Hoodies & Headlines
8:12 on the clock {part II.}
Authors note: Lights too bright, heads too heavy. Hands clutch, breaths steady, hearts racing.
Concussion fog, quiet promises, and the slow pull of love — this is raw, tender, and completely unrelenting.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Divider credits: @enchanthings and @saradika-graphics
Warning: injury, concussion , medical talk, inaccurate descriptions (I’m not a health professional),fear, complete fiction
Part I. | H&H Masterlist
The emergency entrance doors slide open before the truck even fully stops.
They’re waiting.
Two nurses, a doctor in dark blue scrubs, and another medic with a wheelchair already positioned just outside the doors. Someone from the hospital clearly got the call the second they left the stadium.
Andrew kills the engine and jumps out first.
Cold air rushes in when the back door opens.
“Hey, Josh,” Jade says gently, leaning in. “Hospital time.”
Josh lifts his head slowly from where it had been resting against Jade’s shoulder. His eyes squint against the bright white lights spilling out of the entrance.
“…Bright,” he mutters. “…Don’t wanna go.”
“I know, baby” Jade whispers, brushing her hand through the back of his hair. “We’re here. Almost inside.”
The nurse step closer with the wheelchair.
“Mr. Allen?” the doctor asks calmly.
Josh frowns slightly at the sound of his name like it takes an extra second to register. Andrew already has the medical folder in his hand.
“Grade three concussion,” Andrew says quickly, slipping into professional mode. “Loss of consciousness approximately two minutes in the medical tent. Amnesia for portions of the third quarter. Severe headache, eight out of ten. Repeated vomiting during transport.”
The doctor nods once, already opening the file as Andrew hands it over.
“Alright. Let’s get him inside.”
The wheelchair is rolled right up to the truck door.
Josh stares at it.
“…I can walk.”
Jade squeezes his hand gently. “Boo. Just don’t. Please.”
He sighs like he knows he lost that argument before it started.
Andrew helps him shift forward. The moment his feet hit the ground his balance wobbles just slightly, and that’s enough for everyone around them to move faster.
“Easy fella.” Andrew murmurs.
Josh lowers into the wheelchair with a quiet grunt, clearly annoyed with the entire situation. His hand finds Jade.
The automatic hospital doors open with a soft mechanical whoosh.
The hospital is blindingly clean, fluorescent lights bounce off pale floors and white walls. The antiseptic sting hits Josh, and he squints.
“God,” he mutters. “Why’s everything so loud.”
Jade walks beside him, her fingers laced with his like it’s the only thing grounding him, Andrew walks on the other side while the doctor flips through the file.
They move quickly through a side hallway — clearly a private entrance. No waiting room chaos. No crowds. Just staff who already know exactly why they’re here.
A nurse pushes the wheelchair through another set of doors.
“Alright, Josh,” the doctor says calmly. “We’re going to take you for imaging first.”
Josh nods slowly. “…’Kay..”
But his grip on Jade’s hand tightens.
They stop outside another set of double doors.
Radiology.
The doctor glances between them.
“Miss, you’ll have to wait out here while we run the scan.”
Josh’s head lifts immediately. “No.” The word comes out sharper than anything he’s said since the stadium.
The nurse pauses.
“It won’t take long, Mr. Allen,” she explains gently.
Josh shakes his head once — and immediately winces at the motion.
“No,” he repeats, voice rougher this time. “She’s coming. Or I’m not going.”
Jade squeezes his hand again.
“Boo—”
The doctor steps forward. “Hospital protocol. Family waits outside. You’ll see her after.”
Josh’s jaw tightens. And suddenly the irritation that’s been simmering under the concussion fog starts showing.
“No,” he says again, louder now. “She’s staying.” He is getting angry.
The nurse tries again, patient.
“Just fifteen minutes.”
Josh turns toward Jade slightly, his hand still gripping hers like a lifeline.
“I don’t want you out here.” His voice is quieter now. But stubborn. “I want you with me.” And scared in a way he clearly doesn’t like admitting.
The doctor glances at Andrew briefly. They’ve seen this before — concussed athletes clinging to the one thing that feels stable.
Still, the rules are the rules.
