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“I need to head to the facility for practice, but I didn’t want to do that until I checked on you. They’re sending you home tomorrow, right?”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. “You’d know more than me.”
She raised a brow. “Well, that’s what I hear. So, do you have everything you need there, or do we need to send someone over to get things set up for you? You’re not going to be able to do stairs obviously, and you’ll have the wheelchair for a while, and the cast and boot for even longer, given the extent of your ankle and lower leg injuries. And with that shoulder, you’ll need everything low and accessible enough to grab with your non-dominant hand for a while.”
I let out a breath as I thought it over. Honestly, none of that had even occurred to me. I just wanted out of this hell hole. I needed a good night’s sleep in my own bed. Luckily, said bed was on the ground floor of my house, and I had an open-concept floorplan. And once I could stand, I could reach most everything. I threw with my right, but I was ambidextrous for the most part. I told Tamryn as much, and she looked relieved.
“Good, good. Okay, what about groceries and things? Someone will be over to check on you and do therapy stuff until you can get into the practice facility and the rehab rooms, whenever that may be, but do we need to make sure you have supplies to start out?”
I couldn’t contain my snark. “No, Mom,”—I smirked—“I should be fine. And whatever I don’t have I can have delivered or have my housekeeper pick up for me. Unless you want to make a house call.” I winked.
I saw her features soften as I said that and could have kicked myself for being such an asshole earlier. “We’ll see. Now, get some rest so you can get the heck out of here tomorrow, and don’t be afraid to use the meds, Holden. That’s what they’re there for. You just had several major surgeries, and you have a bunch of metal in your body you didn’t have before. Not to mention the nerve damage. If we have to do extra work to get you to pain management baseline, then we have an extra-long road to travel to actually start rehab. Got it?”
I saluted her with two fingers. “Yes, ma’am.”
Baseline. The fact that I was basically starting from square one was a sobering realization, and just brought back the reality of my current situation. My dream job, getting paid to play the game I loved, was no longer within my grasp. I may not even make it to the championship game with the team I had taken nearly all the way there, the group of guys I’d played with for countless years. And I had no idea what I was going to do next. Honestly, I had no clue if I’d even walk again normally, let alone run. Or if I’d ever regain full range of motion in my arm. Only time would tell where all those chips fell.
However, if I were being honest, it was time I was not looking forward to.
Not at all.
Chapter Four
TAMRYN
On the way back to the practice facility, I couldn’t help but think about what I’d seen in Holden’s eyes and in his bearing that he didn’t actually come out and say. Sure, he’d admitted that he was angry and raw, but I could read between the lines, too. He’d come right out and said that football was his life, and I honestly believed he thought that. I didn’t know much about his personal life, but there was history there. Something had clearly caused him pain. And losing a thing that meant as much to him as football obviously did would be a terrible blow. We would need to heal more than just the physical with Holden Cramer.
I would not let what I’d seen before happen again. I wouldn’t do it. I couldn’t. Yet my job was about so much more than one player and one injury. I had worked hard to get where I was, and I needed to keep myself focused.
I was sitting in my office taking care of some paperwork after an uneventful practice when I heard a light knock on the door. I looked up to see Tate in my doorway.
“Hey, Tamryn. Mind if I come in for a second?”
I pushed aside the papers and motioned for him to join me. “What’s up? Everything okay? You look serious.”
He took a seat in the chair in front of me and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee before meeting my gaze. “How’s our boy?”
Holden. Of course, he’d want to know. But I had to ask, “Haven’t you spoken with him?”
Tate twisted his lips and sighed. “He’s not answering my calls. I’m not taking it personally, at least not yet, but he’s not just my charge, ya know? He’s my friend.”
I could only imagine how hard this was on Tate. He and Holden had come to the team at about the same time. They had worked with each other for well over a decade. It would be almost impossible not to develop some sort of relationship that wasn’t strictly professional in that time. Especially if you had things in common and respected one another, which the two men clearly did. And given what I’d seen on the field the day of Holden’s injury, there was more than just respect there. There was a deep friendship.
I leaned back in my chair. “He’s as well as can be expected. I peeked at his chart. He’s progressing well and is still set to be discharged tomorrow. The last three days have been rough, but he’ll bounce back. Honestly, though, I’m more worried about his mental state.”
Tate scrunched his eyebrows in a frown. “What do you mean?”
I looked at the ceiling, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out how to say what I wanted. “He’s angry and emotional, as expected, but there’s more there. I felt…more. He tried to be level, attempted to joke a bit, but I could see the despondency that he worked to hide. He made some comment about football being his life and all he had.” I looked at Tate then. “And we both know that’s not true. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it right now, you know?”
Tate scrubbed a hand down his face, his whiskers making a scritching sound against his palm. “I was afraid of that. We’ll need to get him in to see Baker. The team psychologist has his work cut out for him, but I don’t think we have a choice. However, I also don’t think that’s something we can bring up to Holden right now. His ego and pride are already bruised. He won’t want to admit that he needs his head shrunk, too.”
“God, no,” I agreed. “I think our best bet is to focus on the physical right now, and then see what he needs. At his age and with him already mentioning possible retirement after the season, while his career as a player is over, his quality of life doesn’t have to be ruined. And you and I both know that he would make an incredible coach or commentator. There are so many options left for him in the league and beyond.” I smiled. “But first, we need to heal his body. Then we can tackle the mind.”
Tate returned my smile. “I was hoping you would say that.” The way he worded that combined with the look on his face worried me a little. Not overly, but there was something there that my coworker wasn’t telling me. I gave him a look.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
He put his foot down and leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his thighs. “I want you to be point on Holden’s case. We have coverage here at the facility, and I’ve talked to the rest of the medical staff and the coaches and owners. They all agree. I think he’s going to need someone to help him through this, and not in a merely conventional way with just visits for doctors’ appointments and physical therapy. He’s going to need more one-on-one help.” He shrugged. “He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me, and the fact that he didn’t immediately kick you out of his hospital room earlier tells me that he at least tolerates you.”
