Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Lance kept looking at him like he was expecting him to collapse or scream or suffer a breakdown. Even though Lance had finally stopped apologizing and fallen silent, Tanner was confident that he knew exactly what Lance was thinking and feeling. Lance’s guilty expression pained Tanner almost as much as his leg—almost, but not quite.
They were waiting for the results of the X-rays, which would be shared with them in a meeting with the radiologist, Dr. Kramer, but Tanner didn’t need her to tell him it was broken. There was no doubt about it. He’d known as soon as he’d taken that disastrous step backwards. Had felt the bone break. The pain that accompanied the break was just too damned familiar, forcing him to clench his teeth hard enough to crack his molars to hold back his screams. He wouldn’t give that piece of shit fuckwad the satisfaction. He’d waited until Lance’s dad was out the door before finally collapsing onto the couch as the pain flared up in nauseating waves. His leg burned and felt hollow at the same time. He wasn’t sure how to describe it properly, but he knew that weird sensation well enough to know what the new X-rays would show.
Still, he could tell Lance was working on staying calm, so he didn’t say anything negative as the nurse handed him water and pain relievers, urging him to relax, while they waited for the results.
Relax, sure thing. After all, what the fuck else was there to do?
“I’m not going to spontaneously combust or anything, you know.” Tanner tried for a laugh as he gave Lance a sideways glance. It failed. Lance did not look amused. At all.
“We should call your sister,” Lance suggested with a frown.
“What for?” Tanner asked with a quick shrug. “We don’t know anything yet. What would be the point?”
“She was with you for your kinesiologist appointment, right? She could talk to the doctors, maybe help them decide—”
“ I was at that appointment, and I’m perfectly capable of deciding what to do with my own leg, thank you very much,” Tanner replied sarcastically. “I’m not four years old, Lance.”
“Then maybe she’d like to be here for support!” Tanner had never heard Lance be so snippy. But it wasn’t as if Tanner was feeling all that chipper and Disneyesque himself. He was not having a magical day. Quite the opposite in fact. It would have been so easy— so damned easy —to respond in kind and pick a fight. Just the two of them, yelling at each other in a semi-private ER room. Now, wouldn’t that be a fun show for the nursing staff? Tanner restrained himself. Lance was upset. Riddled with guilt. He was just reacting. Picking a fight wouldn’t accomplish anything.
“Let’s just wait and see what the doctors have to say. Then we’ll call the panic police.” Tanner grabbed Lance’s hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. He needed Lance to snap out of this dark mood. It would be best for both of them. The situation was bad enough as it was. An argument was not the solution.
Lance looked at the floor, avoiding Tanner’s gaze as he’d been doing for the past hour.
“How the fuck are you this calm?” Lance asked.
Tanner shrugged and sighed, still holding Lance’s hand. “How would panicking help me?”
“I fucking broke your leg!” Lance snapped, startling Tanner with his sudden outburst. Tanner didn’t let go of Lance’s hand though; instead, he tightened his grip.
“No, you didn’t,” he stated calmly. “Not even your piece of shit father can be blamed for that. I was a moron and stepped the wrong way. It could have happened while playing tag with my nieces.” He wanted to alleviate Lance’s guilt and reassure him at the same time.
“Oh, fuck off!” Lance snarled. Jerking out of Tanner’s hold, he moved to lean against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “I was a fucking pussy back at the house. I froze. I just stood there. I was so fucking weak that you had to step in and save me.” He snorted in self-disgust.
Instinctively, Tanner wanted to protest Lance’s self-flagellation. But he needed to stop and think about the best approach. Lance was pretty wound up, filled with anger and regret, and targeting himself. So, Tanner needed to look at the situation from a new angle.
“Is that what you think of me?” Tanner asked, sitting up on the gurney. Pain shot up and down his leg again, but he ignored it.
Lance looked mystified.
“I don’t—”
“Is that what you think of me? When I ask for your help to get up from the couch? Or when I had to fucking wheel around the zoo on a knee scooter? Or when I wake up screaming in the middle of the fucking night and you have to pet my hair like I’m a six-year-old to calm me down so I can get back to sleep? Do you think I’m weak? Am I a pussy then?” He fought to keep his voice steady—to sound rational and perfectly logical.
“What? Of course not!” Lance protested. Tanner almost smiled in satisfaction.
“How is it different? Your father took a fucking swing at you. The guy who’s supposed to love and support you looked like he wanted to kill you!” he said, finally allowing emotion to color his words. “Of course I tried to protect you! Because you never should have had to deal with that! Because someone should have fucking stepped up a long time ago and put a fucking end to it. And nothing— nothing! —that happened tonight, was your fault!”
Lance leaned back against the wall looking more like a wounded child than an adult. He looked shattered by Tanner’s heartfelt defense of him. Like he’d said something a much younger version of Lance had been waiting to hear for a very long time. The shock passed and Lance reached for him. His strong arms wrapped around Tanner’s torso, carefully pulling him close.