“Josh,” the doctor says calmly. “We need to get the scan done. You will be okay.”
Josh breathes out sharply through his nose.
“No.”
The wheelchair shifts slightly as he leans forward like he’s preparing to stand up again. Instantly two nurses step closer.
“Easy.”
“I said no,” Josh snaps, irritation flashing across his face now. “I’m going home.”
Jade’s chest tightens. She clamps her hand over his, feels his fingers twitch, his forehead crease.
He’s not himself.
The headache. The confusion. The fear.
It’s all bleeding into that stubborn competitive streak.
“Joshua,” she says softly. “Stop it.”
He turns toward her immediately. Clearly confused at her tone.
“I’m not leaving you,” he says. The words are slurred slightly with exhaustion.
But the intention behind them is clear. You are not going out of my sight.
Jade kneels down in front of the wheelchair without hesitation.
Right there in the hallway.
Her hands move to his cheeks gently, thumbs brushing just under his eyes. The move she always does to calm him down.
“Hey, look at me” she murmurs. His breathing is uneven. Eyes glassy from the headache.
“They’re just taking pictures of your brain.”
“I know.”
“You gotta go in without me.”
He shakes his head again immediately.
“No.”
Her voice stays soft. Steady.
“I’ll be right here.”
“No,” he insists again, frustration creeping in. “I said not. They can’t just—”
“Josh.”
“I’m going home.”
“Joshua Patrick Allen, stop.”
That stops him.
Not because she raised her voice.
The full government name. She doesn’t do it unless she’s done with him.
And also the tone. The one she uses when she needs him to actually listen.
His eyes flicker up to hers again.
“You need to go now, alone. Do you understand?” she says quietly. “They need to check your brain. And I will be right here when you come back.”
He stares at her.
Still holding her hand.
Still clearly not happy about any of this.
“…You promise?”
Her thumb brushes across his knuckles.
“I promise. With my whole heart boo.”
He exhales slowly.
Still reluctant.
Still clearly wanting to argue.
His hand finds hers, gripping like a lifeline. Slowly, he relaxes… but doesn’t let go.
“…Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“On my name.”
He studies her face one more time like he’s committing it to memory.
And then the nurse gently starts to guide the wheelchair toward the radiology doors.
His fingers finally slip from hers—
—but right before the doors close, his hand lifts slightly like he’s reaching for her again.
Then the radiology doors swing closed with a soft, final click.
And just like that— Josh is gone.
The hallway feels ten times quieter without him in it. The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead, too bright, too sterile.
Jade stays kneeling for a moment longer, staring at the door like it might open again if she just waits. Her hands are still in the same position where his had been.
Empty now.
Slowly, she stands. Her legs feel shaky, like her body only now realizes the adrenaline is draining out of it. Andrew touches her elbow gently.
“Come sit,” he says softly. “You should sit down, Jade.”
There’s a small row of chairs against the wall near the imaging wing. Jade lets him guide her there, but the second she sits down the tension she’s been holding together since the stadium finally cracks.
Her face folds into her hands. The tears come fast.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just quiet, shaking breaths she can’t quite stop. Andrew sits beside her, pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket and offering it without saying anything.
She takes it, pressing it to her eyes.
For a moment the only sound is the faint hospital noise and Jade trying to breathe.
Then she whispers, voice breaking slightly.
“He lost consciousness…” Andrew nods slowly beside her.
“Yeah,” he says gently.
She lowers the handkerchief, looking at him like she needs confirmation she heard it right earlier. “He… he actually blacked out?”
Andrew’s expression softens.
“He did. But came back.” The words land heavier the second time.
Jade stares down at her hands.
“He… he doesn’t remember that part.”
“No,” Andrew says quietly. “That’s normal with a concussion that severe. I would be worried if he did remember that.”
Her chest tightens.
“But he asked for you.” She looks up.
Andrew continues, voice calm and steady. “Before he went out in the tent… he was asking where you were. When are you coming. Said your name twice.”
The tears come harder now. Jade presses the handkerchief to her mouth as her shoulders shake.
“He wanted you there,” Andrew adds softly. “That’s the last clear thing he said before he lost consciousness. So Ronald sent out for you. ”
That does it.
