Chapter 7
Seven
“It’s cracked in three places.” Doc pointed out the lines on the X-ray he’d pulled up on his computer screen.
Caleb hissed, staring down at his foot, which had given out on his final run, the pain instant and sharp as fuck.
He’d managed to keep the docs off his back until he’d limped off the course after the best run in his Olympic history, and he’d collected his bronze medal wearing a big old wrap and on crutches. But now he had to pay the piper.
The team doctor peered at Caleb over his face mask. “You need to rest, Caleb. I think you need to take off the remainder of the season.”
“Fuck.” He leaned his head back against the little raised cushion on the exam bench. “This whole trip has been bullshit.”
Competing in the Olympics during Covid restrictions sucked. Competing with a stress fracture in his foot sucked worse. Cracking that foot and having to end his World Cup season?
Hat trick, as they said in hockey, which, yeah, he still watched. Sue him. Hawk was stunning, and he loved watching him play and texting what he was seeing for Hawk to read after the game.
“Yay.”
“Sorry, kiddo. But if you want to try for another medal in four years, you have to be careful. You hobble yourself now, it’s all over, and your bones are crumbling from the ground up.”
“I know.” He blinked hard, so fucking pissed at his body for betraying him like it had over the last few years.
Rheumatoid arthritis was the diagnosis, and the inflammation was affecting his bone density and joint strength.
He was on a strict regimen of collagen supplements, an anti-inflammatory diet, and a biologic, but he only had so many more years he might be able to compete.
But a bronze medal wasn’t where his heart was.
“Are you going to cast me up?” He hated casts, because they were a crapshoot as to how much help they could be.
“No. I am grounding you for a week here in Beijing while the swelling goes down. Then I’ll put you in a boot to get home, and we’ll go to the specialist from there.”
He nodded, glad not to see a cast going on. That old-school shit really upped the chance of his joint twisting or of an infection happening while they couldn’t see what was going on.
“Anyway, I want you to stay off it. Crutches, wheelchair, or a knee scooter. That’s it. Got it? No weight bearing.”
He heaved a sigh, trying for funny. “Ugh. That blows. But okay. Send me a hot nurse.”
Or maybe send a hockey player who was two Stanley Cups into his career…
Caleb thought about Hawk a lot. Like a lot for a guy who got hit on at every event and hooked up a couple times a year with hot guys who were up-and-coming and not weird about sexuality.
But Caleb had to admit, when he was sitting in his apartment in Vail, his feet elevated with ice packs on them, he thought about just going to a ThunderSnow game over in Denver and seeing if Hawk wanted to see him.
The man was happy to text with him, but would he want to get together? Caleb had no idea.
Doc snorted. “No. You need to rest. Period.”
Caleb pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. “How will I ever survive?”
“I don’t care. Read a lot. Watch Chinese TV. Jack off a million times. Just don’t put weight on your foot.” Doc waved his assistant over, who brought a little sock sleeve thing and a boot to fit to Caleb’s foot.
“Do I at least get a hotel room? Please?”
“Yeah, I think that would be wise. Moving you out of the village will mean you actually get rest, and we’ll get you an accessible room somewhere on the other side of the city. Some of them are emptying out a bit now.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks, Doc.” There was no sense in being ugly. It wasn’t Doc’s fault he was falling apart. At the ripe old age of twenty-five.
“I’ll get with your coach, and we can get you moved.”
“Yeah.” He winced as the boot was fitted and he waited for whatever they could get him in the way of crutches or something to get moving again. He just wanted to be settled and not have to deal for several days. He’d catch up on sleep, texts and, hopefully, TV.
How U hanging, bro?
Caleb glanced at his phone, the text from his buddy Travis making him grimace.
I am losing my mind
Three days into his hotel stay at the Hilton Garden Inn by the airport in Beijing, and he’d read a million eBooks, watched a ton of videos of his halfpipe runs on his computer, hacked the streaming services he could get with a VPN, and obsessively watched the Olympics as well as any sports he could get from home.
