Kicked (16 page)

My mind was a swirl of positive thoughts. The pain was there, too, beneath it all, sitting silently. I shook any dark thoughts away and took his hand. Trent’s shoulders relaxed, and his large palm engulfed my small one. We shook as if we’d just completed a business deal, but his touch was far more than a simple gesture. Warmth snaked through me, and I grew hotter the longer I looked into his light green eyes. How could he still have this effect on me after all he’d done?

“Glad we’re in agreement.” Landon walked between us, and I dropped my hand. “You girls change clothes and get ready. I’ll wait here. Keep watch and all that.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Not a chance. Both of you go outside and wait for us. We’ll be down in fifteen.”

Landon scrunched up one side of his face in disgust. “I have to wait with him? Why can’t I stay in here?”

“You know why, perv. Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t care if he stays,” Ellie called from the bathroom, and the oversized t-shirt she had been wearing flew out the door and onto her bed.

“See?” Landon grinned and tried to lean over and get a look at Ellie.

“Out! Now!” I pushed him toward the door as Trent opened it.

Landon walked out first. Trent hesitated, and all the air seemed to evaporate from the room. The look in his eyes was fire, and my lips tingled when his gaze settled on them.

He bent down so his mouth was close to my ear. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Okay.” Was that my breathy voice?

He closed the door, and I backed away and sat on my bed, my head still spinning. Pulling out my phone, I dialed my dad.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, sugar!”

I winced at how badly he was slurring. “Hi Dad. I’ve got some news.”

“Wha-what you got?”

“You know how I’m the kicker, right?”

“Soccer. You always loved soccer.” He laughed and I could hear him swallowing, liquor no doubt.

“Football, Dad. Remember?”

“Sorry, right.”

“Well, they had tryouts because our first-string kicker got hurt last—”

“I saw it, Cordy baby. I sure did. You tried your best. It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

I sighed, though my exasperation had never overcome his drunkenness and likely never would. “I know, Daddy. That’s not what I’m talking about. They had tryouts, and I made first-string. I’ll have a full scholarship for the rest of this year and next.”

“First-string? You’re the starting kicker?” He laughed, pleasure in the notes until it turned into a gut-wrenching cough. Once he had it under control, he continued, “I’m so goddamn proud of you, I don’t even know if I’m coming or going!”

“Hey, hey Bonnie. My daughter is the starting kicker at Billingsley. You hear that?”

I heard a woman reply, but couldn’t make out her words. It had to have been Bonnie Trapper, the widow from down the street.

“Thanks, babe.” A sloppy kiss sounded from his end of the line, and I held the phone far away from my ear. After a moment, I put it back. “Yeah Cordy, I’m just proud as all hell. So glad you got out. So glad you’re making more of yourself. I don’t know what I’d do without you to hold on—” He choked up, and tears welled in my eyes at the emotion in his words. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done. The best thing.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I mean it, Cordy.” He sniffled. “You make me so proud.”

“Thanks.” I wiped at the tear that rolled down my cheek. “My friends are taking me to celebrate.”

“Perfect!” He coughed. “Get to it. Have a good time, and be safe. Maybe I can make it down to watch a game sometime soon.”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. Love you, Cordy.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

We hung up, and I sat in a daze for a few minutes. Had so much really happened in the space of ten minutes?

Ellie puttered around in the bathroom. “You think Trent will take us somewhere fancy? Like maybe La Café Blanc? I’ve always wanted to go.”

My stomach twisted at the thought of going back there. “No, I doubt it.”

“What are you wearing?”

I wiped the last tear and stored my father’s praise somewhere deep inside me to use when I needed it. “Jeans, I guess. Maybe a sweater?”

“No.” She popped her head out, one of her eyes ringed with eyeliner. “Dress nice. He’s a Carrington, and,” she shrugged, “you deserve to celebrate, I guess. But your clothes are shit.” She ducked back into the bathroom. “Pick something out of my side of the closet.”

I muttered under my breath and went to the closet. My clothes were the basics—t-shirts, jeans, sweaters, some hoodies. I had one dress. I’d worn it to my high school graduation three years prior, and it was covered in garish pink flowers. Ellie may have had a point this one time.