“I’m sorry you had such a shitty father. I’m so fucking sorry nobody ever stepped in to protect you. I’m so sorry,” Tanner whispered softly against Lance’s shoulder.
They held onto one another for a long time. Long enough that by the time they separated, Lance’s initial anger and guilt had been replaced by the urgent need to make sure Tanner knew he was going to be there for him regardless of what might lie ahead.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Kramer and two other physicians arrived with the results of the X-rays. Tanner knew that having three doctors meet with him were two more than assessment of a simple fracture required. All three looked tense. He didn’t know any of them, but the thickness of his medical file held by Dr. Kramer indicated she probably knew a helluva lot about him.
“Good evening again, Mr. Casey. How’s the pain?” Dr. Kramer asked as she reached his side. She was maybe late 40s and had an impressive air of competence about her that was reassuring.
“A little past kinky, and just shy of agonizing,” he replied, hoping a quick joke would ease the tension in the room. The team laughed politely. He wasn’t fooled though. Three doctors in one room could only mean bad news.
“Good,” she said, with a nod. She turned to the two doctors standing behind her and extended a hand towards them.
“This is Dr. Pilsner, head of orthopedics, and Dr. Klein, head of kinesiology. I asked them to join us since your case is a little— complex . Is that okay with you?” she asked, studying his expression to gauge his reaction.
He gave a brief nod as he mentally prepared himself to see something he did not want to deal with.
Dr. Kramer pulled the X-rays from his patient file and hooked them up to the light box, displaying what could only be described as his shitshow of a leg.
Lance gasped in horror, unable to control his reaction. Tanner didn’t blame him.
He’d seen this mishmash of bone fragments, screws, and rods before, of course. Many times. The orthopedic surgeon who had performed the jigsaw puzzle of operations on him had gone on at great length about the numerous fractures and the extent of the damage. He’d been pushing for an amputation, but Tanner had been adamant that he would never consent to removal of his leg. Not then and not now. Even after a 40-minute lecture about the amount of pain he’d be in for the rest of his life, Tanner had still refused to budge.
The results of the work done in saving the leg weren’t pretty. A large metal rod extended down the full length of his femur and another ran down his tibia. Each bone fragment was attached with pins and screws. His leg had healed—sort of, but it looked—pretty damned rough.
Unfortunately, several new breaks appeared on today’s X-rays. Tanner grabbed his leg reflexively as he recognized the distinct possibility of having to go through yet another round of surgeries. He groaned inwardly as he summoned the strength for a battle he was determined to win at all costs.
“As you can see,” Dr. Pilsner began, “you’ve suffered three new breaks, here, here, and here,” he said, pointing to each one. Two were in his shin. The first was on a diagonal with several uneven points, resembling a row of shark’s teeth. Pointing to the second one, he said, “This one is particularly problematic because it spiralized around the metal support. The one in your femur is less severe, although it did cause quite a few bone fragments to detach from their screws.” He pointed to those places higher up on the screen.
Tanner nodded in agreement with the doctor’s assessment.
“Okay, so what’s the plan? We add another metal rod? Screw them back together? How many operations will this take?” At least he was comfortable with discussing the various medical procedures and plans to schedule them, since he’d gone through a similar process when he’d returned to the US. Focusing on these key points made the pain more tolerable and helped him control his anxiety.
But Dr. Pilsner didn’t provide any kind of plan, nor did he suggest any procedures to repair the breaks. He merely shook his head, and said, “No, adding a rod wouldn’t help.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Tanner asked, scanning their faces, only to find that all-too-familiar expression of doom looking back at him. “What’s the plan?” His voice had become strident, rising steadily in volume as his stomach twisted with dread.
“Mr. Casey, there is no plan,” Dr. Pilsner said. “We cannot repair your leg.”
Tanner thought he’d gone deaf for a second because surely, he had misunderstood Dr. Pilsner’s prognosis.
“What do you mean you can’t repair his leg?” Lance asked, joining the conversation for the first time. He took a step closer to Tanner. They’d stopped holding hands before the doctors had entered, but Tanner reached for him.
Dr. Pilsner looked between them questioningly, not understanding the nature of their relationship, but he answered Lance anyway. “There is nothing we can do for Mr. Casey. No operation is going to fix this,” he advised with a heavy sigh of resignation. “The bones will heal just as they are.”
“And he’ll be able to walk on it?” Lance asked on Tanner’s behalf, since he just sat there in stunned silence.
“No,” Dr. Klein answered confidently. “Even if the leg heals well enough for it to support Mr. Casey’s body weight, the angle of the bones, the arthritis—it would all result in too much swelling and pain—” she said, shaking her head. “He’ll keep his leg, but it’ll be—useless, more or less.”
