Friday Night Lights - "Let The Dust Settle In," Tim/Julie, M
Title: Let The Dust Settle In - 7/?
Author: lindentree
Rating: M
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 5,461
Summary: After getting together in If This One Could Be With You, Tim and Julie face a greater challenge: staying together. This story and the one preceding it are basically AU after 2x11 "Jumping the Gun."
Notes: Hi. I bet you thought this fic was dead, right? You thought wrong! I haven't given up on it, although I suspect I may be the only one. I have a plan, and I refuse to let it go unfinished, because thousands of unused words on my hard drive makes me sad. So, onward.
“There you are.”
Julie was dumping her books in her locker after her last class on Monday when she saw Tim for the first time. After breakfast with Tyra on Saturday, she spent the rest of the weekend doing homework and hanging out with her family, and her only contact with Tim had been the occasional text message.
It had been one tiny step below torture.
“Here I am,” she replied, turning to look up at him. He was staring at her with a goofy sort of half-smile on his face.
“How’re you doing, Miss Taylor?”
“I’m doing all right. How are you doing, Mr. Riggins?”
“Real good,” he replied, still smiling at her. “I’m doing real good.”
Julie smiled back at him, and then looked down, blushing. It was like she and Tim were the only two people in on the world’s best secret, one everyone should know about but which would be spoiled if she tried to share or explain it.
“Listen,” Tim said, “it’s supposed to be a short practice tonight. Think your parents would let me steal you for a couple hours?”
“I’m sure I could talk them into it,” she replied. “What did you have in mind?”
“Thought we could grab a bite to eat, see where the night takes us. That all right with you?”
“Yup,” Julie said, grinning. “So, are you gonna kiss me right now, or do I have to do everything around here?”
Tim grinned and pulled her close, kissing her. His hands slid up her back and into her hair, and he leaned forward, tilting her off-balance. Julie giggled and held onto him.
“Been thinking about you all weekend,” he said gruffly, next to her ear. Julie shivered.
“Likewise,” Julie replied, standing up straight to hug him, her nose pressed against the fabric of his plaid shirt.
“You been thinking about yourself all weekend?”
Julie grinned and smacked him on the shoulder. “Doofus.”
“Real nice,” Tim replied, grinning back at her. He loosened his arms enough to lean back and look at her properly, his hands clasped at the back of her neck.
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em,” Julie said. She sighed. “You should probably get to practice.”
“Yeah. You gonna come watch? Cheer me on?”
“As thrilling as it is to watch my dad bark orders at you, I’ve got a test to study for.”
“Maybe next time,” Tim said, tugging a piece of her hair between his fingers.
“Maybe,” Julie sighed, taking in the happy expression on his face. She bit her bottom lip. “So... When’s the next time we can get your house to ourselves?”
Tim grinned, his eyes alight. “Tomorrow, after practice, if you want.”
“I do want.”
“I’ve created a monster,” Tim muttered, shaking his head in feigned dismay.
“Hmph! You created nothing; this was all my initiative,” Julie replied.
Tim responded by leaning in and pressing a wet kiss to her neck.
“Ew!” she yelped, shoving at him. “Get off me. I repeat: doofus.”
“We don’t have to wait ‘til tomorrow night, you know,” he said. “Jules, this kind of situation is exactly why they even invented janitor’s closets.”
“Oh, gross! Go to practice, already.”
Tim stepped back and shouldered his bag. He gave her a little mock salute. “Later, Jules.”
“Later,” she replied. He turned and walked off down the hall towards the fieldhouse. Julie shook her head and closed her locker door. She was certain that she was the one who had created a monster - there would be no living with him now.
With a smile, she hugged her books to her chest and trudged to the library.
***
“Damn it, Cudmore!”
Tim hung his head and sighed as Coach called Blake Cudmore, the second string running back and Smash’s future replacement, over to the sidelines. Tim glanced up and watched as Coach grabbed the kid’s grill and gave him a shake.
