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“We’ve got him,”OldCaleb says, wrapping his arm around my son. “He’s safe with us.”
“Please keep us updated,” Brynna requests, and I nod as I follow the nurse back to where the rooms are. It feels like we’ve walked a half mile when we reach a room with a curtain pulled, and I walk in, expecting the worst.
But Drew smiles at me from the bed. He has a bandage above his left eye, and his arm is in a sling, but he’s sitting up and is fully alert.
“Well, hi there, beautiful.”
“Oh, my God.” I hurry over to him and kiss his cheek, then his lips and hold his face in my hands. “You scared thefuckout of me, Drew Montgomery.”
“Yeah, me, too. Is Caleb okay?”
“He’s with your parents in the waiting room. They said he didn’t have a scratch on him. He’s scared and worried about you.” I look up as a doctor walks in. “How bad is it?”
“You’re a lucky man,” the doctor says to Drew with a smile.
“And I know it.”
“Mr. Montgomery has a dislocated shoulder and a laceration above his left eye.”
“What about the concussion?” I ask.
“What concussion?” the two of them ask in unison.
“He doesn’t have a concussion?”
“No,” the doctor says. “And I know his medical history. He doesn’t show any signs of a concussion at all, and we’ve been keeping a close eye on that. His shoulder will take some time to heal, but all in all, he’s doing well.”
“Does that mean I can go home?” Drew asks hopefully.
“Yes. You’re on some good medication, so no driving for the rest of the day. You’ll need to follow up with a doctor for that shoulder, and you’ll likely need physical therapy.”
“We have that covered,” I reply, thinking of our extensive facilities at the training center. “What about medication?”
“Ibuprofen,” the doctor replies. “You’re going to be sore; there’s no getting around that. Ice it, take the ibuprofen, and alternate with acetaminophen. It’ll help.”
“Thanks, doc,” Drew says. “Come on, beautiful. I want to go home.”
“Take it easy out there,” the doctor says. “It’s treacherous, as you know. We have too many people in tonight because of it.”
“We’ll be careful,” I promise him and help Drew to his feet. “Your mom was beside herself.”
“But you weren’t?”
“Oh, I’m still a mess. I had to park my car halfway here, and your dad picked me up.”
“Good. I don’t want you driving in this.”
With his hand gripped firmly in mine, I walk beside him as he’s wheeled in a wheelchair to the lobby, and when Drew’s parents and Caleb see us, their faces light up.
“Thank God,” Brynna says on a choked sob and pulls her son in for a gentle hug when he stands. “Scared me.”
“Same,” Drew says with a smile. “Come on, guys. Let’s go home.”
“You know what sucks?” my kiddo asks as he takes Drew’s free hand. “We still don’t have any pizza.”
He’s been sleepingfor about twenty-four hours straight.
Caleb keeps wanting to check in on him, and keeping that kid out of my bedroom so Drew can rest is like keeping him out of the cookie jar.
