eyes immediately sought out Bennett. He was running onto the field. Reggie followed, but the coach from the other team got there first and fell to his knees beside Tate's head. The referees—and another man who Callie could only assume was Tate's father—jumped over the railing at the bottom of the seats and ran onto the field.

Callie felt tears burning in her eyes as the paramedics ran through the side gate … they came to every game and waited in the parking lot. Always prepared, because football was dangerous.

The crowd was hushed and waiting as the huddle surrounded Tate on the field and Callie felt Anne squeeze her hand. Instinctively she gripped back, terrified. She hadn't realized how rigid her body was until she felt Eric behind her. He'd squeezed in front of the people behind them to comfort her.

Her
. When she was sitting here safe—fine. She didn't need comforting. She didn't need saving. Tate did, and Bennett. Oh god, Callie felt her heart breaking just imagining what he must be feeling right now.

Callie whispered, “I have to go to him.”

“It'll be okay, sweetie; these things happen all the time at football games,” Lindsey said beside her.

Callie nodded; Lindsey was right. They did. But this was Bennett's game, his worst fear coming true. If anything happened to one of his boys it would destroy him.

Suddenly the huddle parted. They were helping Tate to his feet, and the crowd cheered. He began to walk, with the help of Bennett and a paramedic, toward the sideline.

Callie let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived … suddenly Tate's legs crumpled and he went limp, Bennett's arms shooting out to catch him as they all went to the ground. The frantic gasp of the crowd filled her ears, sending her body into a panic.

“Oh my god,” Callie whispered. She got out of her seat, unable to sit still anymore. She couldn't believe this was happening. She ran down the steps and stopped at the bottom railing, feeling helpless and afraid. She glanced at the student section; their eyes were all wide and frightened, hands over their mouths. One girl began to cry. Callie couldn't blame her; the sight of Tate collapsing, taking Bennett to the ground with him, was almost too much.

Within seconds two firemen were running out with a stretcher between them and it was all too real, too awful, as they laid Tate's lifeless body onto it, strapping his torso, his legs, his head. Callie stood immobile, watching as they left out the same side gate and Bennett went with them, his expression completely solemn and unreadable.

Callie ran down the aisle, sliding between standing onlookers and the railing. When she finally hit the steps she sped up, taking them quickly, and then broke into a run. The paramedics were at the edge of the parking lot, just beginning to load the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. She didn't see Bennett anywhere.

Just as she made her way around the back of the ambulance it flipped on its lights and sirens. Callie stepped onto the curb as it pulled out. She hadn't seen Bennett get into the back, only the medics and Tate's father, but it had all been a blur. Then she spotted the taillights of Bennett's truck lighting up a row over in the parking lot. He was just going to leave the game? His team?

She ran, heading around a neighboring car so he didn't back into her. He'd backed out of his parking spot, ready to go, when she ran up alongside the passenger door and pounded on the window.

He stopped—
thank god
—and rolled down the window, his eyes nearly glazed over. “Callie, I've gotta go.”

“Let me come with you.”

He shook his head. “No. You stay here.”

She yanked on the handle, but the door was locked. “I want to come with you, Bennett.”

The car inched forward.

“Bennett!” she yelled. “Let me be there with you!”

He looked out over the dash. “I'll call you. Let me go, Callie.”

His jaw hardened and the minute she stepped back he pulled away without looking at her again. She couldn't believe it.

He'd left her, too.

 

Fifteen

Callie paced her living room, glancing down at her phone one more time. Probably the thousandth time. The game had ended two hours ago, early, both teams too shaken to continue. The spectators had filed out of the stadium, shocked and saddened looks on their faces.

She'd gone back to her seat to find everyone waiting for her, trying to be optimistic and supportive. But it didn't matter. Bennett had shut her out and she was completely devastated. After the past couple weeks she had started to believe that there was something between them. A something that would make him want her with him in a traumatic situation. But he hadn't. Even when she'd begged. It hurt way more than she ever would have guessed.

