"This stops, Johnny!" Gibsie hissed in my ear as he helped me out of the shower and onto the fold-up bed I'd spent the previous hour being poked, prodded, and stitched up on by the emergency doctor on the scene. "Can you keep your goddamn voice down?" I hissed, glancing at the door that separated us from the rest of the team. "I don’t want anyone knowing." "Too fucking late for that," Gibsie snapped. "You left a trail of blood from the clubhouse to the pitch." "Jesus," I strangled out, shaking.
