But maybe that’s what helps them get along. They balance each other out. Cannon and I are very different, and perhaps that’s to our advantage. Look at my parents. My father and mother are nothing alike, yet they’ve been married a long time. And they seem relatively happy.
Well. Sort of.
“I hear you’re driving Priscilla back to London?” George asks with brotherly concern. “It’s raining, you know. And it’s dark.”
He also knows how I don’t like to drive in the dark or during bad weather. The combination really sends me over the edge.
But for some reason, tonight I feel brave.
Oh, and then there’s the fact that I want the hell out of here.
“And what vehicle are you going to use?” he continues. “One of Dad’s cars?”
“You can drive my car,” Evie suggests.
My mouth drops open at her offer. “You’re going to let me drive the fancy Mercedes your father gave you?”
“Do you have a spare pair of driving glasses?” she asks.
“I do,” I reassure her. “I keep a pair in my bedroom, just in case.” The prescription might be old, but they should work. Shouldn’t they?
“Okay. Just…please don’t wreck the car. My father will kill me.” Evie disentangles herself from my brother and moves so she’s standing next to me. “It’s the least I can do after what just happened.”
“Priscilla seems all right,” I say. “If you were worried about her.”
I’m guessing from the look on Evie’s face that Priscilla really didn’t even cross her mind. “I’m glad. I didn’t want her to get her feelings hurt.”
“That’s for my brother to worry about, not you.” I grab her and pull her in for a quick hug. “I’m happy for you. If this is really what you want.”
“It is,” she murmurs just before she kisses me on the cheek. “I want to be with George. I just hope you’re not angry with me. Or with him too.”
“I’m not angry.” I pull away from her so I can meet her gaze. “I’m just…it’s weird? You and George? I can’t imagine it.”
“Well, imagine it. Because it’s true.” She sends a quick, worried look in Mother’s direction before she returns her attention to me. “That’s the one who scares me.”
“You should be scared. She might try to destroy your relationship.” Is it wrong I’m a little happy that my brother’s newfound relationship with Evie will take some of Mother’s focus off me? That’s selfish of me to think, but it’s the truth.
Maybe she’ll finally leave me alone now.
Ha. I could be so lucky.
I’m sitting around sulking in my hotel room when I get the first phone call from Susanna around one o’clock in the afternoon.
“Hey, baby,” I answer wearily, still depressed over my fucked-up knee and fucked-up life, but there’s no response.
Just dead air. A loud click, then nothing.
Huh.
I receive a couple more calls just like it, and they worry me. To the point that I send her a quick text.
You okay? I keep receiving calls from your number, but I can’t hear you.
Ten, twenty, thirty minutes later, and still no response.
I try calling. Nothing. I keep trying, until her phone gets to the point that it doesn’t even ring anymore. Just goes straight to voicemail and her lilting, almost snooty accented voice says:
Hello, you’ve reached the phone of Susanna Sumner. I can’t take your call right now, but do please leave me your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.
The phone beeps, and I leave a message.
“Sus, I’m worried. You called me a couple of times, but I never heard you say anything. I text you and you don’t respond. I call you, and you don’t respond. You need to call me as soon as you get this message and let me know you’re okay. Okay?”
I want to say more. Tell her I care about her and I’m worried. But I don’t say anything like that, because I’m feeling like a chicken.
Instead, I end the call and set my phone on the couch, pissed at my bum knee, at the fact that I don’t know where Susanna is and I have no other way to get a hold of her, unless it’s through her phone. I don’t know her parents’ number or her brother’s number, or even her best friend’s number.
And that sucks.
The day drags, and still no response from Susanna. The sun goes down, it’s almost six, and when my phone finally rings and I see Susanna’s number on the screen, the relief that fills me almost makes my head spin.
“Thank Christ you’re finally calling,” I answer. “Are you all right?”
“Um, hello?” The timid voice that fills my ear definitely isn’t Susanna’s.
“Who is this?”
“Are you the sexy footballer?”
What the hell? “Who are you?” I ask.
“Um, my name is Claire Williams, and I’m a nurse. Susanna asked me to call the sexy footballer and let him know that she’s going to be fine.” She hesitates. “You are the sexy footballer, right?”
“Wait a minute.” I sit up straighter, wincing at the pain shooting through my knee. “You’re a nurse? And you’re with Susanna?”
“Yes, she’s in hospital, but don’t worry, the accident wasn’t that bad.”
Fear makes my blood run ice cold. “Accident?”
“Oh dear, I’m sure you don’t know, and I’m sorry to have to tell you like this. I’m afraid Susanna has been in a car accident, but she and her friend are okay.”
“Her friend?” Who was she traveling with? That girl, Evie?
“Yes, I believe she was in the Mercedes with a man.”
A man? “She wrecked the family Mercedes?”
“I wouldn’t call it the family Mercedes. More like a sporty car. Two door. I heard it got mangled,” the nurse says.
This conversation is confusing—and disconcerting. I can’t believe the woman is calling to reassure me, yet she doesn’t know shit. “So you’re telling me Susanna was in an accident involving a two-door sporty Mercedes and she was with another man.” Jealousy could be coming at me fast and hard right about now, but I can’t even think about that. Not without knowing exactly how Susanna is.