Jade leans forward, elbows on her knees, crying into the handkerchief now.
Not panicked.
Not hysterical.
Just the kind of crying that comes from the release of pure fear.
The image hits her all at once—
Josh on the ground. The way he couldn’t stand.
The way he looked at her like he couldn’t remember her name.
And now this.
He wanted you.
Andrew lets her cry. Doesn’t interrupt. Just sits beside her quietly like someone who’s seen this moment before.
Minutes stretch.
Ten.
Fifteen.
The radiology doors stay closed.
Jade checks the clock on the wall again.
Seventeen minutes.
Her knee starts bouncing. It’s taking too long.
Andrew notices but doesn’t say anything.
Then—
The doors open. A nurse appears first.
And behind her—
Josh.
Second nurse wheels him out slowly in the same wheelchair. Jade stands immediately.
But something is different.
Josh’s head is tipped slightly back against the chair. His eyes are open, but heavier now. Slower. His movements more sluggish than before. Jade’s heart is breaking.
The nurse gives Jade a small reassuring smile.
“He did great,” she says.
Andrew steps closer. “How’d he do?”
The nurse adjusts the blanket draped loosely over Josh’s lap.
“He got a little anxious during the scan,” she explains gently. “That’s common with head injuries and the bright lights. And also didn’t like we took him from his woman. So the doctor approved a small dose of a sedative and some pain medication.”
Jade nods, eyes immediately going to Josh.
His head turns slowly.
Searching.
“…babes?” His voice is rough. Sleepy. His eyes drift around the hallway again like he’s trying to focus through fog.
“…where is she…”
Jade steps forward instantly. “I’m here. You are okay.”
Josh’s gaze snaps toward her. The moment his eyes find hers, his eyes drops slightly. Like some invisible tension finally lets go.
“Hey, Jadey,” he whispers. His arm lifts slightly from the armrest like he’s reaching. Jade takes his hand before he even finishes the motion.
“I told you I’d be here.” He squeezes her fingers weakly.
“You left,” he mutters.
“I was right outside.”
“You left me.”
“ I was right here, waiting.” She mumbles to his head as she kisses his curls. “I was here, Josh.”
He squints at her face like he’s checking that’s true. “…’kay.”
The nurse begins wheeling him slowly down the hallway again toward another room — a larger emergency room prepared for him.
Josh’s head turns slightly toward Jade as she walks beside the chair.
“Jadey.”
“Yeah, boo?”
“…I feel weird.” Her thumb moves in slow, grounding circles across his knuckles.
“I know.”
“My brain’s… fuzzy. I don’t like it.”
“I know, baby.”
He frowns slightly, like he’s trying to grab a thought that keeps slipping away.
“…did we win?” Jade exhales softly.
“I haven’t checked yet.”
Josh blinks like the concept of checking a score suddenly feels extremely complicated.
“….oh.”
Then pauses and looks at her.
“…okay…”
Then shrugs weakly like that problem is too far away to care about anymore.
The nurse pushes the wheelchair into a private emergency room.
Josh barely notices any of it. He’s still looking at Jade.
“…don’t go again,” he mumbles. “..please”.
Her chest tightens.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.”
That seems to satisfy him. His hand tightens around hers again.
It’s quieter here.
Dimmer lights. A narrow hospital bed against the wall. A rolling stool, a counter with sealed medical supplies, a heart monitor that isn’t even turned on yet.
Temporary.
Waiting.
“Just in here for a few minutes,” the nurse explains gently. “The doctor will come talk to you once he reviews the scan.”
Josh barely seems to register most of it. His eyes are still locked on Jade like she’s the only thing in the room that makes sense.
The nurse helps guide Josh up from the wheelchair. Andrew steadies him from the other side as he shifts carefully onto the edge of the bed. Josh clearly doesn’t want to let Jade out of his sight.
His movements falter. Eyes drift. Blinks come slower. He leans into her hand like it’s an anchor, the sedative creeping in with every second.
He sits on the bed, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes half-lidded but still watching her like he’s making sure she’s real.
The nurse adjusts the thin hospital blanket over his lap.