I scanned over to her side of the closet, which was always bursting. Digging through, I found a pretty blue dress. I held it up to my front and realized my boobs would be spilling out the front. “Definitely not.” I put it back and kept looking. Another, lighter blue dress caught my eye. It, too, suffered from a scoop neckline that was far lower than I’d ever worn.

“Move.” Ellie padded up, wearing only her panties, and pushed me to the side. Her fingers expertly maneuvered through the multitude of hangers and seized on one in particular. She pulled it out and hung it over her back. “This one.”

It was a deep crimson sweater dress with a cute brown belt around the middle.

“It looks kind of short.”

She bent over and tossed a pair of brown knee-high boots onto our rug. “What size shoe do you wear?”

“Seven,” I said and held the dress up to me. It would fit.

“I’m eight, but it’s just for tonight. You’ll be fine.”

“I have boots.”

She turned around, her perky tits on full display. I turned my head so fast I worried I might have pulled something.

“Your boots are made for mucking out horse stalls, not a night on the town. Trust me. Go put some makeup on, and take your hair down. I’ll come and fix it once I’m dressed.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, Ellie dressed me and did my makeup. By the time she finished, I was wearing her dress, her heeled boots, and only as much makeup as I could stand.

“Voila!” She smiled at me in the mirror, her big blue eyes looking at me instead of herself for a change. “Much better than the tomboy crap you usually wear.”

It felt strange, but not necessarily bad. I was just so used to being on the soccer field, or the football field, or sitting in my spot in the library, that I didn’t spend much time on my looks. Ellie had enough makeup to paint me a hundred times over, but she’d been sparing at my request. My light brown eyes almost glowed, even in the stark bathroom lighting, and the dress hugged my curves.

Ellie wore the blue dress I’d originally snagged from her closet, the neckline cutting low across her tan chest. “Let’s blow this joint. Come on.”

The night was cold, an icy wind blowing through the holly bushes and oak trees around the dorm. Trent’s car was out front, the headlights shining and the engine nearly silent. We hurried down the steps. I slid into the passenger seat while Ellie climbed in the back.

“Where’s Landon?” I fastened my seatbelt.

“He said he needed to have a quick chat with Brandy.” The look on Trent’s face told me he believed they were “chatting” just as much as I did.

“Oh. I guess we’ll wait then.” I sank into the smooth leather.

Ellie pulled out her phone and started texting.

Trent cleared his throat. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” My fingers itched to pull the top of the dress closed more, but Trent’s eyes weren’t on my chest. I met his gaze and slowly began to melt.

“I’d wanted to talk.” He glanced back at Ellie. “It’ll have to wait, I guess. But there’s more to what I was trying to tell you. I said everything wrong. I didn’t mean—”

My phone rang, the sound a rising series of chimes. Dad was calling.

“Hang on.” I dug my phone out and swiped to answer it. “Dad?”

“Cordy?” A woman’s voice, worry in her tone.

“Yes.” I sat straighter. “Mrs. Trapper? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, honey. A little while after you got off the phone with your dad, he had some kind of fit. We called the ambulance. They’re taking him out now.”

All the blood drained from my face. “Is he going to be okay?”

Trent took my left hand, but all I could focus on was Mrs. Trapper and muted voices in the background.

“They don’t know. One of them said some kind of toxins maybe led to a seizure, but they don’t know.”

“I’m coming home. Tell Dad I’m on my way.” My mouth was moving, and I was saying words, but my heart was in a vise.

“He’s not conscious—oh, okay. We’re leaving. I’m riding with him to the hospital. I’ll call if anything changes. I have to go.”

“Wait, Mrs. Trapper—”

The line went silent.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

T
RENT

I
KNEW IT WAS
bad when her tan skin paled and she clutched the phone with a death grip.

When the call was over, she stared at the phone, disbelief in her eyes. “I have to go.”

“What is it?”

“My dad. Something’s wrong. They’re taking him to the hospital.”

“Shit.” Ellie patted her shoulder. “Sorry.”

Cordy reached for the door handle.

I squeezed her hand. “Wait. How long does it take to get to Gray Valley?”