“He should know this stuff already. What if Smash had gotten hurt during the season? He was second string and we were running these same plays then, too.”
Tim looked up to see Matt standing next to him, hands on his hips as he watched Coach tear a strip off Cudmore on the sidelines. He eyed Matt’s profile for a moment before spitting out his mouth guard. “You got that right,” he said. “He doesn’t pick it up soon, we’re gonna have to do some homework with him, Seven.”
“Yeah, whether we like it or not, judging by how pissed Coach is,” Matt replied. He turned and gave Tim a long look, and then turned his gaze away. “He ever give you game tape and plays to work on to keep you from spending time with Julie?”
Tim turned and looked at him. He had figured that, on the field, they were pretending the whole Julie thing didn’t exist. Apparently not. “No, but then I’m not QB.” He paused and cleared his throat. “The Taylors like to have me over a lot for movies and Scrabble. Guess it’s kinda the same thing.”
Matt smiled and gave a shrug of his shoulder pads. “Good luck with that, there, Riggins.”
Coach blew his whistle and Cudmore jogged back onto the field. Matt gave him a nod, which Tim returned. They listened as Coach told them to run a different play. He blew his whistle again and all of the players got into position. Tim watched intently from his crouch as Matt called the play and caught the snap from the centre.
It was a passing play, so Tim jumped up and turned to follow his route and block one of the outside linebackers from sacking Matt. Coach was shouting something, but before Tim could hear what it was, something - or someone - plowed into his right side from out of nowhere, collapsing his balance at his hip and knocking the breath right out of him.
Tim heard rather than felt the stomach-churning snap of something break, and the pain didn’t even register before his head hit the turf and his vision went black.
***
“Julie.”
Julie looked up from her calculus textbook in surprise. Her father was standing right next to her; she hadn’t even heard him come into the library. She pulled her ear buds out and frowned up at him.
“What’s up?” she asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice right now?”
Her dad stood there with his hat crumpled in one hand, looking at her as though he didn’t know how to reply. The look in his eyes gave her pause, and she felt dread creep coldly into her gut.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Tim. There was an accident at practice. Come on with me now and I’ll tell you the rest in the truck.”
Julie was up in an instant, shoving her books into her bag and shrugging her green army jacket on. Eric turned and began walking briskly out of the library, and Julie followed, hurrying along behind him. His Explorer was idling outside the library doors, and as soon as they were in, he peeled out of the parking lot and headed for the freeway, in the direction of Carr County General Hospital.
On the way, he explained what had happened, his tone strained and his words clipped. The team had gotten through drills, and had moved on to running some plays. It was a play like any other, and one that they had run before, only they had the second-string running back, a sophomore named Cudmore, in Smash’s place, getting him ready for next season. Cudmore had gotten confused after the whistle, and went left when he was supposed to go right. Tim was preparing to throw a block in the opposite direction and had his back turned. Cudmore ran into Tim’s side at an odd angle, throwing him right off his feet. He landed hard on his left leg, and the impact with the turf knocked him out cold. Tim hadn’t even seen it coming.
“But - but it’s just a pulled muscle or a strain or something, right?” Julie asked, eyeing her father’s profile as he drove. “I mean, it can’t be that serious. The ambulance was just a precaution, just something you have to do to follow the rules. Right? Dad?”
He didn’t answer immediately. After a moment, he sighed harshly. “He got knocked out cold, honey, and I’m no doctor, but I’d be pretty surprised if that leg of his isn’t broken.”
Julie swallowed, and turned back to look out the windshield.
Please, she thought, remembering every sarcastic comment she had ever made about football players who had suffered too many blows to the head. Please let him be okay.
The rest of their journey was made in silence.
When they arrived at the hospital, Eric parked the truck and they hurried to the emergency entrance. Julie barely registered a word as he spoke to the nurse behind the admissions desk. They were directed down a series of corridors to a small waiting area furnished with ugly art and uncomfortable furniture. A woman and a little girl were sitting in one corner by an under-watered hibiscus plant, the little girl’s head pillowed on the woman’s lap. Eric sighed, and gestured at one of the chairs.