“Er, some of my facts might be wrong. I’ll have her ring you as soon as she’s lucid. I only made this call because she kept babbling about her sexy footballer and how your number was under that exact term in her contacts and so…I had to help her and see for myself. You’ll hear from her soon!”
There’s a click, and then she’s gone.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dropping the phone beside me on the couch and scrubbing my face with my hands, my mind spinning. The nurse didn’t tell me shit, beyond a bunch of garbled facts that might not even be facts.
Where is Susanna? Is she okay? What exactly happened to her? Is she badly injured? I can’t sit here not knowing, but having her clear across the world kind of stifles my plan of action. Worse, I’m not even home. I’m stuck in a hotel in Arizona.
Grabbing my phone, I go to my favorites list and hit Tuttle’s number.
“Hey, man,” I tell him when he answers. “I need your help.”
An hour later and Tuttle and our friend and teammate Tucker McCloud are at my hotel room, bringing a box of pizza with them and all the information about Susanna I need from Tuttle. How he finds this stuff out, I don’t know, but I don’t ask too many questions.
Let’s just say Tuttle has excellent resources, and they all come from his father’s business—and money.
“She’s at County Hospital, just outside of Durham,” he tells me as I stuff my face full with actual, real pizza. None of that thin British crap from PizzaExpress. “Don’t know the extent of her injuries, though. Has she called you back yet?”
“No,” I say after I swallow. Damn, I wish I could have a beer, but I’m on pain meds and I’m not mixing them with alcohol. I need to keep my head clear. “I wish she would. It’s killing me, thinking that she’s hurt and I’m
so far away.”
“You all right, man? I know this has gotta be hard on you.” Tucker watches me, a sympathetic look in his eyes. He’s a little older than us, he’s bounced around from team to team throughout his career, and he’s glad to have found a home with the Niners. He gives good advice, he gives us endless shit, and he’s a good friend.
“Yeah, I’m doing okay.” Not really, and I think Tucker can tell I’m lying, but I don’t know what else to say.
And I sound like a real wimp if I start whining too much about Susanna. But shit, I’m worried. I want to know where she’s at.
I want to make sure she’s all right.
“So tell me what else you’ve found out,” I say to Tuttle.
“I found the phone number for her best friend, Evie. And I think I found her brother George.” Tuttle taps away at his phone and mine dings, indicating I received a text message. “I just sent both numbers to you.”
“Think I should call them?”
Tucker’s nodding as Tuttle says, “Shoot them each a text first. See if they’re who you’re looking for. It’s late over there now, so they might not respond.” He shakes his head. “Sorry about this. I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”
I grab another piece of pizza and chomp into it. Despite my worry, I’m also starving, and I can’t concentrate when I’m so damn hungry. “You really don’t know what you’d do?”
“Well, I have an idea of what I might do,” Jordan says.
“And what’s that?”
“Go to her,” Tucker answers first. “Tell her how you feel. Take care of her as best you can, even though you’re a little broken yourself.”
“Yep. That,” Tuttle agrees, tapping his fingers on the small round table we’re sitting at. “If it was Amanda, I’d probably buy a one-way ticket to London, and the minute I landed I’d get a rental car and drive straight to that hospital. Make sure she’s all right. I wouldn’t sleep at all until I had confirmation.”
I swallow the last bite of my slice of pizza and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “See, I was thinking of doing exactly that, but figured I was overreacting.”
“You’re only overreacting if you don’t give a shit about this woman.” Jordan watches me for a second, a knowing gleam in his eye. “But I get the idea that you actually do give a shit about her.”
“I think I’m in love with her.” My voice is gruff with the admission and I clear my throat, surprised at how easy that was to say. I haven’t seen her in well over a month, and the last time I talked to her, I lied to her, which is absolute bullshit and I feel like a total jerk. But yeah.
I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. She’s all I can think about. It’s all I do—think about her. Football may consume me, but something else consumes me now too.
And that’s Susanna.
Forgetting all about the pizza, I grab my phone and open the airline app I always use, entering info for a one-way ticket to London. After a few seconds I’ve got hits. “There’s a connecting flight leaving in two hours.”
“That’s great, but you need to make a few calls to your bosses first, before you leave,” Tuttle reminds me. “You can’t just bail, even though you’re not playing tomorrow.”
“They’ll be a little pissed if you leave the country without letting them know,” Tucker adds sarcastically, making me pause.
Damn, yeah. They’ll want to get me in to see a specialist first thing Monday to check out my knee. Then they’ll probably start scheduling physical therapy appointments and all that bullshit. Prep me for the press release and schedule a few interviews so I can talk about it to the press—the very last thing I want to do.
But there’s no way I can stay. I need to go find Susanna. “All right, I’ll put in a few calls, make my arrangements, and get the hell out of here.”
“You got your passport?” Tucker asks.
“Never leave home without it.” Thank Christ I got into that particular habit.
