45. Rhys
CHAPTER 45
RHYS
Good news and bad news .
That’s the thing with me. They always go hand in hand.
When the doctor finally looks up, her eyes land on Tabitha, who is holding my hand. She rubs her thumb in soothing circles like that might magically make me feel my feet again.
The silver lining is that I’m pretty sure I feel blood rush to my dick.
“You must be Mrs. Dupris.”
The name stings. I’d never put this name on Tabitha, not now that I know the pride that comes with being a Garrison. She deserves that kind of legacy.
But she doesn’t correct the doctor. She smiles and replies with a soft, “Hi.”
“I’m Doctor Osei, a neurosurgeon here at the hospital. Rhys, hello again. So I’m just going to cut straight to the chase. The good news is that with imaging, I can see clearly that there was an impact to your T10.” She fires up a computer in the corner and turns it to face us, pointing at the spot.
“There are a couple of small floating bone chips, but aside from that, the spinal cord has not been directly injured. I believe what you’re experiencing is spinal shock, which is your body’s way of forcing you to stay still while it puts energy into healing. Feeling should come back in anywhere from a couple days to a few weeks. Recovery will require rehab.”
I watch Tabitha let out a deep sigh, her shoulders dropping with relief. Me? I still feel sick.
“What’s the bad news?” I grumble, drawing a raised eyebrow from the woman.
She spins on the small stool to face us. “You have a concussion, and I am not a fan of leaving those chips in there to wreak havoc on your spinal cord. You are young and fit and a good candidate for surgery to remove them.”
Tabitha bites at her lip, her thumb still swirling. “And the risks associated with that are?”
I can’t tear my eyes from my wife as she listens intently, soaking up every word the doctor gives her. All I can hear is that voice in my head telling me I don’t deserve her. This loyalty and dedication feels… uncomfortable somehow. Intensely personal.
No one was with me when I had surgery for my ACL. Somehow, I didn’t expect her to actually come here. Not for me. Not with everything she has going on at home. A business, a child, a life .
Eventually, I cut in, “And if this isn’t spinal shock? Then what?”
The doctor looks borderline offended that I’d question her diagnosis.
“Like if my ability to move my legs doesn’t come back, then what?” I’m being snippy, but I’ve barely slept, and underneath my stoic exterior, I am fucking crumbling.
All I can think is that I might never wrestle again. Might never chase Milo at the park again. Might never stand up tall while my wife climbs me like a tree.
All I see is everything I’ve been gifted these last few months slipping away.
“Well, Mr. Dupris, if you never regain movement, then you would be a paraplegic.” My brows furrow. This woman is direct as hell. If I wasn’t already feeling surly, I’d appreciate it a lot more. “But that is not what the imaging shows. And if I get those bone chips out, there will be nothing left to injure the spinal cord.”
“We’re not going to think that way, yeah?” Tabitha squeezes my hand and looks down at me with empathy in her eyes.
It makes me squirm.
“Listen to your wife. A positive mindset will not hurt you or your recovery.”
My tongue presses into my cheek, and I avoid looking at them both. There’s something about being injured and laid out that leaves me feeling helpless. If fight or flight are my reaction options when I feel vulnerable, I usually pick fight.
“Let’s do it then.”
The woman nods, looking sure and satisfied. Her attitude gives me some semblance of peace.
“I will send someone in to go over the paperwork and see how quickly I can book an OR.” With that, she spins on one sneakered heel and struts out of the room.
Tabitha squeezes my hand. “Hey, you got this. We got this.”
I look away, out the window that faces the water. If Ford was involved, that explains the room upgrade I got. “You don’t need to be here, you know.” I hate myself the minute the words leave my mouth, which is why I can’t meet her eyes.
Annoyingly, she smiles. “I know.”
“You have a life, Tabby. Milo. Your restaurant. Your family. You should go be with them. You don’t need to see me like this.” I attempt to pull my hand away, but she grips me harder.
“I am with my family, Rhys. If I didn’t want to be here with you, I wouldn’t be.”
I groan. “You don’t want to be a Dupris, Tabby. I don’t even want to be a Dupris. This is going to be weeks of recovery. You didn’t sign up for this.”
She straightens, the shimmy of her shoulders and the regal way she holds her neck drawing my attention. “I did sign up for this. And I’d do it again.”
I scoff as every destructive piece of my personality rears its ugly head. The unwanted kid, the lone-wolf teenager, the intensely private man who trusts no one. They all sit down in the driver’s seat, and I’m too fucking fragile right now to stop them. “We both know you married me out of necessity. Go home.”
She jerks back, blinking rapidly as though I’ve slapped her. It’s the closest I’ve come to crying since this injury happened. Even the briefest glimpse of hurt on her face makes me feel nauseous.
Her voice is steely when she responds. “No.”
Frustration courses through me. I’ve never needed help and have never been offered it either. She’s stubborn as hell, and it makes me lash out. “I don’t want you here!”
Her hands leave mine, and I immediately want the heat of her back on me. Her eyes fill with tears and her mouth opens and closes silently. Once. Twice. Then she shakes her head, the look of defeat on her face telling me everything I need to know.
And when she gets up and walks out without a backward glance, my stomach bottoms out and my self-loathing hits an all-time high. One tear leaks out the side of my eye.
Crying over an injury didn’t seem worthwhile. But crying over driving away the best thing that’s ever happened to me seems like a worthy cause.