“Five hours. Maybe a little more. I-I have to go.”

“I’ll drive.” I wasn’t about to let her face this alone. Her father was the only family she had left. I caught Ellie’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you dinner another time.”

“No, it’s cool.” She squeezed Cordy’s shoulder one last time before opening the door and climbing out. “Call if I can help.”

“We will.” I shifted to reverse as she closed the door.

“I can drive.” Cordy’s voice was thin, quiet.

“You’re in no shape to drive.” I reached across her and re-fastened her seatbelt, then pulled out onto University Drive.

She leaned back in the seat, tears silently running down her cheeks. “But we have practice in the morning.”

“Fuck practice.” I took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Everything will be okay.”

“I just talked to him. I called to tell him about making first-string. He was fine.” The pain in her voice tore at me.

I tried to think clearly even though I wanted nothing more than to stop the car and pull her into my arms. She needed me, and I wasn’t going to let her down. “Is there anyone else we can call? A friend of your dad’s or someone else you know in Gray Valley?”

“Charlie, my dad’s best friend.” She dialed him and gave him the news as I took the highways leading to the interstate.

When she hung up, I programmed in her home address and settled in for the trip.

“Everything will be all right.” I held her hand as we flew down the dark road.

We drove for five hours, only speaking here and there as she made calls to Mrs. Trapper and Charlie. Her father was awake, but not alert enough to talk. They’d given him some pain medication and run tests to figure out what had happened.

By the time we made it to the hospital in the rolling hills of West Virginia, it was midnight.

I parked out front and hurried inside with Cordy. After checking with the front desk, we followed the attendant’s directions deeper into the hospital and up a few floors.

Cordy was almost at a run when we reached her father’s room. It was small with a window that looked out onto some woods. A stout woman sat at his bedside, and an older man rose and hugged Cordy.

“Charlie, how is he?”

“We don’t know. They think it’s his liver.”

Her father was asleep. He looked about sixty with a faded gray beard and a head full of silver hair. Deep wrinkles along his forehead hinted at a lifetime of worry, and he looked thin.

Cordy sat down on the bed and took his hand in hers.

“You are?” Charlie, a tall, wide man with an even larger beard than Cordy’s father, put out his hand.

I took it and shook. “Trent Carrington. A friend of Cordy’s from school.”

He narrowed his light eyes. “Come a long way just for a friend.”

I nodded. “I think any true friend would have done the same.”

“Heh.” He grinned, two of his front bottom teeth missing. “Good man. This here is Mrs. Trapper.”

She took my hand in hers and gave me a warm smile. Even at her age, she was a looker with a killer figure.

“You can call me Bonnie. I’m so glad you came. I hated to worry Cordy like this, but I couldn’t tell how serious it would be.” She withdrew her hand and tucked a dark lock of hair, shot through with silver, behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

“Daddy?” Cordy leaned over, getting a better look at her father. “Why is he asleep?”

Mrs. Trapper gave her a quick hug. “He got to hurting, so the doctors gave him something to help him sleep through the night.”

I stood behind Cordy and put my hand on her shoulder, giving what comfort I could. “Where’s the doctor?”

“They called in a specialist from Charleston. He’s supposed to be here first thing in the morning.” Charlie shrugged. “The on-duty doc thinks it’s his liver. That maybe he’s got a liver problem, and the fluid built up and caused toxic shock or some such.”

“Oh God.” A sob caught in Cordy’s throat.

I rubbed her shoulder, letting her know I was there but not crowding her.

“He likes his whiskey. We all know that.” Charlie sank back down into the chair. “I do, too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small flask.

“Charlie!” Mrs. Trapper put her hands on her hips. “Not at a time like this.”

“Ain’t no time better.” He took a quick swig and stowed the flask as Mrs. Trapper glared at him.

“We should be going.” Mrs. Trapper moved around the bed and dropped a kiss on Mr. Baxter’s forehead. “I have second shift at the diner tomorrow, and I want to be here first thing when the doctor from Charleston shows up.” She gave Cordy a matching kiss. “He’ll be okay. He’s tougher than a buckeye nut.”