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They look from me to Coach and back again.
There’s a knock on the door before they can say anything, and the team owner, Giles Hanover, walks in. “What are we looking at?” he says by way of greeting.
He was obviously called the minute my injury was clear. It’s bad enough I failed myself with this injury, but I’ve failed the men in this room too, as well as the entire team.
Dr. Frampton’s face is tight, and it’s clear to me he knows that no one in this room will like what he has to say. “Lee has a Grade II AC joint injury, probably as a result of when he was tackled. There’s also a very small tear on the rotator cuff. We can treat that with some ice and anti-inflammatories, but it should heal on its own by the time he’s back on the field.”
I swallow hard. “How long am I out?”
Every second that ticks by before I get my answer feels like a goddamn month.
“Hard to say, but likely somewhere between four to five weeks,” Dr. Frampton says.
“Fuck!” Coach tosses the stress ball across the room while Giles stands there with his hands on his hips, frowning.
“I can’t get out there any sooner?” I look between Dr. Frampton and Dr. Carlisle.
“It’s unlikely,” Dr. Carlisle says. “You’ll need to be completely immobilized in a sling for the first week. From there, we’ll do some more imaging and slowly start building back your strength. When we see what you can tolerate, that will give us more information.”
Every word out of his mouth is like a dagger piercing my heart.
Giles looks at Coach. “You think Hayes can hold it down until Lee returns?”
Hayes is the backup quarterback, and not to sound like an asshole, but he’s not me. Sure, he played Division One, drafted high on the order. He wouldn’t be signed to the team if he weren’t, but I’m the guy who’s supposed to lead the team to the Bowl this year.
Dr. Frampton must see something in my face and take pity on me because he says, “Lee, let’s head back to my office. I want to check your sling and go over a few things you’re going to need to do over the next week.”
When I leave the room, Coach and Giles are talking about how they’re going to get Hayes ready for this weekend’s game. It’s a stark reminder of how replaceable you are in this business. Loyalty only goes as far as what you can offer the team, and if I want to remain a Kingsmen next year when my contract is up, I need to prove my worth. Which means healing as fast as I possibly can.
Eighteen
Shayna
The news about Lee’s shoulder is all over every sports channel even before I make it to the training facility to read the official report that verifies most of what they’re saying.
It’s been a couple of days since Lee was benched, and I haven’t seen him. He’s been told to rest, keep his right arm immobile, and eat whatever the nutrition team sends over to him to help speed up healing and reduce inflammation.
Half of me still wants to avoid him because of our kiss, and the other half of me feels compelled to check on him because I’m sure he’s probably not dealing well with this injury.
“What’s got your face all twisted?” Bryce says beside me in the back of our Uber.
“Just work stuff.”
She blows out a breath and eyes me skeptically. “You mean a certain quarterback?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she says dryly. “This is exactly why I’m making you do this.”
By this, she means forcing me out on a double date. She met some guy in line at the coffee shop earlier this week and arranged for me to meet his friend.
“You need to puthimand that kiss in the rearview mirror.” She takes out her lipstick and applies another coat while looking into the camera app of her phone.
It’s not that I think she’s wrong. I know she’s right. But I can’t stop wondering where Lee’s head is at—on both the kiss and his injury.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I squeeze her hand. “Thanks for making me do this. Maybe Will’s friend will be my Mister Right.”
“Or just a good distraction.” She chuckles.