“We’re just gonna have to wait,” he said.
Forty minutes later, little had changed except that, wherever he was, Billy had about two dozen new text messages on his phone, in addition to the two voicemails Julie had left during the drive over.
Julie stared at the beige wall across from her, eyes flicking frequently up to the clock. A nurse came over to speak to the woman and the little girl, and an older couple sat down together at the other end of the waiting area. Julie chewed her thumbnail, trying not to get aggravated at the way her father was restlessly bouncing his knee next to her.
“How much longer do you think it’ll be?” she asked. A pair of nurses passed by in the corridor, speaking in hushed tones. One of them laughed softly.
Her father didn’t look at her, simply kept staring down at the floor. He turned his hat over in his hands, the bright gold embroidered P passing between his fingers.
“I don’t know, honey,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Do you think he’s okay?”
He turned then and looked at her, his eyes soft. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’d take a lot more than that to put Tim Riggins out of commission.”
He lifted his arm and pulled her into a half-hug. She leaned into her father’s side, trying to quell her anxiousness. Just as she closed her eyes, she felt her dad’s cell phone buzz somewhere in his jacket. She sat up. Sighing, he pulled the phone out.
“It’s your mother,” he said, standing up. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Sit tight.”
Eric walked across the waiting area, and disappeared around a corner. Julie gave out a shaky sigh and leaned back, the back of her head hitting the wall behind with a soft thump. She closed her eyes.
“Tim Riggins? Any family here for Tim Riggins?”
Julie shot up. A nurse stood several feet away, looking at her.
“I’m here,” Julie said, walking briskly towards her. “I’m here for Tim Riggins.”
The nurse looked her up and down. “You’re family?”
“Yeah, I’m family,” Julie replied, without hesitation. “Please - how is he?”
“Come with me,” she said. She turned and led Julie back towards an observation area. At the nurse’s station, a young male doctor was leaning against the counter, writing in a chart.
“Dr. Harris?” The nurse came to a stop at the doctor’s side. “She’s here for Tim Riggins.”
The nurse departed, and the doctor looked up at Julie and frowned. “You’re family?”
“My name’s Julie. I’m his... sister.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “Tim Riggins’s sister?” he replied dubiously. “You know, Dillon isn’t that big.”
Julie deflated. “I’m Julie Taylor. I’m his girlfriend. Look, I’ve called Tim’s brother about a billion times, but he must be at work or something, because he’s not picking up. Their parents aren’t around and Tim doesn’t have anyone else. Please.”
“Fine,” the doctor sighed. “I’ll need to see his brother, his actual next-of-kin, at some point.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he possibly can,” Julie said.
“Well, you’ll have to do for now,” Dr. Harris replied. He looked down at the chart and cleared his throat. “Tim suffered a low grade concussion, and his knee was dislocated. We managed to pop it back into place, but x-rays show fractures of the knee cap as well as the tibia. In order to stabilize the injuries to his leg and ensure the fractures heal properly, we have him in a cast. There doesn’t seem to be any significant nerve or circulation damage, as he does have feeling in his foot, but we’ll really have to wait and see how the injury heals.”
Julie swallowed, taking this in. “Okay. Can I see him?”
“Yes,” Dr. Harris replied. “He’s having some short-term memory difficulties due to the concussion, so just take it easy and try not to tire him out. If he gets disoriented or agitated, just try to reassure him as best as you can. It’ll wear off soon.”
Julie nodded worriedly.
“Not too long, now. He needs to rest.”
“Okay,” Julie replied.
“He’s just in there,” Dr. Harris said, pointing with the chart into the observation room across the corridor.
“Thank you,” Julie said. She turned and walked into the observation room. It was lined with two rows of hospital beds, divided by curtains. Julie walked forward, hesitantly trying to find Tim, and was relieved when a passing nurse disturbed a curtain, providing Julie with a glimpse of Tim’s wan face. She pushed the curtain aside and entered.