“Doctor will be right with you,” she says, offering Jade a small reassuring nod before stepping out.
The door closes behind her.
The room goes quiet.
Josh exhales slowly and leans forward a little, elbows resting on his thighs.
“Babes,” he murmurs.
Jade steps closer immediately.
“Yeah?”
His eyes drift up to her again, slower now, hazy. “… my head still hurts.”
“I can see that, boo.”
She brushes her fingers gently through the back of his hair.
He leans into the touch automatically. He’s really touchy.
“…did I scare you?” The question is quiet. Almost childlike.
Jade swallows, her thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “A little.”
Josh frowns slightly like he doesn’t like that answer. “Don’t lie….”
Her thumb brushes across his temple carefully.
“You don’t apologize for getting hurt.”
He blinks slowly, processing that.
Then after a moment—
“…okay.”
His grip on her hand tightens again as if he needs the confirmation. Outside the door, footsteps pass in the hallway.
Josh doesn’t look.
He just keeps watching Jade. She’s so pretty.. How did I got so lucky.
As long as she’s there, everything else can wait.
Footsteps stop outside the room a few minutes later.
The handle turns.
A middle-aged doctor in navy scrubs steps inside, a tablet in one hand and a thin paper file in the other. He looks tired in the way doctors do late at night, but his expression is calm.
“Alright,” he says, glancing between them. “Joshua Allen.”
Josh lifts his head a little from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.
“…yeah. That’s me.”
The doctor gives a small smile.
“Good news first.” Jade’s shoulders tense anyway.
“There’s no bleeding in the brain,” the doctor says clearly. “No swelling, no structural damage on the scan.” The breath Jade lets out is shaky.
Josh just blinks slowly, processing.
“So… that’s good,” the doctor continues. “What you have is a significant concussion. You took a pretty hard hit tonight.”
Josh gives a small huff. “…felt like it.”
Andrew crosses his arms quietly, listening. Thank god.
“You lost consciousness,” the doctor explains. “You were disoriented, vomiting, and had memory loss. That all, puts you firmly in the higher concussion protocol category.”
Josh’s head tilts slightly.
“…am I dying?” Jade shoots him a seriously? look.
The doctor chuckles softly.
“No. You’re not dying.”
Josh nods once, satisfied with that. “Cool.”
“Right now you’re what we call post-concussive,” the doctor continues. “Meaning your brain needs time to calm down and recover.”
He taps the tablet lightly.
“That means strict rest.”
Josh frowns immediately.
“…how strict are we talking.”
The doctor looks directly at him.
“No football activities.”
Josh sighs.
“No workouts.”
Another sigh.
“No screens.”
Josh’s eyebrows knit together.
“…no screens?”
The doctor nods.
“No phone scrolling, no TV, no tablets, no playbooks, no video review.”
Josh looks genuinely offended now.
“…seriously?”
“For at least a week,” the doctor says calmly. “Possibly longer depending on how symptoms improve. We will see later when you come in for check in.”
Jade can practically see the gears in Josh’s head short-circuiting. He doesn’t like it.
The doctor keeps going.
“Minimal light stimulation. No loud environments. No alcohol. No strenuous activity. That also means no sexual activity for now.”
Josh exhales dramatically.
“…so I just sit there.”
Andrew smirks. “Tragic.”
Josh glares at him. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Exactly.”
“Can I even touch her?” Jade blushes at that.
“Touch is not prohibited. But as I said no strenuous activities.”
“Wonderful.” Josh lets out. Andrew smirks slightly.
“Doctor’s orders.” The doctor turns toward Jade then.
“And he shouldn’t be alone for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
Jade nods immediately.
“I’ll stay with him.” Josh glances at her.
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice is calm but firm.
“You have training..” Jade absolutely ignores him.
“Well I’m off season,” she adds to the doctor. “And he’s my man. I’ll be there.”
The doctor gives an approving nod.
“Perfect.”
He shifts the tablet and explains a little more seriously now.
“You’ll want to monitor him tonight and tomorrow. If you notice worsening headache, repeated vomiting, confusion getting worse, trouble waking him, slurred speech, weakness in his limbs, or seizures—”
Jade’s stomach drops. Seizures..
