She looked taken aback for a second but held her ground. “You only get a handful of those, Holden. I know you’re processing, and you’re going to lash out, but that isn’t going to fly for long. We’ll figure this out. Together.”
I sighed. “It’s like you think you can just fix this. This isn’t fixable, doc. My career is over. There is nothing you can do. And there certainly isn’t anything we can do together. Your time would be better served helping those who can return to the field.”
Together was a foreign concept to me anyway. Sure, I had my teammates, my league friends, and I knew the coaches cared about me, but outside of that… Nope. After my parents’ deaths, my ex-wife had made it very clear that the only person I could rely on was myself. Which was partly why she was no longer a part of my life.
“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 4
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’ appointment
s 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.”
I shook my head, then stopped to think about it for a minute. The truth was, I wanted to help Holden. I wanted to help him heal. I wanted to remind him that he still had things in his life that could bring him joy. I just didn’t know if I was the right person for that job.
Sure, I had a unique skill set. Not only was I damn good at my job as a sports medicine doctor, I had seen what career-ending injuries could do to a spirit. But was Holden really in that same boat? No, he would never play ball again, but he was still in the prime of his life. He still had numerous opportunities ahead of him. He was the G.O.A.T., for goodness sake. How many didn’t have that? My dad, God rest his soul, didn’t. Dad didn’t know, with certainty, that he had anything beyond the game. Clearly, he felt like he didn’t have anything left, despite having my mother and me. I never wanted to see that utter look of despair and defeat in someone’s eyes again. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I would do if I did.
Tate must have seen me working through some things, because he remained quiet for a moment before he said, “Please just think about it, Tamryn. Holden needs you. The next few weeks are going to be incredibly difficult for him. We’re not even sure that he’ll be able to travel for the big game. And if he can’t, someone’s going to need to be there for him. He’s not going to take that well. But I won’t pretend that this will be easy. It won’t be. Holden can be an ornery bastard. I love the guy like the brother I never had, but…yeah.”
I thought that over for a minute and realized it just made me more determined. Focused yet afraid, I looked into Tate’s green eyes and said the only thing I could.
“All right, okay. As long as everybody knows and is in agreement… Count me in. I’ll do what I can. I can reassign my other major cases for a bit. But I make no promises.”
Chapter 5
Holden
Home sweet home. I was thrilled to be out of the hospital, and I had been home for nearly a week now, but my house had never felt so empty. And it was so still, the silence was deafening. I felt like I was coming out of my skin. I had no idea what to do with myself, and every time I thought about what I wanted to be doing, the reminder was like a dagger to the heart.
My incredible housekeeper, Mrs. Reyes—Yari—had gotten me settled in comfortably when I was discharged. The woman was a godsend. She’d answered the ad I’d placed when I moved from Washington to Maryland fifteen years ago, and I honestly didn’t know what I’d do without her. She cleaned, she ran errands when I was too busy with practice and traveling, and she cooked and left me incredible Cuban dishes in my freezer to heat up when I was home, and she was an amazing sounding board. A better mother than mine ever was.
As I wheeled myself into the kitchen to get something for breakfast, my motorized wheelchair whirring, I saw that she had already been by. I was surprised I hadn’t heard her. Especially when I snuck a peek at the clock on the microwave and saw that it was after eleven. I’d slept way later than usual, but my body clearly needed the rest.
Sitting on the island—amidst the mail and a perky bouquet of wildflowers she’d gotten from somewhere—were a dozen homemade cranberry walnut muffins, a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a note, propped against my pill bottles.
Holden.
Morning, mijo. I baked your favorite. Eat. Drink. Get your strength up. And for the love of the saints, take your medicine. I will know if you don’t. And I will tan your hide. I’ll be back later with groceries.
Yours,
Yari
P.S: Your phone was lighting up like a Christmas tree when I made your juice. Call your friends, you ornery cabro.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Even being chastised, I could feel the love. Especially in her nickname for me. She had heard the fans calling me the greatest of all time—shortened to simply: the G.O.A.T. Which, frankly, I found ridiculous. I mean I was no Roger Staubach or Johnny Unitas, but I guessed my numbers spoke for themselves. Anyway, once Yari heard the term, she took to calling me el cabro. Goat in her native tongue, though she always—as she had in the note—added some adjective to cut me down to size and make me remember my place. Just another reason to love the woman. She never treated me like a celebrity. More like her irritating nephew that she couldn’t help but love.