His foot hurt, his ass was starting to itch, and he wanted to go home.
U want me to bring you McDonald’s?
Nah it would just get cold and gross
The hotel restaurants had some Western options, and he loved the spicy stuff they had in some of the local dishes, so he was set.
He was just really bored.
And a little scared that he was in for a lot of pain as time went on.
OK. I’m in town for 2 more days. text if u need me
I will. thx
Travis was a good friend. He’d gotten calls and texts from a lot of the guys on tour, but he was pretty sure it didn’t make him feel better.
He flopped back and traded the phone for the remote, ready to watch whatever English language program was on right now.
The phone on the bedside table rang, scaring the absolute shit out of him, and he grabbed it, his heart racing.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Lancaster? Hello, this is the concierge. We have a delivery for you.”
“Oh? Okay, cool. Can you send it up?”
“Of course. Someone will be up shortly.” The lady on the phone had a neat British accent, and he grinned, loving how wild this place was.
“Cool, thanks.”
He hung up, then slid to the edge of the bed before shifting himself over to the desk chair, which had wheels. He’d learned he could save himself crutching if he rolled places like the door for room service and the bathroom.
And it was kind of like a sport, right? Bonus, he didn’t have to stand on one foot next to the door and wait for the hotel delivery person.
When the knock came, he opened the door eagerly, because any kind of distraction was exciting at this point.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lancaster, may I come in and place this on the table?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He dug in his pocket to pull out a tip. He’d learned to keep some small cash in his clothes on day one.
The attendant smiled and carried a big gift basket to the desk, taking the tip with a bow and leaving the room.
Caleb rolled over to the desk to peer at the cellophane-wrapped basket.
Wow. It was one of those deals that was available in the gift shop at the Olympic village, full of fun snacks and treats from the US, the UK, and Australia.
It also had some pens and a puzzle book, as well as some fuzzy socks and some little fancy toiletries.
But what caught his interest was the shipping envelope that had been tucked into the ribbon binding the whole thing together. It was a nine-by-twelve padded envelope with an international overnight shipping label from the States.
“What the hell?”
He grabbed it and ripped it open. Well, more like yanked it until it stretched enough to break. What fell out was some kind of a shirt and a greeting card.
He looked at the shirt first. It was a sports jersey in blue and red, and it had the Colorado ThunderSnow logo on the front. On the back, the number was twenty-four, and the name was Montineau.
His mouth went dry, and Caleb tore open the card, staring at the slashing, hand-printed writing inside.
Just saw on the news you were laid up in Beijing. Thought you could use some goodies. Wear the shirt to cheer me on. Congrats on the medal.
Your Olympics buddy,
Hawk
Holy shit. Hawk had sent him a care package. Like, out of the blue. Because he’d seen Caleb was hurt.
He shook out the shirt, grinning when he saw it was signed. He slipped it on, then opened the gift basket to grab a packet of TimTams. Yum. He knew he’d have to go back to his anti-inflammatory diet when he got home, but right now the cookies would really make him happy.
His Olympics buddy.
He grabbed his phone when he got back to the bed, grinning like a crazy man as he texted Hawk to thank him. The communication between them ebbed and flowed depending on how busy they were, and with the Olympics lead-up, Caleb had let it slide.
Hey, man, got the gift basket. Thx
Hey, no prob
The answer came back with gratifying speed. Caleb glanced at the clock. Noonish.
What time is it there?
9pm. No game tonight
oh cool. You got a minute? No weight bearing. Bored out of my mind
He got a devil smiley back.
The things I could do with that
He laughed out loud, because damn that was good to hear, even if Hawk didn’t even mean it.
Thanks
I can chat for a bit. Plug in your phone, babe so we can get some good texting in
Will do
He was plugged in and ready, and he grabbed his cookies, happier than he’d been in a long while.
Even if his damn foot was broken.