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“And the bad news?” Oliver asked.
“Because this is your third major head injury—”
“Third!” Clare cried.
“—and since you were unconscious for such a length of time because of the hematoma, we are more concerned than if you had just been out for just a moment. We can reevaluate you in six months, Oliver. But I believe it would be dangerous for you to play again. We recommend that athletes with similar injuries never return to play.”
Lying back against the pillow, Oliver had known it was a possibility. He’d read about head injuries, and they’d talked about it ad nauseum in their training seminars. But it was one of those things that would never happen to him.
“The nurse will be in to remove your IV. I’ll go write up your discharge papers,” the doctor said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m sorry, we have to give our report to the team physician.”
Nodding, Oliver just wanted to get out of the hospital bed and go back to his apartment, alone.
“I’m relieved,” Joanne said, breaking the silence after the doctor left. “I’ve been worried about something like this happening since you left San Diego.”
“You don’t need to sound so triumphant,” Clare said, appalled.
“I can’t help it! We were all excited! Oliver Saint was going to play professional football. Which one of us didn’t gloat about it? We made his success our reason to be proud. Now this! He could have died.”
“But I didn’t,” Oliver said.
Tired of her negativity, his parents left to huddle out in the hall with the doctor, leaving him alone and vulnerable with Joanne.
Then he found his voice. “So do you need to get back?”
“Not right away. I thought I’d stay at your place for a few days.”
He could see she was itching to confront him about Wendy. Bright-eyed and a tic in her jaw, she was ready to pounce.
“Get it off your chest so we aren’t fighting. I’m not up to it.”
She looked at him, expectant, recharged. “Who’s the blonde?”
“Wendy is the trauma nurse. That’s all. And we accidentally adopted her dog.”
“I don’t even want to know how that came about. So am I welcome?”
“You’re welcome,” he said, boxed into a corner.
His parents came back into the room when the doctor finally left.
“Daddy has to get back, but I can stay if you need me,” Clare said, watching for Joanne’s reaction.
“I can change my flight if you want me to stay,” Charlie replied. “Work can wait.”
“Pop, you can go back. The dogs must be lonely.”
“Ha! The dogs are fine,” he replied. “I have to make a call. Be right back.”
Hearing she’d be competing with his mother for his attention, Joanne was ready to answer Clare for Oliver, but he was faster. “Ma, I want meatloaf and mashed potatoes and Shake ’n Bake chicken.”
Clare burst out laughing. “You’ve got it, buddy.”
“Are you sure Harry won’t mind?”
Harry Steinberg was Clare’s significant other since she and Charlie had separated. She had waited for Oliver to finish college to do the deed.
“Harry’s flying in tonight. Daddy knows, and he’s okay with it. Harry saw the play on TV and was so upset. We couldn’t really see what was going on from the stands until they kept replaying it on the monitor. But he saw it happen as it happened.”