Callie glanced over at her father sitting on her sofa. Her parents had driven her home and insisted on coming in. Staying with her. She was grateful. It was soothing to see him there watching television, and as if reading her thoughts, he turned and smiled, patting the cushion beside him.

“Come over here, Callie Jo,” he said.

She'd been up and down for the past hour. She was exhausted. She went to him, sinking down into the sofa, her head in the crook of his arm. The scent of her father was so familiar, Dial soap and cinnamon gum. She hadn't snuggled up with him in years. She missed it, the feeling of someone taking care of her.

“He'll call when he can, sweetheart. He's a man, our brains focus on one task at a time, and right now that task is this boy. When things calm down and he can stop worrying, he'll remember to check in with you.”

“What if things don't calm down? What if he doesn't stop worrying?” she asked, not wanting to voice her worst fear.

What if Tate died?

Her father took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling under her cheek. “Well, then we'll deal with that if we have to. But let's pray we don't.”

Callie's eyes squeezed shut, a tear dropping onto her father's sweatshirt. She couldn't imagine how Bennett would take the death of one of his players. It was too awful to even consider.

“I made some tea.” Barbara walked out of the kitchen holding two steaming mugs. “Come on, sweetie; it'll make you feel better.”

Callie sat up and took a mug, lifting it to her lips. It smelled rich. She took a little sip. It was delicious, a hint of Irish Cream mixed with half and half. She took another, the heat unfurling inside her, softening the tension in her shoulders. “What's in this?”

Her mother shrugged as she took her own sip. “Just a little something to calm your nerves.”

Callie continued to drink, tuning out the sounds of her parents talking to each other. She knew they were worried. Tate crumpling right in front of her eyes … it was a sight she'd never forget. He'd looked completely lifeless. As awful as the sight had been, the thing that was breaking her heart was Bennett. Watching him run on to the field, then nearly carry Tate back before they'd both gone down … it was as if Callie could feel his fear. His pain. If she could just see him right now. Hold him. She squeezed her eyes closed and snuggled deeper against her father.

After a while Callie shifted on the couch, turning her head to glance at the television. She sat up. She'd fallen asleep and didn't even remember doing it. Her father patted her leg. “You okay?”

“How long was I asleep?” She scrambled up and found her phone.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

“Maybe thirty minutes or so,” her father responded.

It felt like hours. “I think I'm gonna go lie in my bed.”

She stood up and so did her mother. “I pulled down your comforter, got it all ready for you,” Barbara said. She followed Callie down the hallway.

Callie slid off her jeans and sank down onto the cool sheets. She sighed when her mother covered her up and then headed for the door.

“Mom,” Callie whispered.

Her mother turned to her. “Yes?”

“Will you lie down with me?”

She couldn't see Barbara's face, it was too dark, but there was enough love in her voice for Callie to know she was smiling.

“I'd love nothing more,” she said. Barbara slid under the covers on the other side of Callie and wrapped her arms around her. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

*   *   *

Saturday at 8:00 A.M. Callie had had enough. She couldn't wait any longer, and she wanted to know what was going on. According to the school Facebook page, the doctors had put Tate into a medically induced coma. He was critical, had a severe concussion. There was some bleeding under his skull.

All Callie wanted was to hear from Bennett and she wasn't sure if she was more shocked or hurt that he hadn't been in touch by now.

CALLIE: How are you? Talk to me.

She went into the kitchen and started some coffee. She was grateful to her parents for staying all night, but she was relieved when they'd left a while ago. She wanted to feel sorry for herself in her own style. By crying alone. Something she hadn't done over a man in a long time. Something she swore she'd never do again. How had she let her control slip away? When?

Eric had been sweet enough to call this morning and tell her he and Emma would take care of the bakery today, so Callie didn't need to worry about coming in at all. She was sure that they were thinking that she'd want the time to be with Bennett. Taking care of him.

That's not at all what was happening. In fact, he still hadn't responded to her text.

CALLIE: Do you want me to go let Misha out?