Mr. Fiancé(145)

I shake my head and clap Coach on the back. "Never again, Coach. Never again. Now, the focus is on Carrie."

Coach claps me on the shoulders again, grinning. "Let's get you back to Western first, get that surgery done."

He moves on, and we go back into the locker room. After I get my gear off, I put my track suit back on and go back out to the field. There's a sense of nostalgia already, looking around at the grass. Regardless of whether I get drafted, or if my surgery is successful or not . . . my amateur football career is over.

I sense someone coming up behind me, and I turn, seeing Dad standing there, looking at me with pain in his eyes. "Why, Duncan? It was just one play, one game."

"Because it was the right thing to do. That's more important than the money."

He goes to say something, but a couple of men in suits call out. "Mr. Hart. Winston Hart."

He turns his head and goes pale. The men come closer, taking Dad's arms. "Mr. Hart, Mr. Salvatore would like to speak to you about your business loans. If you'd come with us."

The mobsters lead him away, and as I watch my father get led out of my life—maybe forever now, I don't know—another person approaches. It's Coach Bainridge, who's just completed the last of his press interviews. "Duncan."

"Coach. Guess you saw that."

He nods, watching as my dad disappears into a side tunnel of the stadium. "Coach, you didn't have to trust me. Even after telling you last night, I could have thrown the game."

Coach nods and pats me on the shoulder. "The player I had at the beginning of the season, I wouldn't have. The man you are today, I trust."

We walk off the field, and Coach laughs softly. "You know, I'm going to have to send someone to clean out your locker. You're going to be in the hospital. Is there anything in there that you'd be embarrassed to show?"

"Not that I can think of . . . but if there are any phone numbers or pictures in there, can you just burn those?"

"Wise decision."





Chapter 20





Carrie





After six hours of sitting in the hospital waiting room with nothing but a book to entertain me, I know one thing for certain: I hate hospital waiting rooms, and reading The Silence of The Lambs is not the way to relax in one.

"Miss Mittel?"

I look up and see the surgeon, Dr. Lefort, pulling off his little cap. He's not covered in blood, so at least that's a good thing, right?

"Is he all right, Doctor?"

My face must be too easy to read or something, because his smile is immediately comforting. "He's fine. In fact, if you want you can go see him in about fifteen minutes, he's in recovery. Just give him some time to finish getting everything cleaned up and a shirt on. After all, I can't be guilty of encouraging the delinquency of college students."

I blush and chuckle, shaking my head.

Dr. Lefort smiles. “Anyway, you can go back in a few minutes. A nurse will come get you."

"Just a minute, Doc. How'd the surgery go?"

He nods. "Good. The anterior band tear wasn't as bad as I feared, and the bicep tendon's still there. If he wasn't an athlete, I'd have passed on the tendon, but you know how Duncan is. He's got bigger biceps than most people, and he puts more stress on them."

It's a long five minutes, but when the nurse finally leads me back to the recovery room, Duncan's there, looking a lot more perky than I thought he would. "Hey, beautiful."

"How are you feeling?" I ask, coming over. Duncan's arm is in a splint, and it will be for a few days before he shifts to a sling when he's not doing rehab.

"Not too bad. They used a local anesthetic instead of putting me all the way under, so I got to watch. That was creepy-cool, like watching a zit vid on YouTube or something."

"Ew. Don't tell me you watch those things," I say, coming over and giving him a kiss.

Duncan laughs and gives my right hand a squeeze with his good hand. "Don't worry, just something a bunch of us did one night before an away game to waste some time. Not my normal thing for sure."

"You are anything but normal," I answer, but Duncan's face clouds. "What is it?"

"I didn't tell you about it before the surgery . . . but you know about my dad, right?"

"Of course. You told me how he wanted you to throw the game. Kinda cool that you actually caught the game, literally, instead." Tyler Paulson may have won the MVP award for his passing, but Duncan's performance hadn't been overlooked. "Why?"

"Well, I got a message from my stepmom. First time I've ever spoken with her, in fact. Dad's markers were called in, and in order to cover it all, they're taking everything, including most of my stuff too. I'm pretty much wiped out."