“You’re golden then,” Jordan says, smiling at me as he rises, giving me a slap on the back as he walks past, Tucker following behind him. “Let me know if there’s anything else we can do.”
“You guys have done more than enough,” I tell them as they head for the door. “Thanks for the pizza. And the information.”
“You know we’ve always got your back, Cannon,” Jordan says. “No matter what.”
“Yeah.” I smile at them both. “I do.”
Every single bone in my body hurts.
Wait, maybe it’s my muscles that are causing so much pain. I’m not sure. All I do know is that I ache. Everywhere. My head. My neck. My shoulders.
My everything.
The nurse who was standing by my bedside when I woke up earlier in the morning informed me I have a broken arm and a couple of dislocated ribs. Some bruising on my face. Otherwise, I’ll be fine.
I don’t feel fine, though. I feel like that Mercedes actually ran over me.
A groan escapes at the thought of the car I was driving last night. Evie’s car.
Now destroyed.
Shit.
I don’t remember a lot of what happened last night after we left my parents’ house. The rain was coming down in sheets. The road was slick, and it was so bloody dark, and my glasses didn’t seem to help. No streetlights that far out in the country. I was driving an unfamiliar car, and that thing has the most powerful engine ever. I barely touched the gas with my foot and the car would leap forward like it was an impatient dog tugging at its leash while on a walk through a new neighborhood.
Priscilla expressed her worry a few times during the drive, but I reassured her I knew what I was doing.
Did I really know?
Apparently, no. One minute I was driving along the bendy country road, the next the car was spinning out of control until it landed on its side in a ditch. Thank God the ambulance came quickly, loading the both of us into it, but Priscilla barely had a scrape. I’m the one who took the brunt of it.
And now here I lay in a hospital room, in absolute agony, and I’m terrified my best friend is going to storm into my room at any minute and chew me out for destroying her beloved car.
Not that Evie would actually do that, but you never know…
A nurse enters the room, her steps whisper-quiet thanks to the shoes she’s wearing. “Good afternoon. Looks like you’re finally awake.”
“It’s the afternoon?” My voice sounds like I swallowed gravel.
God, did I?
I could’ve.
“Yes, you’ve been sleeping for quite a while, but they gave you a sedative, so no surprise.” She has a clipboard in her hands and she ticks off a few items with a flick of her pen. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I ran over my body with a car,” I complain, making her smile.
“I see your friend didn’t stay overnight, so he must be all right,” the nurse continues.
“He?” She couldn’t have mistaken Priscilla for a man, could she have? No. Priscilla is tall, but she has long hair and she’s beautiful.
“Well, yes, you arrived last night because of that car accident, right? And there was a man in the car with you?” She’s frowning, waiting for me to answer.
“I was driving my friend Priscilla home. Though you really can’t call us friends, since we only just met yesterday. You see, she’s my brother’s girlfriend, but it turns out she really wasn’t his girlfriend at all, and my brother is actually in love with my best friend—”
“I must’ve been wrong then, that you came with a man. It was rather confusing last night, lots of accidents because of the terrible weather,” the nurse says, interrupting me. “I’m glad to see you’re in better spirits. They might even release you later today, though I’m not sure. Do you have someone who can come pick you up?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I pray they don’t release me to my parents. Unfortunately, their house is closer than my flat in the city, so that makes the most sense. And I have no clue where
George or Evie are.
All I know is, I don’t want to be held captive in my childhood home. That sounds like absolute torture.
“Did you ever get a chance to talk with your footballer?” the nurse asks as she bustles around my room, checking all the things.
Wait a minute. “What do you mean?”
The nurse pauses in what she’s doing. “Your sexy footballer you had me call last night. You wanted me to let him know you were all right.”
“I did?” I don’t remember this.
“Yes, you told me you had his number saved under Sexy Footballer, and you begged me to call him. Said you’d been trying to ring him all night, but he wouldn’t answer,” she continues, sounding so very matter-of-fact.
All the while my head feels like it might spin right off my body.
Cannon. I need to call Cannon and tell him what happened to me. Is he worried? Has he tried to call?
God, I feel terrible.
“I need to call him,” I tell her as I try to sit up. All that does, though, is hurt my head, my ribs, all of it, and I lean back into my pillow and close my eyes, hating how weak I feel.
“You can call him later. Perhaps when you return home?” The nurse leaves before I can answer her, and a frustrated sound escapes me.
I have no idea where my phone is, though they’d probably tell me I can’t use it. I have no idea where my family is either, or my friend. I’m all alone in this hospital bed, and I’m groggy from the sedative and sore…
“There’s our girl!” Father exclaims as he enters my hospital room, Mother right behind him. “We’ve been waiting all day to see you.”
“All day?” I’m frowning.
“We’ve been in the waiting room worried sick about you.” That’s actual, genuine concern in my mother’s voice as she rushes toward my hospital bed and carefully takes my hand. “Are you all right?” She brushes the hair away from my forehead and I flinch, surprised that even that tender action hurts.
I’m also flinching because my mother is actually being so…sweet.
Maybe something’s wrong with her.
Thinking About You Page 16
