Chapter 9
chapter nine
It was possible that the indigestion wasn’t indigestion.
Dabbs needed to eat something before tonight’s game, but as he sat on a stool in the kitchen in Burlington’s Sport U Arena, just the idea of putting anything in his stomach made him want to hurl.
He couldn’t stand straight, and the pain in his side had reached unbearable levels in the past couple of hours.
The peppermint tea—last night’s mug and this morning’s—hadn’t helped.
“Cap?” Sandbaker ducked and caught his gaze. “You don’t look so hot.”
Dabbs sucked in a breath through his nose. Tried to answer and let out a pained groan instead.
Sandbaker’s eyes went wide and he backed up a step. “Do you have the flu?”
“It’s not the flu.” Michael Hughes appeared on Dabbs’ other side. He turned Dabbs’ stool around to face him. “Hey, buddy.”
“Something’s wrong,” Dabbs managed in a ragged whisper.
“I know, buddy,” Hughes said calmly. “Come with me, yeah?”
Hughes lifted Dabbs’ left arm and put it around his shoulder before gently hefting him up. Dabbs hissed, gritting his teeth against the pain, and pressed his hand to his right side.
“Jesus.” Bellamy nearly collided with them in the doorway. “Shit, Dabbs, are you okay?”
“He’s not,” Hughes said, walking slowly down the hallway, one arm braced around Dabbs’ back. “You live with the guy—haven’t you noticed that he’s been off?”
If Bellamy responded, Dabbs didn’t catch it, his mind and body consumed with red-hot agony.
He registered the triage room, someone yelling for the ER doctor who was present for every game, being hefted onto a gurney, and then more pain as someone pressed on his lower right side.
He asked someone if he was dying—at least, he thought he did. If anybody answered, he missed it.
Was he dying? But there was so much he wanted to do. He couldn’t die. His sisters would be sad. Who would take care of his dogs?
His thoughts fractured until suddenly, blissfully, the pain began to recede.
“Take a breath, Kyle.” Doctor Bethel squeezed his shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. Eventually,” he added with a smile that Dabbs didn’t appreciate under the circumstances. “The bus will get you to the hospital as quickly as possible for an emergency appendectomy.”
More aware of his surroundings now, Dabbs blinked at the doctor, then at the IV in his arm. “But the game . . . ”
“Don’t worry about the game,” Hughes said as the medical team began wheeling Dabbs’ bed out of the room. Hughes kept pace on Dabbs’ left. “I told you it wasn’t indigestion.”
Dabbs managed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Leave the I-told-you-sos for later, okay?”
Coach Madolora waited for them at the ambulance, and he was all business as he said, “Friedle called your mom,” referring to the Trailblazers’ assistant coach.
“Tell her she doesn’t need to come,” Dabbs said. “She and my stepdad are about to fly out for a long overdue European vacation. This is the last thing they need.”
Madolora gave a lazy shrug. “I make no promises.”
“Where’s my phone?” Dabbs demanded. “Someone get my phone.”
“It’s in your pocket,” Bellamy said.
Dabbs patted at his athletic shorts until he felt his phone in his left pocket. He dialed his mom, and she answered on the first ring.
“I’m booking a flight right now.”
“Mom, no.” Careful not to pull on his IV, Dabbs dug his fingers into his eyes. “I’m fine. Go on your trip. I’m begging you.”
“How am I supposed to go on a trip when my son is in the hospital?”
“It’s a laparoscopic surgery, Mom.” Dabbs looked at Doctor Bethel for confirmation. The doctor nodded. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
“But who will look after you after the surgery?” Mom asked as Dabbs was wheeled into the ambulance. “Nicole’s out of vacation days, Penny’s out west, and your team’s going on a road trip in two days. Who will take care of you without your roommate there?”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Put Bellamy on the phone.”
“Oh, for the love of—”
“Put Bellamy. On the phone.”
Sighing, he thrust his phone at Bellamy. “My mom wants to talk to you.”
“Two minutes,” Doctor Bethel insisted. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital now.”
A touch apprehensively, Bellamy took the phone and put it to his ear. “Hello? . . . Yes, ma’am . . . Yes, ma’am, I agree, he should have someone look after him. About that . . . ” He met Dabbs’ gaze and his smile was a little evil. “I have an idea . . . ”