Tim was stretched out on the bed, his head turned to the side and his eyes closed. His left leg was encased in a plaster cast from his thigh downwards, only the tips of his toes showing. It was supported by a complicated-looking pulley.
Julie edged around the bed and sat down in the chair next to it. Tim’s hand lay limp on the bed next to him, and Julie reached over, threading her fingers with his.
“Hm,” he mumbled, turning his head and blinking blearily at her.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Julie?” he asked, frowning at her. She squeezed his hand gently. Did he even remember her? What if he was one of those cases where months of his life disappeared like an erased tape, and he thought she was just the Coach’s daughter, his teammate’s ex-girlfriend? Was that really a thing, or was it just something that happened on shows like Grey’s Anatomy? She swallowed, trying to prepare herself if that was the case. How much more of a soap opera could her life be?
“Yeah, it’s me,” she said softly. “Do you know where you are?”
His brow furrowed more deeply as he looked around. “Hospital,” he replied. “What happened?”
“You took a bad hit in practice. Your knee’s broken, and you’ve got a concussion, but the doctor says you’re going to be fine once it heals.”
“My knee’s broken?” Tim asked, distressed, sounding strangely young and unlike the tough fullback Julie knew. She squeezed his hand again.
“It’s okay, Tim. They set it and everything already - it just needs to heal.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “You okay?”
Julie exhaled shakily, a weird almost-laugh. “You’re the one in a hospital bed, and you’re asking if I’m okay? I’m fine.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his temple.
They fell silent, and Julie held his hand and watched him frown vaguely up at the ceiling. After a minute or so, his gaze returned to hers.
“Jules?”
“Yeah?”
“Where are we?”
Julie stared at him. “Um, we’re at the hospital. I told you that already, Tim. Don’t you remember?”
“Hospital? What happened?”
“You took a bad hit at practice and got knocked out,” Julie said slowly. “You have a concussion and your knee is broken. You seriously don’t remember me telling you this like two minutes ago?”
“It’s a concussion, honey. He’s probably not gonna remember a whole lot of this.”
Julie turned to see her father standing at the end of Tim’s bed.
“Coach,” Tim said.
“Hey, son. How’re you doing?”
“Not bad, I guess,” Tim replied, giving a little shrug. A moment later, he glanced over at Julie, his eyebrows raised. “Hey, Jules. What’re you doing here?”
Julie looked to her father for help. He smiled tightly.
“Tell you what, Riggins. I just talked to your doctor and he said you need to rest up. Jules and I will be back tomorrow, and I bet you anything we’ll have some of Mrs. Taylor’s chocolate chip cookies for you, those ones you keep eating by the dozen before I can even get my hands on ‘em. Now you get some rest, and don’t give these nurses too much trouble, all right?”
“All right,” Tim agreed, his voice uncertain.
“Come on, Julie,” her father said firmly.
Julie stood and gave Tim’s hand a firm squeeze. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, cupping his jaw. She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes. “I love you,” she said. She watched him for a second. “It’s me, Julie.”
“I know,” Tim replied. He smiled. “I love you, Jules.”
With a sigh, Julie stood up straight and edged her way around the hospital bed.
“Get some rest, son,” Eric repeated.
Julie cast one last look at Tim before following her father out of the rectangle of curtains surrounding Tim’s bed. She felt her father’s hand take hers as they walked back to the nurses’ station.
“Can’t we stay just a couple more minutes?” Julie asked.
“He’s got a concussion, honey. Him forgetting everything you say is just gonna scare and frustrate you both right now. He needs to rest.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Dr. Harris was still standing at the nurses’ station when they arrived, reviewing a pile of charts.
“Thanks, doctor,” Eric said, dropping Julie’s hand to shake the doctor’s. “Tim’s still pretty forgetful, so we’re just gonna let him rest and come back tomorrow.”
