Handful by C.R. Grissom
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kirsty
The morning following the game, Phoebe and TJ arrive at Everest’s place to take over his care. Phoebe carries a large plastic tub of chicken soup—courtesy of Grams—and sets the container on the kitchen table.
“Hey.” Phoebe leans down to hug me. “Rough night?”
“Not at all. It’s just catching up with me a bit. A nap and a shower will recharge the batteries.”
“Has he eaten yet?” she asks, worry in her voice.
Everest calls out from his perch on the living room couch. “I had toast and a sports drink. I’m fine.”
“The emperor is feeling a tad put out,” I confide loudly using my best Brit accent.
Phoebe snorts. “The emperor?”
“In Gladiator World, the Mountain reigns. I believe he’s going to call for us to be sacrificed to the lions soon.”
“Keep it up, Lilly.” He ruins his threat with a barely repressed chuckle. “We call it Gladiator Island.”
I roll my tired eyes in his direction. “Put the soup in the fridge, maybe heat it up in an hour?”
Faith joins us in the kitchen.
She hip-checks me. “You didn’t need to do everything on your own.”
“I’m used to late-night vigils. Remember when Collin went through those high fever spikes?” I shudder at the memory.
“Yeah, scary.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder. “I’m so glad that stopped. How is he?”
I smile. “He sends me texts through his iPad. There’s a girl named Emily in his kindergarten class he texts about nonstop. I do believe he’s experiencing his first crush.”
“Aww.” Faith grins. “Sweet.”
I ask Faith, “Did you change out his gel pack?”
“I did. Shoot, I left it in the other room. I’ll need to put it in the freezer before we take off.”
I pull out my cell and create a text to Phoebe noting Everest’s schedule. “Phoebe, I’m texting you the times he’ll be due for his next rounds of meds. He’s due for ibuprofen now. Faith, can you grab that for him?”
“On it,” she tosses over her shoulder.
“If he wants to shower, make sure Tiago goes with him. We don’t want him slipping in the shower.”
“He doesn’t need to babysit me in the shower,” Everest grumbles.
“Ignore him. What time do you guys need to leave for work?” I want to add it to my notes, so we’re back in time to switch.
“We need to leave by three.”
“No problem. We’ll be back for the change of shift.”
“Are you sure you want to work in a lab?” Everest asks.
“Yes, how else would I develop the serum that makes me grow another eight inches?”
“Already invented; it’s called Viagra,” Tiago assures me.
I shoot Tiago a droll glance while asking Phoebe, “Why do all men claim to have eight inches? Is that some magic number?”
“Mmm. Magic.” Phoebe nods murmuring to herself.
I can’t help it, I snort out a laugh at the expression on Phoebe’s face. Go Tiago.
*
The week sinceEverest’s injury has been a blur between classes and making sure he has everything he needs: food, meds, and drivers. The team doc told Everest the results of his MRI came back negative for fractures, confirming the hyperextended knee diagnosis. A huge relief for us all.
He’ll do his PT at Fortis. They have a physical therapy facility on-site as it’s one of the degrees offered.
For the next two weeks the Gladiators are away. Due to his injury, Everest won’t travel with the team. Tonight, we’ll watch the televised game together to make sure he doesn’t wallow. Phoebe has to work, but Faith and I will head over in a bit. Mr. Lacerna loaned Faith his car while he travels for work. Timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
I prefer staying away from rideshare late at night unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s peak travel time for Rides, and it costs twice as much. I have to be careful with money. My savings won’t last forever. Granny Kay left money for my tuition and boarding only. I’ve been saving for years, but I’ll need a job soonish. Not before I’m more comfortable with my class load. Don’t think about that. I admonish myself, when my nerves fizzle and I go light-headed with anxiety.
I’m up half the night keeping up with assignments. Finish one project, and three more get added. Once Everest is on both feet, I’ll have to double down on finding balance between friendships and excelling at course work. My circle of tight friends grew the second I moved here. Faith and I were partners in crime. Now my syndicate has expanded to include a core of four more. These are friends I’d do anything for without question, and due to his injury, Everest tops the list.
Am I going all in because of our friendship or something more? We don’t have something more, I remind myself. Regardless, I’m off my stride trying to keep it all together.
I’ve had to tell Matiu I’m overwhelmed right now. We met for coffee that Wednesday more than two weeks ago. Longer? God, I can’t keep track. He texts, and I’ve only added reactions. I can’t engage or add another core friend to my life until I find some much-needed balance.
My phone pings with a text from Mom:
Baby girl! How are you? Tell me every little thing about your classes.
Shit. Crap. I won’t lie to Mom:
Super busy. I’ll call next weekend and give the full update!
She adds the heart reaction to my text.
Guilt swamps me. I glance down at my laptop and my unfinished work.
Faith knocks on my door. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Two minutes.” I have to add a conclusion to the assignment I’m writing for health science. My hands shake as I type. I’ve downed two energy drinks in the last hour. Too many of my priorities collide in my head. Concentrate on the task at hand, I scold myself. Breathe in, hold, release. You’ve got this. I have to read what I’ve written once more to make sure my conclusion notes all pertinent data and that everything is absolutely clear.
