Chapter 29: Callaghan
If the team physiciansays you’re out, you’re out. I can’t override him.” Johnson crosses his arms over his chest. “You know better than to try and train anyway.”
This is what I get for going to the athletic trainer about my shoulder. He and the PT promptly called in the team doctor, and now I’m benched. As if the past two weeks could get any worse.
They’ve got me out for six to eight weeks, depending on how I progress through physical therapy.
“Go home, Entay. Don’t make me get Janssen involved,” Kenley says as he walks into the training room. “You’re working with PT and following their program. Until you’re cleared, no working out here.”
“It’s been two weeks,” I mutter as if the ligaments will magically knit themselves back together in record time simply because I want them to.
Kenley looks at his iPad. “And the notes say you’re out for at least four more for rehab. Are you doing your program?”
“Of course I am. Don’t be ridiculous.” Like I wouldn’t follow every instruction in order to get me back into training as fast as possible. That is, except for the instruction not to train.
They won’t even let me run. You know, because the arms swinging back and forth and all. Who knew the shoulder joint did so much? All I’m cleared to do right now is lower extremity flexibility and leg workouts, as long as I wear a sling to protect my right arm. And they’re all watching me like hawks.
Maybe because they know that, given the opportunity, I’d do something stupid like try to start working out. Which is exactly what I did when I left Hannah’s apartment two weeks ago and ended up messing up my shoulder even more.
I sit down on the bench and stew. It’s so freaking hard to watch everyone else training while I can’t do anything. I take the sling off and throw it on the ground.
Xavier Henry walks by. “Bummer about the shoulder, mate. How’s it feeling?”
I shrug. “Doing a little better. Thanks for asking. How’s it going with you?”
He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before taking a long drink. I’m jealous of his perspiration. “Doin’ alright. We’ve got the wedding next week, so Ophelia’s running around like a fart in a mitten for that. You’re coming, right?”
I nod, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Turns outThe Looking Glassstory that talked about our wedding wasn’t a leak. Not really. Ophelia’s friend Hannah was on assignment from them. We’d told her she could use the story for her channel. We didn’t realize she worked for that rag. If I’d known, I prolly wouldn’t have given her the green light.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, otherwise, a feather would have been able to knock me off my feet.
Hannah was working forThe Looking Glass.Thatwas her opportunity? It all hits me like a Mack truck. She wasn’t just going to publish that video to her ClikClak. She was going to tell it to the world.
It’s a good thing my right arm isn’t working, otherwise, I’d be punching something right now.
As if alerted to my rising blood pressure and rage, Coach Janssen walks in and jerks his head in the direction of his office, indicating I should join him. I shove my hands into my pockets and drop my head as I follow like a petulant child.
This isn’t going to be good.
I don’t fucking care.
I can’t believe Hannah.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Coach doesn’t waste time or mince words as he sits down behind his desk.
“I ...” I can’t even come up with an excuse for what I’m doing here, other than if I don’t burn off some energy some way, I’m going to explode. I’m practically seeing red.
“It’s time you go talk to Watson Ross.” He’s the sports psychologist who works with most of the pro teams in the Boston area. Coach takes out a business card, holding it out to me. “You have an appointment in an hour.”
I stare at it without making a move to take it. “I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You’re not fine, and we can all see it. You’re about to implode on yourself. You’re wound so tight it wouldn’t surprise any of us if you gave yourself a heart attack or stroke.” He’s still holding out the card.
“It’s just the shoulder. It came at a bad time.” I can’t meet his gaze.
“Talk to Watson. Trust me, you’ll feel better. It’s not an option. It’s a requirement to return to play.”