“—you come back immediately,” he finishes.
She nods again, absorbing every word.
“We will. I will watch him like a hawk.”
The doctor pulls a small paper prescription from the file and hands it to her.
“Pain medication. Only if the headache gets severe.” Jade takes it carefully.
“Thank you, doctor.”
Doctor then hands the thicker medical folder to Andrew.
“Scan results, discharge papers, and concussion protocol documentation I added it in.”
Andrew flips it open briefly, already skimming.
“Got it. Thank you, doctor.”
The doctor looks back at Josh again.
“How’s the headache now?”
Josh shrugs slightly. “…still there.”
“That’s expected,” the doctor says. “You also received a mild sedative earlier when you got anxious during the scan, so you’ll probably feel sleepy.”
Josh nods slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
The doctor steps back toward the door.
“You’re cleared to go home tonight. Just rest. No heroics.”
Josh lets out a tired breath.
“…wasn’t planning on heroics.”
The doctor pauses before leaving, giving him a small grin.
“For what it’s worth,” he adds, “hell of a game tonight.”
Josh’s mouth twitches faintly.
“Thanks.”
“Now go home and let your brain recover.”
He nods once to Andrew and Jade.
“Take care of him.”
Jade gives a small smile.
“I will.”
And with that, the doctor steps out of the room, leaving the three of them alone again—Josh still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a little dazed, a little exhausted…
…and still holding Jade’s hand like it’s the most important thing in the world.
By the time they pull into the driveway of their shared home, the adrenaline has finally burned out of Josh’s system. What’s left on him is the heavy, slow fog of medication and the dull throb behind his eyes.
The porch light is already on.
Jade barely registers what’s happening before the back door opens.
Katie.
Of course.
Her assistant steps out onto the porch like she’s been waiting for them the whole time, already moving down the steps. Calm. Efficient. Completely unbothered by the fact that Buffalo’s quarterback and her boss just came home from the ER.
“Hey,” Katie says softly.
Andrew pops the trunk and hands her Josh’s duffle without even asking. She takes it immediately.
“Bedroom’s ready. Lights are dimmed.”
Jade exhales in quiet relief.
God, Jade really loves this woman.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
Katie just nods, already stepping back to give them space.
Jade turns to Josh.
“C’mon, baby. We going to bed.”
Josh looks at her sleepy, just nods. Katie just looks at Josh and says “Hey Josh.. You look like hell..” He just kinda forces smile out.
But the second Jade reaches for him, he finds hers automatically.
Like muscle memory.
“Home?” he mumbles.
“We’re home.”
“Okay.” That seems to settle something in him.
She guides him up the steps carefully, one hand on his arm even though he doesn’t actually need the help. The house is quiet, soft lamplight glowing instead of the bright overheads.
Katie thought of everything. She trails behind them.
Josh notices it too. He pauses in the doorway, looking around the dim hallway like he’s making sure the house is real.
“…dark,” he murmurs.
“Doctor’s orders,” Jade says gently.
No bright lights. No screens. No stimulation.
Just rest.
They move slowly through the house, Josh staying close enough that their shoulders brush every few steps.
Halfway down the hallway, his fingers tighten around hers again.
“Babes.”
“Yeah?”
“…don’t leave.”
Her heart squeezes.
“I’m not leaving, Josh.”
“You did leave.”
“I’m not leaving again okay?” His eyes scan her face like he’s checking she’s really there.
Then nods once, satisfied.
The bedroom door is already open. The room is dim, curtains drawn, only the small lamp on Jade’s nightstand casting warm light across the bed. Katie must’ve prepared everything. It’s cozy here.
Jade helps Josh sit first.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “Shoes off.”
He obediently lifts one foot a little, watching her like she’s the only thing in the room as she pulls off his sneakers and tugs off his socks.
“You’re bossy,” he mutters faintly.
She huffs a quiet laugh. “You got a concussion.”
“Still, you are bossy.” But he lets her guide him back onto the pillows anyway.
The second his head hits the mattress, his eyes flutter a little.
The exhaustion hits fast.
Jade pulls the blanket up over him, smoothing it over his chest.
