Whatever. I’ve already fought a frat guy. I have nothing left to lose. The ref can show me a red, for all I care.

Before Coach can hold me back again, I bolt onto the field, sneakers crunching in the grass, my breathing ragged as I weave through the crowd of players, into the inner circle of three medics. The pounding of my heart slows when I notice that May’s eyelids are fluttering, lips forming words. Thank God.

‘What’s goin’ on, man?’ I crouch down next to her and look to the lead medic for some sort of declaration.

‘She’s gonna be groggy for a minute,’ he tells me. ‘We’ll definitely need to get her checked out further in the tent to rule out a brain bleed or anything severe, but I’m pretty confident it’s just a concussion.’

I groan. It’s never ‘just a concussion’. May’s gonna be devastated. That’s at least two games she’ll have to miss on concussion watch; that six-step protocol they put you on will definitely take her out of play for the Riders’ first away game – her last first away game. Sentimental value is a major factor, of course, but missing games won’t look good to the school either. For her scholarship, her spot on the team, just one concussion could spell trouble.

‘May.’ I try to meet her eyes as if it’ll get them fully open, get them to focus. ‘Hey, May. Hey, hey, hey, look at me.’

She squints, her vision still wavering. ‘Colt?’ Her voice is a whimper, probably the most helpless I’ve ever heard her, and I immediately hate it.

‘I’m here.’

With an unsuccessful heave, May pushes herself just barely off the grass and, as she slumps back against one of the medics, I cradle her head in my arms. ‘Whoa, hang on. You’re concussed. Give yourself a minute.’

Shit. The entire team’s around us, more staff. May’s out of it, and even in this situation, we have face to save. The dumb lie has to live. Dote, damn it, Colt!

Fortunately, even post-concussion, May’s intuition beats mine. She gives my hand a squeeze, as if to nag me, Play the role, dude.

As much as it’s in keeping with the role, it doesn’t feel like one when I reach down and sweep a strand of her hair off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear and into her headband. ‘You’re gonna be just fine,’ I whisper.

‘That was a smart move.’

May holds an ice pack to her head, legs dangling over the side of the PT table as she winces. ‘The run onto the field.’