“Yes. There was only the driver. His airbag deployed, so he just has an abrasion on his face. Otherwise fine, though.” Thank God! “We’re about to load you in the ambulance. You may have some broken ribs, but your lungs sound okay so far, so I don’t think they’re punctured.”

I tried to turn my head to look around, but my neck wouldn’t move. Oh my God, was I paralyzed? I lifted my arm—that was a good sign, right?—and put my hand on my neck. Okay, I had a neck brace on, and I seemed to be on some kind of gurney.

“Thank you, but I need to get to Blaire,” I said, trying not to expel much air as I talked because breathing fucking hurt.

“You’re not going anywhere except for the hospital, sir, but we recovered your cell phone. I can call her for you when we get into the rig.” We were moving then, and I felt a slight bump as the inside of the ambulance came into view above me.

“Number is on a card in my console.”

The paramedic frowned and said, “I’ll see if someone can find it if it’s important.” She probably wondered how crucial it could really be if I didn’t even have her number in my phone.

“Very, very important,” I said, adding the extra “very” for emphasis, even though every extra syllable was like a knife in my side.

“Okay, Mr. Broxton. I’ll see if one of the officers can find it for you. Anyone else I can call for you in the meantime?”

“Brother. Oliver. In my phone. Passcode is 1024.”

The next few hours were filled with scans, x-rays, questions, and poking, and the ER doctor finally came in to give me the results. “Mr. Broxton, first of all, I’m a big fan of yours, and we’re all glad you’re in Fort Worth now.” I gave him a thumbs up because I was honestly tired of talking. I had resorted to hand gestures when possible about three hours ago, though so far, I had refrained from giving anyone the middle finger. “We were concerned because you lost consciousness, but that was apparently from the pain. We’ve found no evidence of a concussion or other head injury.” I nodded my understanding. “You do have two fractured ribs and bruising along the left side of your body. You were T-boned by the other driver when you ran a red light.”

I heard my brother release a grateful breath. “Thank God, Ax. It could have been so much worse.” He grasped my hand, and I squeezed it. No words necessary.

“Can I play Sunday?” I asked the doctor.