“That’s probably a good idea, Coach,” Dr. Harris replied. “We’re going to set up a whiteboard for him at the end of his bed, telling him where he is and what’s happened, so that he doesn’t get agitated.”
“Do you do that for all head injuries, or just the people who are permanently damaged?” Julie asked.
Dr. Harris smiled. “We do that for everyone who sustains a concussion and suffers this kind of short term memory loss. We’ve done a CT scan, and the swelling in his brain is very minimal. It really is just a low grade concussion, and it’ll pass. Really.”
“That sounds good, Dr. Harris,” Eric said. “I’ll be stopping by the house to see if I can track down that brother of his.”
“That would be appreciated.”
They left then, driving back down the freeway and into Dillon mostly in silence. When her father skipped the exit which would have taken them right into Tim’s neighbourhood, Julie frowned.
“Aren’t we going to find Billy?”
“I’m going to find Billy,” Eric replied. “You’re going home to finish up your homework and enjoy the dinner your mother has thoughtfully prepared for you.”
“What? Why? Dad -!”
“Julie, there is nothing you can do for Tim right now, and I’m not real keen on the thought of dragging you to the Landing Strip and every bar in Dillon trying to track down Billy Riggins just so you can be there when he finds out his brother’s in the hospital.”
“Oh my god, Dad, you’re making it sound like Billy’s some kind of violent criminal or something,” Julie replied. “I’ve been alone with Billy tons of times.”
“You’re going home.”
“Ugh,” Julie complained, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window.
“You’re welcome for driving you across town to visit your boyfriend in the hospital, though, honey.”
“Like you weren’t going anyway,” Julie replied, shooting her father a sour look.
They were both silent until Eric turned into their neighbourhood, pulling into the driveway. He shifted the Explorer into park.
“Julie, like I said, there’s nothing you can do for Tim right now. You can see him tomorrow. But right now he needs his brother. He needs his family.”
We’re his family, Julie thought, feeling her chin tremble. “Okay,” she said.
Julie grabbed her bag and hopped out of the truck, dragging her feet up to the house. When she got to the front door, Tami was standing in the doorway, a concerned expression on her face.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said, immediately folding Julie into a hug.
Julie dropped her bag to the ground and let her mom hold her. She sighed, blinking back tears. Maybe her dad was right and there was nothing she could do to help Tim right now. But it wasn’t as though she was going to be able to do anything except worry about him, anyway.
***
Tim opened his eyes, squinting as harsh fluorescent light pierced his pounding head. He groaned and blinked, trying to clear his vision. Something large and white stood a few feet away from him, and he struggled to focus on it. It was a dry erase board with words written on it in blue marker:
Tim -
You are in the hospital.
No shit, Tim thought, frowning. He continued reading:
You are being treated for a broken knee and a concussion.
Your brother is on his way.
Tim stared for a moment, and then his gaze drifted down to his left leg. It was encased in plaster and held up by some kind of weird pulley. He looked down at his toes, poking out from the cast. He wiggled them, and breathed a sigh of relief when they moved ever so slightly.
‘Not paralysed’ was good enough for right now.
The sounds of the observation ward began to clarify - the sound of nurses’ sneakers squeaking against the linoleum, the beeping of machines, the low hum of nearby voices, the periodic crackle of the PA system.
Tim shifted, groaning as his body protested. He felt like one giant bruise.
A pair of voices in conversation down the corridor grew louder as their owners came closer to Tim’s bed. He stared at the curtain, trying to see who was there.
“- but it’s not permanent, right doc?” It was Billy.
“There’s no reason to think that the damage will be permanent,” the doctor replied. “It’s not a major concussion, relatively speaking. He’ll need to take it easy for a few weeks, and he’ll need to come back in for a follow up before he drives or does anything strenuous. Football is certainly out of the question for the time being. Anyway, the time it’s going to take his leg to heal will give his head plenty of time.”
