“You got cut by a football?” one guy asks, seemingly mind-boggled.
“Is that even possible?” another guy asks.
I pick up the football like it’s a weapon and examine it quickly. I toss the ball to the last guy who spoke and nodded. “It’s possible, all right. If the strings draw across the skin just right, with that much speed, it can definitely tear skin.” I look back at Kingston, who seems to be avoiding my eyes—out of embarrassment or anger, I’m not sure. It wouldn’t surprise me if he blames me for losing his focus. “Does anyone have a clean towel?”
A guy about Kingston’s size steps forward and hands me a white towel. I thank him before turning back to assess the damage. The skin around where he’s cupping his face is already turning red, and more blood is starting to seep around the edge of his hand.
Eight years ago, the sight of that blood would have been enough to roll my stomach. But with the amount of activity that goes on year-round at camp, I’ve seen it all.
“Here,” I say, lifting the towel slowly toward his face. “Move your hand away for a second.”
He turns enough to signal that he’s refusing my offering, and anger stampedes through me. I am not in the mood for Kingston’s shit today, not after the phone call I received earlier, and definitely not while he’s bleeding all over the field.
“You might need stitches,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Let me look at it.”
He waves away my suggestion with his free hand while looking at everything and everyone but me. “Nah, I’m good.”
“C’mon, King,” says the guy who threw the ball. “Zach would want you to get checked out. Just let her look.”
“Yeah, well, Zach isn’t here right now, is he?” Kingston snaps back.
“Calm down, dude. Just listen to the damn nurse. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Does she?” Kingston seethes through his words while glaring back at me.
“As a matter of fact, she does,” I bite back.
“You’re a nurse,” he spits out. “What are you going to do? Put a Band-Aid on it?”
If there’s one thing that gets me fired up, it’s someone demeaning the role I’ve worked so hard for. “I’m an APRN, which means I have a master’s in nursing. Trust me, I can do far more than apply a bandage.” Then I notice blood isn’t just dripping around his hands now. There’s a pool of it. “Which it looks like you might need.” Fed up with his resistance, I step forward and get directly under his nose. “Move. Your. Hand.” Each word is void of the annoyance I feel, but I know he doesn’t miss the warning buried inside my tone.
His eyes widen a bit like he’s shocked, or maybe he’s scared. I don’t know. All I care about is that he is finally obeying. As he moves his hands away, I cover the cut with the towel while taking a quick glance at it. I can’t be sure until I’ve taken a good look, but judging by the amount of blood and how long the cut seems, Kingston is going to need those stitches after all.
As I slowly apply more pressure to the wound in hopes of stopping the bleeding, I notice how Kingston continues to look around us like he wants to be anywhere but right here with me. I don’t entirely understand why. I get that maybe he’s stubborn or embarrassed. But usually, his anger is aimed at me in a flirtatious way, not like this.
One of his teammates hands me another clean towel and a bottle of water. When the cloth is soaked, I uncover his face and pour water over the wound to get a quick look at the cut. I ignore Kingston’s muffled growl and focus on the task at hand. It only takes a glance to confirm exactly what I was afraid of. While the cut may not be too deep, it’s long and too close to his eye. He’s definitely going to need some sort of stitch to close the wound.
I press the clean towel over the wound and brace myself before telling him the news. The discomfort of trying to tend to Kingston with my arm stretched as far as it will go to reach him, with his teammates staring at the both of us, and the sour look on his face is bad enough without what’s about to come next.
“What’s going on?” Zach asks as he weaves his way through his teammates to get to us.
“Nothing,” Kingston snaps. Then he pulls away from me, replacing my hand with his to hold the towel in place. “Nance hit me in the fucking eye. I’ll be fine.”
“King took his eye off the ball,” Nance says with a lift of his hands. “It would have been a perfect catch.”
“That was a nice pass, man,” another player says. “What was that? A sixty-yarder?”
Other guys start to chime in with how impressed they are, which only appears to make Kingston angrier. “Whatever. It was weak. You’re second string for a reason, Nance. Now we know why.”
Nance glares back at King before letting out a laugh then shaking his head. “You know what? Fuck you, dude.”
“Fuck you,” King shouts back.
Nance steps forward then stops himself. “I’m not dumb. I know what this is about. You should know it wasn’t me who ratted you out to Coach. I wouldn’t do that”
“Then you’re saying it was Balko?”
Nance shrugs. “I don’t know, man. Does it matter? You got off easy. Maybe you should be grateful for that instead of walking around here like you have a bone to pick with your teammates. This week isn’t about you, King. It’s about the kids.”
Nance walks away from the crowd of men, and most of the guys follow suit.
Zach’s hard eyes are on Kingston, but his words are aimed at me. “He needs stitches?”
I start to respond, but Kingston snaps, “No, I don’t need stitches. I told you, I’m fine.”
With a sigh, Zach looks at me, his eyes softening. “Silver, do you mind giving us a minute?”
I nod and move away while Zach shoos away the rest of the guys, leaving him alone with Kingston near the end zone. I expect yelling and cursing or fighting, but I’m surprised by the exchange that I can’t hear. Zach is speaking calmly, but firmly, and Kingston is bowing his head, actually listening.
There’s no mistaking the wrought anger dripping off Kingston when he finally gives in to whatever Zach is telling him and trudges off the field toward me. I’m standing on the sidelines, shaking off the discomfort as I realize I have to spend more time with the grumpy jock and his bad energy today. I’m not in the mood, but work is work, and this is what I was meant to do with my life. I truly believe that.
Kingston doesn’t even stop when he reaches me. He just keeps on walking toward the path that leads to my office, and I’m trailing behind him with no desire to catch up. He’s cranky, but so am I. Before heading out to the field, I was looking forward to spending some time away from the office. Kingston, yet again, is throwing a wrench in all that I’m used to.
He’s waiting for me outside the main entrance and lets me walk inside first. He’s quiet up until he gets into the examination room and stops in front of the table.
“There’s no fucking way I’m letting you put a needle through my skin, princess. I just didn’t want to piss my team captain off, seeing as he runs this shit show of a camp I’ve been forced to come to.”