Susan Carlisle - One Night Before Christmas

Dalton had nothing to base that type of camaraderie on. Long ago he’d given up on that idea. Unable to think of anything to say, he muttered, “That makes sense.”

She touched his arm. Her small hand left a warm place behind when she removed it to point at Rocket. “Watch him when he makes this move.”

The hesitation was so minor that Dalton might have missed it if he hadn’t been looking as she instructed.

“Did you see it?”

“I did. It was almost as if he didn’t realize he did it.” He was impressed that she had caught it to begin with.

“Exactly. I noticed it during one practice. Called him in and did X-rays. Dad insisted I contact you. We can’t afford for Rocket to be out.”

He looked at her. “Afford?”

She continued to watch the action on the field. “Yeah. This is big business for the team as well as for all these guys’ careers.”

He looked at Rocket and made no effort to keep the skepticism out of his voice when he asked, “No life after football?”

She stepped back and gave him a sharp look. “Yes. That’s the point. A successful season means endorsements, which means money in their pockets. That doesn’t even include the franchise.”

“And all this hinges on Rocket?”

“No, but he’s an important part.” She looked around and leaned so close he could smell her shampoo. “The star—for now.”

He wasn’t convinced but he nodded and said, “I think I get it.”

Melanie’s expression implied she wasn’t sure he did.

They continued to watch practice from the edge of the sideline. The team was playing on the far end of the field.

“How long has Rocket...?” he began.

She turned to look at him.

Over her shoulder he saw a huge player barreling in their direction. His helmeted head was turned away as he looked at the ball in the air. Not thinking twice, Dalton wrapped his arms around Melanie and swiveled to the side so he would take the brunt of the hit. Slammed with a force he would later swear was the equivalent of a speeding train, his breath swooshed from his lungs. His arms remained around Melanie as they went through the air and landed on the Astroturf floor with a thud. The landing felt almost as hard as the original hit. He and Melanie ended up a tangle of legs and arms as the player stumbled over their bodies.

There was no movement from the soft form in his arms. Fear seized him. Had she been hurt? A moan brushed his cheek. At least she was alive. He loosened his hold and rolled to his side but his hands remained in place. Searching Melanie’s face, he watched as her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him with a look of uncertainty.

“What...what happened?”

Dalton drew in a breath, causing his chest to complain. He would be in considerable pain in the morning. “We got hit.”

“By what?”

“Doc Mel, you okay?” a player asked from above them.

Dalton looked up to find players and staff circling them.

A large man with bulging biceps sounded as if he might cry.

“I’m sorry, Doc Mel. Are you okay? I tried to stop.” If that had been his idea of slowing down, Dalton would have hated being on the receiving end of the player’s full power. Dalton returned his attention to Melanie. One of his hands rested beneath her shoulder and the other on her stomach. Her cheek was against his lips. “Do you think you can stand?”

“Why did you grab me?”

“Because you could have been hurt if I hadn’t.” Didn’t she understand he might have just saved her life?

“Hurt?” She turned her head toward him. Her eyes were still dazed. “You have pretty eyes.”

Dalton swallowed hard, which did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. She must have a head injury because he couldn’t imagine her saying something so forward.

“Lie right where you are,” one of the people above them commanded. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Dalton shifted. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The trainer said, “Yes, it is. You both need to be checked out.”

“Look, I’m a doctor. I would know if I need...”

“Now you’re a patient.” A man with a staff shirt said, “Mel, where do you hurt?”

Dalton’s hand moved to her waist and gave it a gentle shake. “Dr. Hyde, can you move?”

“Melanie...my name is Melanie,” she murmured.

Three of the trainers shifted to one side of her and placed their arms under her, preparing to lift her enough to separate them.

“Melanie, they’re going to move you.” Dalton took his hands away.

She nodded then made a noise of acceptance and the trainers went to work. Dalton started to rise and a couple of the trainers placed their hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

A few minutes later the sound of the ambulances arriving caught his attention.

* * *

Melanie wasn’t clear on all that had occurred before she woke up in the brightly lit emergency room.

“What’s going on?” She looked at David, one of the trainers, who was sitting in a chair across the room.

“You were in an accident on the practice field.”

Before David could elaborate, a white-haired doctor entered. “So, how are you feeling?” He stepped close to the bed and pulled out a penlight.

Slowly the events came back to her. She started to sit up. “How is Dr. Reynolds?”

The doctor pushed her shoulder, making her lie back. “First let me do my examination, then you can go check on him.”

She settled back.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” David said and went out the door.

“Now tell me what happened,” the doctor said as he lifted one of her eyelids.

Melanie relayed the events she recalled and finished with “and Dr. Reynolds took the impact of the hit.”

The doctor nodded thoughtfully. “That he did.”

“How bad is he?”

“If you’ll give me a few minutes to finish my exam you can go see for yourself.”

Melanie’s chest tightened. She hoped he wasn’t badly hurt. Thankfully, the doctor pronounced her well enough to go. The time that she waited for the nurse with the discharge papers only made her anxiety grow. Because of her, Dalton was hurt.

“What exam room is Dr. Reynolds in?” Melanie asked as she pulled on her shoes.

“Next door.” The nurse indicated to the right.

“Thanks.” Melanie rose slowly, still feeling dazed. She sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds. Her body would be sore tomorrow.

Minutes later, she knocked on the glass sliding door to the exam room. At a weak, “Come in,” she entered. Dalton still wore his slacks but no shirt. He had a nicely muscled chest. She groaned when she saw the ice pack resting on his left rib cage. His eyes were glazed as if he were in pain and his lips were drawn into a tight line. Guilt filled her.

Another one of the trainers stood in the corner of the room, typing on his cell phone. When she entered he slipped out, giving her the impression he was relieved to do so.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Dalton’s response came out more as a grumble than a word.

Melanie stepped farther into the room. She had to let him know how much she appreciated what he’d done. “Thank you.”

He nodded but his jaw remained tight.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been better.” The words were uttered between clenched teeth.

A stab of remorse plunged through her. He was here because of her. She approached the bed and moved to put her hand on his shoulder, then stopped herself. That would be far too personal. “Don’t talk if it hurts too much.”

A nurse entered.

Melanie didn’t give her time to pick up the chart before she asked, “How is he?” She had to find out something about his injuries without him having to do the speaking.