CHAPTER 12 DANNY
Paparazzi are sitting across the street, and they follow us as Alexis navigates the Yukon toward the nearest urgent care.
They follow us.
Shit.
This isn’t what I need right now. I need to figure out what’s wrong with my wrist and what the prognosis is, and I need to get in touch with Troy and the team medical staff before any of this hits the media.
And so I use my right hand to dial Troy as we head in that direction.
“Brewer, how was your Christmas?” he answers.
“Coach, I think I just broke my wrist.”
His reply is silence at first followed by a low, “What?”
“I’m on my way to urgent care with Alexis Bodega and the paparazzi are following us. I wanted to inform you before it hits the media that we went to an urgent care together.”
“Alexis Bod—” he begins, and he cuts himself off as he realizes that’s not really the issue at hand right now. “How bad is it?”
“I can’t make a fist without excruciating pain.”
“Fuck. Any tingling up your arm?” he asks.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story, but basically my wrist broke my fall when another man fell on top of me, so the impact on my wrist was two grown men.”
“What the fuck? How did another man fall on top of—oh Jesus, never mind,” he mutters.
“It was Alexis’s father. I married her last week, and he was trying to get the ring off my finger. He tripped into me and we both fell. It was an accident,” I say, and I glance over at Alexis, who I realize hasn’t heard the full story—until now, anyway.
She’s silently driving while tears stream down her cheeks.
“I need to go, but can you notify the medical staff?” I ask him.
“Of course. Let me know the second you know how bad it is.”
“Yes, Coach.” I cut the call and set my phone in my lap.
“It was his fault?” she whispers through her tears.
“It was an accident.”
She shakes her head. “He was trying to get the ring off your finger. You just said that.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. I’m trying to ride the line of protecting her and not lashing out at him, but it’s a real thin fucking line. I’m not sure how much longer I can teeter on it.
“What else did he say?” she asks.
“It’s all kind of a blur. Something about how they had it all set, and all you had to do was walk down the aisle, and then I ruined it all. He said I didn’t deserve the ring, and that’s when he kind of lunged for me. His intention wasn’t to hurt me, it was to get the ring off my finger.” I lift a shoulder, not sure how true those words are. Maybe his intention was to hurt me.
He didn’t seem very sorry when he did.
We arrive at the parking lot of the urgent care, and she pulls into the space closest to the door. The paparazzi who followed us here—a grand total of three cars—screeches into the parking lot as we both rush out of the car, trying to beat them inside.
I’m sure someone snaps our photo. I’m sure there will be speculation all over the place.
I’m sure there already is after the Christmas special. We’ve stayed off social media, and we hunkered down for Christmas. I have no idea what’s being said about us right now.
But the real world is waiting on the other side of this diagnosis.
The urgent care happens to only have two people waiting when we walk in, and Alexis marches right up to the desk. “We have a possible broken wrist that we’d like to get checked out,” she says firmly but nicely.
The lady behind the desk stares at Alexis for a beat, clearly recognizing her, but then she hands over a clipboard like she would with any other patient. “Fill this out and bring it back up.”
Alexis nods and takes the paperwork, and we sit down. She fills out the forms as she fires questions at me quietly in a corner, and she brings it back up a few minutes later. The other two patients have been called back, and my wrist throbs with pain as we wait.
The woman behind the desk asks for my insurance card, and I stand and turn so Alexis can get my wallet out of my pocket for me.
Her hands on my ass this way is not how I pictured this day going, that’s for damn sure.
Eventually I’m called back, and I nod for Alexis to come with me. The medical assistant checks my vitals, asks several questions about how it happened, and then she lets us know the doctor will be right in.
He comes in a few minutes later. “Daniel Brewer, hello. I’m Dr. Hanson. Let’s take a look at what you’ve got going on.” He examines my wrist as pain rockets through me, and then he says, “My hunch is that it’s broken, but let’s get some x-rays.”
We wait to get set up for the x-ray, and then we wait some more for the results.
I’m used to getting seen immediately by the team doctor. I haven’t had to wait in an urgent care office since I was a kid.
I’m nervous as I wait. Nervous about what he’s going to say. Nervous for how long this is going to keep me from playing the game I love. Nervous as to what all this means.
Eventually he returns. “The good news, Mr. Brewer, is that it’s a clean distal radial fracture. You’ll want to get an MRI with your team doctor to ensure there’s no nerve or ligament damage, but from what I can tell, you’re looking pretty lucky. I’m going to give you a temporary splint and let your doctor determine the next step for you.”
“How long is this going to sideline me?” I ask quietly while he gets moving on the splint. He knows who I am. He knows that I play ball since we filled out that paperwork and he mentioned my team doctor.
“It depends on many factors, but my best estimate is six to eight weeks in a cast, another week or two in a splint, and then likely another couple weeks to build strength back.”
“So we’re looking at eight to twelve weeks?” I ask.
He nods. “I’m sorry, Mr. Brewer. I know that isn’t the news you wanted to hear, and frankly, it’s not what I wanted to tell you. I’m a fan.”
“Thanks,” I mutter. It’s a nice sentiment, but it’s not very helpful right now.
He finishes securing the splint in place around me as I hiss in pain. “Any other questions?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“I’ll write you a prescription for hydrocodone to help ease the pain. If we can do anything else for you…” He hands me a business card.
I thank him, and then he heads out to write the prescription as my eyes lock on Alexis’s.
“I’m so, so sorry, Danny,” she whimpers.
“Hey, hey,” I soothe, standing and taking her into my arms. “It’s not your fault.”
She folds herself into my chest, whimpering and clearly feeling bad about what her father did to me.
Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out how I can use this to my advantage to get the information I want out of him.
And that is how I know that I’m truly a changed man.
This isn’t going to come between us. This is just one more thing that’s going to push us even harder into each other.