“Okay,” Billy said, sounding worried. “Can I see him?”
The curtain shifted aside to reveal Billy’s anxious face. He stepped inside, followed by the doctor, and stood by Tim’s feet.
“Hey, little brother,” he said. “You all right?”
Tim nodded. “I’m all right,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
The doctor came around the side of the bed and leaned over, quickly flashing a penlight in Tim’s eyes. “Tim, I’m Dr. Harris. We met earlier, but you may not remember that.”
Tim shook his head.
Dr. Harris nodded as though he had not expected anything else, and went on to explain that he’d had an accident at football practice, and had been brought to the hospital in an ambulance. His knee was broken and he had a concussion.
“Do you remember the accident?”
“I remember going to practice, but after that, nothing.”
“My understanding is that you were blindsided by your new running back when he went the wrong way,” Dr. Harris said, wincing. “At least that’s what your coach told me.”
Tim frowned. He’d think twice before throwing a block for Cudmore again.
“Coach was here?” Tim asked.
“Yeah, he came to check on you when we couldn’t get in touch with your brother, here.”
A hazy memory of Julie’s worried face and her small hand in his floated up out of his memory, and then faded.
“Was Julie here?”
“Your girlfriend? Yes, she was. You remember that?”
“A little, I think,” Tim replied.
“Good. That’s a good sign,” Dr. Harris said. “You may find that you have some short term memory problems and some headaches for a bit, but that should go away after a few days of rest. You’ll need to follow up with your family doctor in a couple of weeks.”
Tim glanced at Billy, who looked away. They hadn’t had a “family doctor” since Tim was in preschool.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on one of my other patients,” Dr. Harris said. He turned and disappeared through the gap in the curtains.
“You really all right?” Billy asked warily.
“Yeah,” Tim replied. “Sore as hell, but I’ve had worse.”
“Good,” Billy nodded, looking relieved. He glanced over his shoulder at the gap in the curtains, then back at Tim, his eyebrows raised. “Okay buddy, up and at ‘em, we gotta go.”
“What?” Tim replied, bewildered.
“I said we gotta go,” Billy repeated, bending to rummage around under the bed for a moment before resurfacing with a plastic bag filled with what Tim guessed were his clothes in one hand, and his boots in the other.
“Billy, I don’t think we’re supposed -”
“Tim,” Billy whispered urgently, leaning in after casting a wary look at the closed curtains. “We can’t afford any of this. We gotta go.”
“What’s your plan, Billy? Dine and dash? They already know who I am. We can’t just take off.”
“Damn it,” Billy hissed, his expression somewhere between crestfallen and annoyed. “You’re right. What are we gonna do, man?”
“I don’t know, Billy. Get the bill and figure it out, I guess,” Tim replied, wincing as a sharp pain stabbed through his head.
“Okay, yeah,” Billy said, crossing his arms and frowning. Tim could see the wheels turning in Billy’s head; he was obviously trying to come up with a plan. Something stupid, Tim had no doubt, but he wasn’t in any condition to get into an argument with his brother about it right now.
Billy tossed him the plastic bag. “I’ll get a nurse to help you out of this thing. Then I’m gonna go sign you out or whatever. Get dressed, all right?” He turned then and disappeared back through the curtain, leaving Tim alone.
Tim held the plastic bag to his chest and wondered exactly how many mortgage payments an x-ray was worth, anyway.
***
Tim was dozing in bed the following afternoon when he heard Billy return home from work. Dr. Harris had given Tim the rest of the week off school to recover, and Tim was making the most of it. At the sound of the door, Gridiron, himself dozing at the end of the bed, lifted his head and give a warning woof.
“Billy,” Tim called hoarsely, “you get those pizza rolls?”
His bedroom door opened, and Billy’s head appeared. “Nah, brought you something better,” he said. He pulled back and the door opened the rest of the way to reveal Julie standing there in her jacket, a plastic bag dangling from one hand.