I pray that I nailed it, and add it to the cloud-based class folder, then click out of the file. I click back in to make absolutely sure it posted and breathe a sigh of relief.
I have two more assignments due this weekend. I stuff my laptop into my backpack. Maybe I can sneak in homework time at Everest’s house while he watches his Gladiators play without him. A pang hits my chest for him. This sucks. “Done,” I call out.
“Cool. Let’s go,” she replies from somewhere inside her room.
We meet in our little common room. “How does Everest afford to live off-campus?” I ask when the thought occurs.
“The house is owned outright by his mother’s distant cousin.” Faith locks the door before we walk down the hall toward the elevators.
“She wants rental income but doesn’t have the cash to have any work done on the place for non-family to rent.” Pressing the down button for the elevator she shrugs. “Plus, an abandoned house in this area can fall victim to squatters. Everest takes care of all repairs. Chrysler and Dex pay the reduced, family-friendly rent.”
Interesting. And a good deal. Sure, the place is older, but it’s mostly tidy and not falling apart. We climb into the car when it arrives. “Does he work in the off-season?”
“He builds websites for small businesses as a side hustle year-round. He makes good money doing that. One of his mom’s friends writes cozy mysteries. The author begged Everest to build a website for her platform. She’s referred him to a ton of other authors.”
“I am agog. Anyone we read, pray tell?”
“Mostly mystery and one urban fantasy author who writes about a badass, necromancer werewolf, and a sexy vampire master of the city. It’s a popular series. I’m hooked. As far as I know, he hasn’t created anything for a historical romance author yet.”
“Wouldn’t that be a small thrill? He could pose for romance book covers and make bank. In fact, most of the Gladiators could do it as a side hustle.”
“True. I can hear Baloo now, ‘All I gotta do is hold a sword, take my shirt off, and scowl at the camera? Sign me up,’” Faith says in a decent impersonation of the wicked-hot Gladiator defensive end.
I snort out a laugh remembering Everest’s over-the-top teammate. Then I sober when another thought occurs. “Everest’s tuition is paid through a football scholarship, right?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“I wonder if his injury will put his full-ride tuition at risk?” The question makes my stomach wobble on his behalf.
Her face goes blank, and she bites her lip. “I’ll have to ask Caleb,” she admits softly.
Oh my God.
We arrive at Everest’s house thirty minutes later, after making a quick stop at Goose’s for street tacos, guacamole, and chips. We use the spare key Everest gave us, and call out as we step through the door, “Yoo-hoo.” I yodel like Granny Kay would have done. “Are you decent?”
He barks out a laugh. “Come on in.”
Damn.The man is fine. Lounging on the couch, injured knee elevated, wearing a pair of black shorts and a gold Gladiators T-shirt stretching across his chest.
My gaze narrows on his knee brace. “Where’s your cold pack?”
“I’ve been cleared not to ice unless I have pain or swelling,” he advises placidly.
Relief flows through me. I join him on the couch. “That’s excellent progress.”
Faith sets the food down at the end of the table. “I’m grabbing plates—it’s almost kickoff.”
“Need help?” I ask. When she shakes her head, I turn to Everest. “How are you feeling? How did your last PT session go?”
“Good actually. Sore afterward, but that’s expected.”
I pat his thigh.
His muscle flexes beneath my hand. Then realize I probably shouldn’t have touched his leg. “Sorry.”
He spears a heated glance in my direction. His ocean eyes draw me in and hold my gaze. My core pulls tight.
Faith breezes in with plates, and I glance away.
We eat while watching the game. Everest goes eerily quiet. His need to be on the field is almost tangible. Faith and I cheer when the Gladiators score and remain silent when they struggle for yardage. Everest concentrates on the game like he hit the mute button on his emotions.
Faith moans when Caleb takes a hard hit between two opponents. He stays down for five seconds while he beats a closed fist against the turf. Then he rolls to his feet, throws the ball to the ref, and jogs to the sideline.
We all let out a sigh of relief.
I’m used to my dad and uncles losing their minds over the Pats. My family is loud while watching sports—even Mom yells at the TV during games. I thought our roof might collapse from the noise when the Red Sox beat the curse and finally won the World Series.
Watching this game in near silence makes me feel like I’ve held a grimace for three hours. Fortis loses by six points on an interception thrown by Dallas for a touchdown with thirty seconds left in the game.
Everest points the remote at the TV, cutting off post-game analysis offered by booth commentators. The Gladiator offensive line clearly misses its mountain, and poor T-Rex can’t block without Everest’s expertise.
His face carefully blank—he pinches the bridge of his nose—then reaches for his crutches. “Thanks for coming over. I’m going to crash for a bit.”
I’m not going to let him wallow. His injury isn’t his fault. “I have a better idea. Let’s watch The Avengers. Anything with Iron Man, a lot of butt kicking, and funny one-liners,” I cajole.
Faith adds, “Excellent idea.”
Everest glances at me, his expression inscrutable. “You’re a Marvel Universe fan?”
“What’s not to like?” All the hot men of the MU cue up in brain. Plus, it’s hard not to get sucked into well-written stories about superheroes protecting earth and all humankind. Best kind of visual to make you forget other, more pressing issues like what Everest might have been thinking about after his team’s disappointing loss.