I poured a glass of juice, grabbed a muffin, and glanced at my phone where it sat plugged in on the counter by the fridge. I had seen the surgeon, the coaches, and my contracted caretaker as I was required to, but I wasn’t ready to talk to anybody else. Not yet. I was sure the other doctors were checking in, and likely most of my teammates, but I needed a little more time. We didn’t have practice today… My thoughts trailed off. No, not we. I didn’t have practice at all anymore. It was hard to know my place right now. I had been calling in for the team meetings as much as I could, but I wasn’t sure they really needed me. The team had won the divisional round as I’d assumed, even without me manning the helm, and were on their way to the big game. As expected, they were set to face an incredible Seattle team in two weeks, and I still didn’t even know if I’d be able to travel with the guys.
I glanced out the window at the harbor beyond. The view from this house was amazing. Even in the winter. When I left Seattle, I worried that I’d miss the city and its beauty, but Baltimore had a charm all its own, and I’d settled in pretty quickly. Even now, a walk down through the historic areas brought me a strange kind of peace, especially in the spring when the trees were in bloom.
I finished the decadent carbs that Yari had so lovingly baked and glanced at my phone once again. I should really check it. But doing just about anything else sounded like a better plan. So, instead of doing what I should be doing, I wheeled myself into the bedroom to find some clothes and get cleaned up as best I could.
Yet another blow to the ego. I couldn’t even shower by myself right now. I required the help of an incredibly stoic and stern-faced home nurse by the name of Osric. The caretaker was great, he really was, and fantastic at his job, but I always felt a bit like an invalid or a science experiment whenever he was around.
Thinking of him had my mind immediately going to Tate. He had called and texted several times, but I just couldn’t bring myself to reach out to my buddy. The man was a great friend, but every time I even thought of him, I recalled the look he’d given me on the field after the injury. The one that let me know how bad things were without words. He never could lie to me. And while part of me was glad of that, another part couldn’t help the association and thereby the animosity. In my gut I knew it was groundless, but sometimes you just couldn’t help the paths your brain took.
Another doctor flashed in my mind. Tamryn. I hadn’t been very nice to her when she came to check on me in the hospital, but she’d caught me at a very vulnerable moment, and the woman did strange things to me anyway.
My interests had been piqued since the moment she walked into camp and was introduced as our new injury management doctor. You’d have to be blind not to notice her beauty. That long, flowing blond hair and those dark-blue eyes, so deep they reminded me of a stormy sky. And then there was her body. Any red-blooded American male would notice the way she filled out her jeans and those tight tees and tanks she loved to wear, but it was more than that. The woman had a kind of…aura. An old soul. Something intangible that you couldn’t pinpoint or explain but that was captivating, nonetheless. And when she smiled, and that dimple came out to play… Until the hospital, I hadn’t remembered seeing it before, but when I did, it took my breath.
I shook my head to clear it of my waxing poetic thoughts about the good doctor, and decided to buck up and check the device of doom. I was sure Tamryn had texted or called again, too. She’d been incredibly insistent since the hospital. But, again, I wasn’t told I had to talk to her, so I chose
not to. She was right there with Tate in that column in my brain. The association was almost too much. She had seen me at my lowest, and it would likely take me a bit to get past those memories.
Rolling across the barnwood laminate in my dining room to the kitchen once more, I was just about at the counter when said device started buzzing. I felt my stomach drop and noticed a little head rush. Why was I so anxious?
I maneuvered the joystick with my good hand, trying to hurry, and steered myself right into the cabinet on my bad side, the jolt to my body stealing my breath and making me a little nauseous.
“Motherfucker.” I tipped back my head and swallowed another outburst, instead huffing a breath out my nose. “Christ on a cracker.” I blew out another breath, hoping the worst of the pain would ease and reached up to grab the phone, yanking it away from the charger. The cord ripped from the socket and smacked me in the face.
“Fucking hell.”
Glancing at the screen, I saw that I had a notification for a new Marco Polo video—from Tamryn. I brought up the app and watched as she came on screen in the parking lot of the stadium. She looked stunning in the late-afternoon sun. And pissed. Damn, she was hot when she was angry.
“Holden. Stop ignoring me and everybody else. For the love of God. You’re being a jerk. We’re your team, and we’re worried about you. We care. Call us back. Tate said you’ve been ghosting him, and that isn’t cool. He’s your friend. And I’m your doctor, so if you don’t call me back or answer one of my texts soon, I’m going to hunt you down. Fair warning. The only reason I haven’t yet is because I’m getting regular updates from the surgeon and Osric. But that’s not enough anymore. It’s time for us to talk and for me to do my damn job.”
Blue Forty-Two: A Quick Snap Novella Page 2
