Chapter 21
Twenty-One
J oe
He managed to get seated, fasten his seatbelt, and start the car.
And then he cried. Deep, bone-shaking sobs that made his voice hoarse and blurred his vision so that he couldn’t start driving yet.
He sat for several long moments before he could pull himself together enough to catch his breath.
Then he put the car in reverse and nearly screamed when he moved his right leg from the brakes to the gas.
“Pull your motherfucking self together, Judd. You’ve gotta get home.” He blew out a breath, backed out of his spot, and made his way out of the lot.
The weekend had gotten off to a rough start.
After missing a connecting flight Friday, spending the night in the Denver airport, and then arriving in LA with only three hours until rehearsal, he’d only had time to go to the hotel, clean up, shave, and Uber to the venue.
Everything went fine in rehearsals, but there was a complicated tangle of bodies kind of lift move toward the end and something in his hip snapped during the performance, the hip that had been bothering him for the past year.
He’d managed to finish the routine, but had to improvise with a leap and cut out a tumbling run.
He played it off, but he’d had to tell his stage manager, who got him to the production’s trainer.
They’d wanted to take him to the hospital, but Joe swore he’d ice it and take anti-inflammatories instead.
The next morning, however, he could barely lift his leg.
He’d gone to a private clinic where he’d been once before and had X-rays taken, which thankfully showed no stress fracture.
The doctor had given him muscle relaxers, painkillers, all shit Joe likely wouldn’t take, but he’d also told him this could be a career-ending injury if he didn’t rest it.
No activity, no dancing, period, for at least three to four weeks.
Joe had gritted his teeth and lied through the appointment that of course he’d stay off it.
The doctor had told him he should use crutches and he’d nodded—of course he’d get some when he got home. He’d called Arthur and let him know.
“Joe, I’ll do whatever you ask, you know that. But don’t ignore this, don’t ignore his advice. There will come a time when you can’t just act your way out of a situation like this. You won’t be able to just bounce back like you used to, and I know you don’t want to be done yet.”
Arthur knew about Joe’s toe still dangling in the dance career door, that Joe wasn’t ready to close that door.
“ Fuck fuck FUCK !” Joe slammed his fist against the steering wheel and cried some more. Why couldn’t his stupid body cooperate ?
The drive home from the airport was a white-knuckle experience, but focusing on driving took his mind off the pain for a bit.
Leslie’s name kept appearing on the screen every few minutes, first texts and then calls.
By the time Joe pulled into the Higdon lot, it was after ten and all was quiet.
He texted Leslie: “I’m home. Talk tomorrow,” and then he hobbled into the dorm.
Matty’s country music was blaring so Joe hoped he wouldn’t run into him.
“Hey, Coach Judd! You were so great last night!”
He turned to find a couple of the football players and Terrell coming down the stairs.
“Oh, thanks. You guys watched?” Why couldn’t he get the damn door unlocked? Oh right, his hands were shaking.
“Of course we did. They put it up on the big screen in the lounge upstairs. The whole dorm was watching. I think they had it playing in the student center too. Man, that was amazing how you—”
“Thanks, guys, really. I gotta get to bed—”
He dropped his keys and tried to bend over to grab them, but he had to stand up and let out a breath so he wouldn’t scream.
“Coach? You need some help?”
Terrell picked up his keys for him. When Joe reached out to grab them, he gritted his teeth and tried to smile, but Terrell pulled the keys back. “Hey guys? I’ll catch up with you later.”
The players waved and headed out the front doors.
“Terrell—” Joe warned.
“Let me get you inside. Then you can tell me what’s going on before I call my mom.”
Joe cursed and let Terrell open the door. He started to walk but he couldn’t put weight on his leg, so he used the handle of his suitcase to hobble into the apartment and Terrell took his backpack from him.
“Thanks, man, but I’m okay. Just a little strained tendon in my hip. I’m going to shower and then ice it and go to bed. I promise I’m fine.”
Terrell put his backpack down. “I’d believe that if I hadn’t seen your face. So who am I calling? Because you are not okay.”
“You always been this much of a pain in the ass?”
“Coach? I’m not playing.”
Joe groaned. He made it to the counter and leaned on it to catch his breath.
“Look, I’m going to go into the training center across the hall and take an ice bath, then I’m going to go to bed.
If you would be so kind as to just make sure I get over there without falling on my face, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to bother your parents—”
“Coach.”
