Chapter 1

Oliver felt like death on a cracker. As far as fuckups went, this was in his top five. If Cassidy died, he’d do serious jail time. He knew how this stuff went because his older brother had served five years in prison for something similar.

He’d spent the night in the hospital to avoid rotting in a jail cell. Oliver looked at the clock; it was just after nine in the morning. That would make it two a.m. the next day in Sydney. Fuck it, his brother would have to understand.

“Who died, mate?” Tom, Oliver’s brother, asked.

“Tom, I need your help.”

Oliver explained what had happened.

“How badly hurt is the sheila?”

“I don’t know. They had to cut her out of the car, and there was blood everywhere.”

“Were you pissed?” Tom asked.

“I was over the legal limit. What I want to know—” Oliver began, but his brother cut him off.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” Tom asked emphatically.

“There’s no one I trust more, but—”

“No buts. We’re done with the buts and the whys and the stories. Whatever else comes out of your mouth this morning better not be a question,” Tom said.

Oliver knew that when his brother sounded like this, he was dead serious, and Oliver should listen.

“The coppers will be there soon to take you in. You need to be gone,” Tom said. “Go home only long enough to pack a bag and grab your passport, then take the train to San Francisco. Once there, lie low while I talk to the rellies to arrange to get you out of the States.”

Oliver guessed that Tom would call their uncle because he was swimming in it and had places all over the world. He figured he could hide out for a while until everything cooled down.

“Good on ya, mate. I owe you,” Oliver said and hung up.

Tom would come through for him.

David had spent the night in the uncomfortable waiting room. He’d made arrangements for Roy Tyro, the owner of Lincoln Flight School, to fly Cassidy’s dad and brother in. David had called his mom, and she’d agreed to have them stay with his family at the Malibu house and to arrange transportation for them once they arrived.

Brook was also flying in.

Pam and Tracy, Cassidy’s roommates, had called when they saw the alert. David had told them to get a good night’s sleep and come in the morning.

He was zoning out when Pam sat down next to him.

“Coffee?”

She handed it to him.

“Ahh, the nectar of my people.”

Tracy chuckled as she sat down next to Pam.

“Tell us,” Pam ordered.

“Cassidy had three surgeries overnight, one to relieve the pressure on her brain and another to stop some internal bleeding in her gut. They also worked on her arm, but I was told what they did was only temporary. They’ll need an orthopedist and a vascular surgeon to fix it.”

“What about rowing?” Pam asked.

“I don’t know,” was David’s honest answer and biggest fear.

He’d seen how messed up Cassidy’s arm was when they pulled her out of the wreck. When the first doctor came out to give him an update, he’d said they might have to take the arm, but David was adamant they not do that until her dad got there. He had Brook looking for the best surgeons to give Cassidy a chance at using the arm again.

Both bones in her left forearm were broken in multiple places, and the flesh looked like someone had taken a meat mallet to it. The doctor thought he might have to take the arm because he was afraid they might not be able to return proper circulation if the veins were compromised. They did what they could, but soon, another surgery—maybe more than one—would be needed to deal with the bones and circulatory system.

“We’re sending you home to get some sleep. We promise to call you with any updates,” Tracy said.

“If you need anything, call my mom or dad,” David said as he got up to leave.

“Where the hell is Dawson?” Jason Merritt asked his offensive coordinator, Wyatt Thomas.

“He left a message. Last night, Oliver Shaw was driving while drunk and had a serious car accident. Cassidy Hope was in the passenger seat and is in critical condition.”

“Jesus. Was Shaw hurt?”

“They held him overnight for observation, but David said he should be okay,” Wyatt said. “David spent the night at the hospital. I understand Cassidy needed several emergency surgeries. David’s gone home to get some sleep.”

“This couldn’t have come at a worse time. Give him today to get his head straightened out, but he needs to be at practice Monday.”

“Should I have Amy reach out to him? She’s a psychologist, after all.”

“Good call. If anyone can get David focused, it’s Amy,” Jason said. “Let’s get the other quarterbacks in here. One of them might have to step up and take David’s place.”

“What about Matt?” Wyatt asked.

“Long is suspended, and I’m not about to make an exception just because Dawson flakes out. Hell, we’ll just hand the ball off and still win the UNLV game.”

“I’ll get them in here.”

As the interim head coach, Jason was already under a ton of pressure. He felt bad for David’s friend, and the team loved her, but he didn’t have the luxury of letting his feelings get in the way of his job. His job was to win football games ... period.

David hovered somewhere between asleep and awake, too afraid to face the realities the day would bring. The sun streamed through his window, warm on his face. He glanced over at the clock; he’d slept five hours, so it was mid-afternoon.

He closed his eyes and, when he couldn’t avoid it any longer, opened them again. It took a moment to get the sleep out of his eyes, but they finally snapped into super-sharp-high-def, and he took a deep breath and shoved his sheets to the side.

