Waiting on the Sidelines (Waiting on the Sidelines #1)(100)

I let a single tear slide down my cheek, not even bothering to wipe it. How could he be fine. He can’t throw. How the hell did this happen?

“The doctors said we could take you home tonight,” my mom slid in to sit next to me, pushing a cold wash cloth on my head.

I just shook my head no. I didn’t want to go. I couldn’t bare the thought of going without Reed. “No, please. I have to stay. Please!” I was begging. “It’s a hospital, I’ll be fine here. Please!”

My voice was hoarse and my cheeks were sticky. I was sure I looked homeless, my hair ratted and my face dirty from crying. I watched as my parents exchanged glances, looking from me to one another. Finally, they relented, explaining they had to check me out so I would have to stay as a guest, sitting in Reed’s room.

“I’ll pick you up early tomorrow, OK?” my dad kissed my head while my mom helped gather my bag of belongings. I cringed as I saw her good dress, cut in two in a plastic bag. But she picked my chin up and smiled.

“It’s just a dress,” she smiled. “It gives me an excuse to buy a new one.”

I just squeezed her hand again. Not really wanting to spend the night here in my loaner gown from the hospital, my mom worked her persuasive magic and talked one of the nurses into giving me a set of old scrubs. They were maroon, but at least they weren’t open in the back, a step up from the gown I was wearing now.



My parents left and I stood in the hallway by Reed’s room holding my phone wearing flip flops my mom bought at the gift shop. I couldn’t seem to get my legs to move, so I just listened as Buck explained he would be back tomorrow and he would drive Reed to Millie’s house. Millie had left just minutes before; I missed her, which was probably lucky as I’m sure somehow what happened has only made me a step lower in her eyes.

Buck stopped in the hall as he left, looking down at his phone and then pausing as he got closer to me, looking up and giving me a soft smile. “Nolan, sweetheart,” he gave me a big hug and I started shaking. “Shhhhhhh, it’s ok. He’s going to be just fine. He’s strong, my boy.”

He gave me a wink and said he’d see me in the morning and I started to slide to his room. I barely made it around the corner, silent, and I saw his face, still blank. He was looking out the window at nothing. I slid closer, setting my phone on his small table and then pulling the wooden chair over to his head side of the bed. I curled my body up into the tiny chair and reached for his left hand, his right one buried under a slick, white cast. His entire right arm was held up with bars and chains, and he looked so uncomfortable.

He didn’t turn to me right away, and his hand felt weak. When he finally looked at me, I could tell his eyes were puffy. I ran my fingers down his face, leaning forward to kiss his head. “Hey,” I smiled, faintly.

“Hey,” he said back, biting his lip a little, still pained. He was squeezing my hand more now. “You’re ok,” he let out his lungs, his mouth falling into a hard straight line.

“I’m ok,” I swallowed, looking at his body, which was not OK. “Does it… hurt?” I motioned to his arm.

He turned slowly to look at it for several minutes before speaking. “Yeah, it hurts,” he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, distracted.

He finally turned his head back to me, blinking a little, his eyes looking tired. “I’m staying,” I said. I just wanted him to know so he could relax, and it seemed to help a little. “I refused to leave,” I smiled.

He gave me a flat smile, his lips tight. The lines formed on his brow; he was thinking. I reached for his water cup and brought it to him, but he just turned and shrugged it off. Finally, he spoke.

“She was texting,” he sighed. I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I just shrugged, not understanding. “The driver of the other car. She was texting. She came in our lane, so fast. I swerved and we hit the highway marker. And a cactus, I guess.”

He seemed to be far away, replaying the accident in his mind. I just brushed his head and tried to get him to rest.

“My dad’s pressing charges,” he said flatly, turning back to the window. A few minutes later, he was asleep. I watched him breathe until the sun was up, and finally I slept for an hour or two myself.



My dad picked me up just as Buck was arriving to get Reed settled and ready to go to Millie’s. The two fathers shook hands, Buck putting his hand on my dad’s back, almost a hug. I could tell they respected each other and were some comfort to one another, and it made me feel glad amid all of this bad stuff.

Reed had managed to eat a small breakfast, and was talking more this morning. But he still seemed off. I kissed him, but our parting felt empty. It felt like a routine, or an obligation on his part. And suddenly the deep bruising on my ribs wasn’t the only internal injury I was nursing.





24. And After


Ten weeks. That meant five games. Reed wouldn’t suit up for his senior homecoming match up, and there was a chance the Bears wouldn’t make the playoffs unless Kyle, Reed’s back-up, could pull off a miracle. He had only thrown the ball in a few games, and only when they were blow outs.

Reed had been back at his dad’s house for almost two days, and I still hadn’t seen him. He had called me the night he got home, but said he was going to bed early, tired and trying to get things settled. He promised to make it up to me yesterday, but then the entire day came and went without a single phone call.