Joe’s phone buzzed again and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“Oh, great. Coach Payton. Awesome. The last thing I need is him showing up over here. Give me a hand, would you?” When Terrell raised an eyebrow at him, Joe said, “I’m not too proud to beg here, Terrell.
Please. I went to the doctor; I have medicine. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
Terrell mumbled something about adults and hypocrites, but he let Joe lean on him as they hobbled out Joe’s door and across the hall.
Joe used his keys to unlock the training room door and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the low tub that he could get in and out of. Hopefully. That was the plan.
“You’re gonna need help—”
“Just help me fill it with water and ice. You’re not going to be in here when I do this. Keep your phone handy, if you want, in case I get stuck, but I promise I’ll be fine.”
Terrell set up the tub and grabbed some towels, then he turned on Joe with a scowl.
“I’ll be up in my room. Keep your phone and call me if you need me. If I don’t hear from you in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in. Let me at least call my mom?”
“I promise I will call her if it gets worse. I’m going to see her in the morning. I’ll tell her then. Thank you.”
Terrell was a good kid and Joe was not proud of roping him into his mess. He also had his mom’s feistiness so Joe knew he wasn’t going to just let this go.
Dammit.
Joe stripped out of his nasty airplane clothes and mentally prepared himself for sinking into excruciating pain.
Why the fuck do I do this to myself? He questioned all of his life choices as he set the timer for fifteen minutes and stepped into the tub.
He used his upper body strength, grateful his shoulders weren’t fucked since he’d had cortisone shots a few years ago, and he lowered himself into the bath.
He gasped and cursed and the tears fell involuntarily as his ass hit the bottom.
Why? Why did he have to torture himself? Why did this stupid career, the only thing he’d ever been good at in his entire life, have to hurt so fucking much?
He sat there sinking deeper and deeper into self-flagellation, jabbing at his soul’s deepest fears and beliefs, until he mentally gave himself a slap.
Then he concentrated on breathing, counting between inhales and exhales, focusing on being there rather than feeling his body.
His phone buzzed and he assumed it was the timer so he picked it up only to hear, “Hello? Joe?”
Leslie . Joe crumbled. His teeth chattered and the tears started up in earnest.
“Joe?”
“Hi,” he finally said. I miss you. I need you, please Leslie. He wanted to cry out, wanted to beg for Leslie to be by his side, terrified of being alone with his thoughts and his pain, but the shame kept his mouth shut.
“Joe! Where the hell are you?”
Joe heard banging outside and realized that, shit, Leslie was at his door. He was there.
“I’m in the training room,” Joe said weakly, “I’m here.”
Two beats later the door burst open and Leslie filled the doorway, blocking out the dim light from the hall.
“Oh my God, what happened? Joe, I’ve been trying to call you.”
Joe’s buzzer went off for real this time.
“I’m sorry, Leslie. I came straight here.”
“Yeah, Terrell texted me. Said I should check in with you.”
Joe let his head fall back. Damn kid. He couldn’t blame him.
“How was Atlanta?”
“Jesus, Joe—”
“Don’t forget Mary.”
Leslie planted his hands on his hips. “Your lips are blue. Let me get you out of there.”
“I can—”
“Stop it. Babe. Why didn’t you…never mind. I’ll yell at you when I’ m sure you’re not going to die of hypothermia. You’ll appreciate me for it later.”
Joe took Leslie’s hand and let the much more powerful man pull him up from the bath. He’d left his boxers on, thankfully, because he didn’t need complete humiliation tonight. Once he was standing, Leslie carried his weight as he stepped out of the tub, then he wrapped him in several towels.
“If you just let me lean on you—”
Leslie pulled his arm over his shoulders. “Where does it hurt?”
Joe gazed up into his blue eyes and his bravado melted.
“Everywhere.” His chin quivered and he cursed as a sob escaped.
“I’m going to carry you.” It was not a request.
Joe bit his lip and gave a slight nod before Leslie scooped him up effortlessly.
Joe groaned and tucked his head into Leslie’s neck as Leslie guided them out the door, across the hall, and into Joe’s apartment.
He spoke to someone before the door closed behind them, but Joe was fighting too hard to keep it together to care who saw them.
“We need to get you moving around and then get you a hot shower and then some sleep. I’m going to put you down and let’s try to walk. Slowly. Lean on me.”
Leslie set him down gently and thankfully the ice had numbed the area enough that the slicing pain had eased. Numb was better than pain tonight.