“Get up,” David said to himself, knowing if he slept any more, he’d never get to sleep that night.

He put on a pair of shorts and wandered out into the living area. Alex was only wearing boxers, obviously embracing a college Sunday before school started.

“What smells so good?” David asked.

“Crystal stopped by and brought you something to eat. I was told that if I touched it, she’d come in during the middle of the night and cut my nuts off.”

David opened the bag and was impressed that Alex had shown so much self-restraint. The bag held an Italian beef sandwich, a cup of hot giardiniera, and fries. Plus, it was all still warm.

“Split it with me?” David asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Alex said as he jumped up and grabbed plates and a couple of Mountain Dews from the fridge.

“You want to cut it?” David asked.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because in my family, whoever cuts it has to let the other person pick their half. My mom put that rule in place so my brother and I wouldn’t fight,” David explained.

“Whatever, I trust you.”

David carefully measured it out and sliced the sandwich down the middle. He gave Alex his half while he put the spicy Italian relish on his own and took a big bite—heaven. As he ate, David called Tracy.

“Any word?”

“They put her into an induced coma,” Tracy shared.

“Why would they do that?” David asked.

“For the bleeding in the brain. The doctor explained that it helps with ‘burst suppression.’ The brain goes completely quiet for several seconds, alternating with short bursts of activity. The brain’s quiet period gives it vital time to rest and heal.”

David’s appetite was suddenly gone, so he handed Alex his fries.

“How bad is she?” David asked.

“The doctor said she’s in good shape, and they think she’ll come out of it just fine. But the healing process will take some time.”

“Has anyone else shown up?”

“Cassidy’s dad and brother are in with her. Brook is here. Do you want to talk to her?” Tracy asked.

She handed the phone to Brook.

“I found a couple of doctors for her arm,” Brook said without preamble. “One specializes in sports medicine, orthopedic trauma, and fracture management, and focuses on shoulder, elbow, wrist, and hand injuries. Dr. Varhus has agreed to come to examine Cassidy today.

“The other is a specialist in vascular surgery. As bad as her arm is, he’s the one who has the most challenging job. Dr. Nayan is one of the best.

“It’s going to take both of them to save her arm,” Brook shared.

“Are you flying them in?” David asked.

“Not necessary. Dr. Varhus is stuck in LA traffic, and Dr. Nayan is already here.”

“I need to take a shower, and I’ll be there shortly. Does anyone need anything?”

“Real food might be nice.”

“Okay, I’ll stop and get something,” David said before hanging up.

He grabbed his grocery app and ordered a bunch of food, and it said his order would be ready for pick up in thirty minutes.

As he was ordering online, Alex asked what was going on, so David gave him the Reader’s Digest version of all that had happened.

Alex was stunned and didn’t know what to say other than, “I hope she’s better soon.”

So did David.

Coach Stackhouse had been asked to come and check on their quarterback. She wanted to make sure David didn’t lose focus on his commitment to the football team while supporting his friend. Coach Stackhouse found him in the ICU waiting room, off to the side, looking pale.

“How are you feeling, David?” she asked.

David looked up. She could see he was confused as to why she was there. Coach Stackhouse sat down beside him.

“I’m fine.”

“How’s Cassidy?”

“They’ve induced a coma for her brain injury, and the ortho guy just saw her. He’s concerned about her left arm. But he thinks he and his team can work with the vascular guy and come up with a plan to put it back together again.”

“Oliver has gone missing. How does that make you feel?” Coach Stackhouse asked.

David cocked his head like a dog does when it hears something out of the ordinary.

“What’s your degree in?”

“I’m a psychologist.”

“Thought so. My uncle’s one, and he loves all that touchy-feely stuff,” David said, then his face clouded over. “What do you mean, Oliver’s missing?”

“His roommate said he came into the dorm, gathered some stuff in a suitcase, and left. The police are concerned he may try to flee the country.”

David shrugged and then surprised her.

“Good. I hope he gets away.”

She wasn’t buying it. If anything, David should be ready to go out, find Oliver, and mete out his own justice.

“That’s an enlightened response.”

David shrugged again. Coach Stackhouse had a bad feeling that David knew he had the resources to find Oliver whenever he wanted. She guessed that, at that moment, Cassidy was his priority. But after his friend was well, Oliver might have a problem.

“So, why are you here?” David asked.

“Honestly, for two reasons. The first is to assess whether you’re ready to take over as USC’s number one quarterback.”

“And number two?”

“To tell you you’re required to attend Monday’s practice. You have until then to get yourself together.”

He smiled for the first time. That response caused Coach Stackhouse to quit worrying about him. David had shown he was more mature than almost all other guys his age, and he knew what his responsibilities were.

“You should talk to my uncle because you’re a much better psychologist than he is. I just need someone to tell me what they expect, and I’m good.”