Josh catches her wrist before she can pull away.
“Stay.”
“I’m right here.”
“Closer.”
Of course.
She slips onto the bed beside him, careful not to jostle him too much.
That’s all it takes. Josh immediately shifts toward her, one arm sliding around her waist, head into her boob area, like he needs the contact to anchor himself.
“…there,” he murmurs sleepily.
Jade presses a soft kiss into his hair.
“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” she whispers.
He hums, already halfway to sleep.
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
His grip tightens slightly.
“…need you.”
Her throat tightens.
“I know. I’m here boo.” Kisses his head again. “I’m here. Now rest.”
Outside the bedroom door, she hears Katie quietly moving through the house and Andrew’s low voice somewhere near the kitchen.
Handling things.
Giving them space.
Jade exhales slowly, settling deeper into the pillows beside Josh as his breathing finally begins to even out.
For now, he’s home.
Jade doesn’t know how long she’s been asleep.
Maybe an hour.
Maybe two.
The house is silent, the kind of deep quiet that only happens late at night. Buffalo winter pressing cold against the windows.
Josh shifts beside her.
At first it’s small.
Just a restless movement.
Then his hand tightens suddenly around the fabric of her hoodie.
“…Jadey?”
His voice is rough. Confused.
Jade’s eyes open immediately.
“Hey, hey,” she murmurs softly, already turning toward him. “I’m right here.”
Josh’s breathing is uneven.
He looks disoriented, eyes half-open in the dim light, brow pulled tight like he’s trying to piece something together and can’t quite get there.
“…where are we?”
Her heart squeezes.
“We’re home, baby. Our house.”
He blinks slowly.
The room is dark except for the lamp on her nightstand, casting soft gold across the bed. It takes him a second to process it.
“…bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
His hand moves from her hoodie to her arm, fingers curling there like he needs something solid to hold onto.
“Head hurts,” he mutters.
“I know.”
“I want it gone.”
She shifts up a little on the pillows, brushing her fingers gently through his messy hair.
“Doctor said it would.”
Josh closes his eyes for a second, face tightening.
“…feels weird.”
“That’s the concussion.”
Another slow blink.
He studies her face like he’s grounding himself with it.
“…you stayed.”
The words are quiet. Almost surprised.
Jade leans down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Of course I stayed.”
Josh exhales shakily.
Then he moves closer.
Not subtle about it either.
He practically buries himself against her side, arm wrapping around her waist like he’s claiming territory.
“…don’t go,” he murmurs again.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
His fingers clutch the back of her hoodie.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
For a moment he just breathes there, forehead pressed against her collarbone.
Then—
“…I got hit.”
It’s not really a question.
“Yeah,” she says gently.
Josh grimaces slightly.
“…did we win?”
Jade huffs a quiet laugh despite everything.
“Yes, quarterback. You won.”
That seems to make him relax a little.
“…good.”
Another quiet moment passes.
Then his grip tightens again.
“…it scared me.”
The words are so quiet she almost misses them. His fingers tighten in her hoodie like he’s afraid she might disappear if he lets go.
Jade’s chest aches.
Josh Allen — fearless on the field, running through linebackers like nothing can stop him — sounding small in the middle of the night because his brain won’t cooperate.
She wraps an arm around him carefully, pulling him a little closer.
“I know,” she whispers.
He presses his face into her shoulder.
“It was bad..It…hurt.”
“Yea, boo. I saw it.”
Her fingers move slowly through his hair again, the same steady motion over and over.
Comfort. Anchor.
Josh breathes out slowly.
“…don’t like it.”
“No one likes concussions.”
He makes a faint annoyed sound at that.
“…you’re funny.”
“Thank you.”
His grip loosens just slightly as the medication and exhaustion start pulling him back under.
But right before his eyes close again—
“…Jade?”
“Yeah?”
“…love you.”
Her heart flutters instantly.
“I love you too. You have no idea, Josh.”
He hums softly, finally relaxing fully against her.
Within minutes his breathing evens out again, deep and steady this time.
Jade stays awake a little longer, watching him in the dim light.
Listening.
Just to make sure.
Her fingers never leave his hair.
Not even for a second.