“Hey,” Tim greeted her with a slow grin, awkwardly pulling himself into a sitting position. Julie came forward and put the bag on his nightstand before leaning over to fix the pillows behind him so he could sit up.
“Thanks, Nurse Taylor,” he said as she sat down on the edge of his bed, shrugging off her jacket and throwing it aside. Gridiron stood on the end of the bed, wagging his tail vigorously and pushing his face insistently in Julie’s face, trying to lick her.
“How are you?” Julie asked softly, giving Gridiron a gentle push. The dog huffed a sigh and turned around three times before lying down.
“I’m all right,” Tim replied, shrugging. “Pretty sore and still kinda out of it, but it’s not bad. Why, were you worried about me?” Julie didn’t reply. She just looked at him, her eyes round and dark in the dim light of his room. Tim frowned. “Come here,” he said, shifting over to make room for her.
Julie came to him, kicking off her shoes and settling herself against his side before pressing a kiss to his cheek. Tim rested his chin on the top of her head.
“My mom made you cookies,” Julie said, gesturing with her thumb at the plastic bag. “And I picked you up some stuff from the drug store. Magazines and junk like that. I wasn’t sure what you might want.”
“Thanks,” Tim replied, smiling. “There any porn in there?”
Julie made a soft “ugh” sound and dug an elbow into his side. “No. I just bought anything that had a truck or an engine or a deer or a guy in hunting camo on the front,” she said, clearly dubious about his taste in hobby magazines.
“Thanks,” Tim said, hugging her closer. “Think I won the girlfriend lottery.”
Tim felt Julie smile against his chest as she laid her head on his shoulder. They didn’t speak for a few minutes, and Tim was hoping things might progress directly into another nap when Julie spoke.
“What’s this?” she asked, her fingers gently stroking his bare leg. Tim craned to see what she was referring to, and saw she was examining the top of his right knee, exposed as the hem of his shorts rode up.
“Oh,” he grunted, uncomfortable. Julie had spotted the scar there. He could lie, he knew. He could say it was from football or horsing around with Billy or Jay, or any number of things, and she would believe him and file it away with the other things she knew about him. If anyone else had asked, he would have told them something like that. But this was Julie. If he couldn’t tell her, he couldn’t tell anyone. Before he could rethink it, the words were coming out of his mouth. “Got that when I was 9. I was messing around in the garage, and I got rubber cement on the floor and didn’t clean it up. My dad... He fell off the wagon by then, I guess, and he got real mad and whacked me with a screwdriver.”
Julie sat up and looked at him, her expression troubled. The look in her eyes wasn’t pity; it was a strange kind of alarmed sadness, and he hated to see it. Leaning in, she kissed him before settling back into his side and laying her head on his shoulder. Idly, she ran her fingers down his arm and back up again to rest on his shoulder.
“When we were driving to the hospital, all I could think about was that something horrible had happened to you, something they couldn’t fix,” she whispered. She fell silent for a moment, and then inhaled a shaky breath and continued. “When they said you had a concussion, I was afraid you were really hurt, badly hurt, that maybe your memory was gone and you’d forgotten about us.”
“I wouldn’t forget about you,” Tim said, tightening his arm around her back.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. I’ll have to limp around for a while, but I’m fine, Jules. Don’t worry.”
Julie nodded and leaned forward to kiss him. Tim cupped her face in his hands. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too,” Julie smiled, kissing him again. “Try not to scare me like that again, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Tim replied. He frowned. “Won’t be playing any football for a while, so I’ll be taking it easy whether I want to or not, I guess.”
“You’ll be back in practice before you know it,” Julie said confidently, “doing your drills and plays or whatever, listening to my dad scream at you, probably causing bodily harm to that Cudmore guy.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tim said.
“I do have some bad news, though,” Julie said, wincing. Tim looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and she continued. “My mom made me bring all your homework over. She said the cookies were for when you’re working on your history paper.”
Tim could only groan in reply, letting his head fall back onto the pillow behind him.