“I’m sorry, perhaps I misunderstood you,” Lance said flatly with a concerned frown. “Are you saying you’re not going to help him?” These mutually agreed upon determinations seemed ridiculous coming from three well-trained, experienced physicians.
“No. What we’re saying is—we are unable to repair the leg. The damage to the leg is irreversible, and at this stage, the only viable option is amputation.”
Tanner felt himself shut down, his expression pinched and determined. Silence descended while the doctors waited for him to speak. When Tanner didn’t respond, Lance stepped in, peltering them with questions.
“And if you—if you amputate, he’ll be able to walk? Are we talking about below the knee or—”
Dr. Pilsner started to answer, but Tanner jumped back into the conversation and cut him off.
“No,” Tanner snapped.
Lance turned to him with a pleading look. Tanner hated to see Lance so distressed, but there was no way in hell he’d agree with their recommendations.
“We think we could keep it to below the knee. The damage to his femur isn’t nearly as bad as—”
“No!” Tanner roared at Dr. Pilsner, and everyone jumped.
Dr. Pilsner sighed, as if tired of repeating himself. “Mr. Casey, it’s a dead leg,” he said with clinical detachment. “It’ll be like dragging around a—a corpse!” He cracked a small smile at his own morbid sense of humor. And this was the final goddamned straw for Tanner.
*****
It was so easy to forget when talking to Tanner that he’d once been a prisoner of war. Tied up, confined to a cell, abused, sitting alone in a dark place, with little or no hope of being rescued. No one could come back from that as a whole person. Despite that, Tanner often made it appear as if he had escaped that hellhole relatively unscathed. That was not the case today.
His head snapped up, staring down Dr. Pilsner. His gaze was darker and colder than any Lance had ever seen. “It won’t be the first corpse I’ve had to drag around,” he declared grimly. “You’re not cutting it.”
The hard finality of his declaration prevented any of the doctors from challenging him further.
Dr. Kramer nodded with a bleak smile, her expression sorrowful and empathetic. “You’ll need a cast to keep the leg steady. I’ll put in the request now, and it might take a few minutes, but they’ll come and fix you up right away so that you may be discharged.”
Tanner gave her a curt nod and brief smile of appreciation. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Kramer.”
Dr. Pilsner stared at Dr. Kramer in consternation as if she’d betrayed him, but she didn’t acknowledge his look.
“I’ll update your chart for your next visit with your specialist. Injections might help reduce swelling over time,” Dr. Klein said. Although she disagreed with Tanner’s decision not to amputate, she respected his wishes.
“Thank you, Dr. Klein,” Tanner said with a grateful smile.
As the doctors turned to leave, Tanner called out to Dr. Pilsner. The doctor turned with a frown, expecting another confrontation. But as he took in Tanner’s defeated gaze, his expression relaxed. “Thank you,” Tanner said. The orthopedist nodded, and with a polite smile said, “I sincerely wish you well,” before walking out with the two other doctors trailing behind him.
Tanner and Lance were alone once again.
It’ll be like dragging around a corpse, according to Dr. Pilsner. Lance thought that was probably the best description of Tanner’s leg, albeit a harsh one.
It sat between them, this corpse that Tanner was living with. Lance didn’t understand what was behind Tanner’s unshakeable belief that amputation wasn’t the answer, regardless of what his doctors had recommended. There must be some hidden truth that Tanner had refused to share. Lance couldn’t reconcile what the doctors kept saying and what Tanner insisted wouldn’t happen. There was loss, certainly, Lance understood that, but there had to be more to this story. Had to be. There was some special reason he was so determined not to lose his leg. But what was it?
The silence stretched on, and Lance wasn’t sure how to break it. He knew he would have to be the first to speak, since Tanner didn’t seem inclined to say anything. And if Tanner did start talking, it would probably be some nonsense about Lance being angry with him for keeping his bum leg. But the thing was, Lance wasn’t mad about Tanner’s decision. Rather, he was scared—terrified—even. He was riddled with guilt and filled with anguish at the unfairness of it all, but he wasn’t mad. It wasn’t in him to be mad.
“I didn’t see any crutches when we moved you out of your condo. Do you still own some? Could they be at your sister’s house? I could go and get them while they set you up with a cast.” Lance concentrated on making it a casual, friendly offer, and not let his tumultuous feelings show on his face or in his voice.
“Somewhere, yeah,” Tanner said, with a nod.
“At your sister’s? Good, I’ll go and call her on the way,” Lance said, checking his pockets for his keys.
“No!” Tanner exclaimed urgently.
“Oh—” Lance said, taken aback by Tanner’s refusal. If they weren’t at Cameron’s place, then where the hell else could he look? “Okay, then where would they be? Do you have a storage unit somewhere? If you tell me where, I won’t look at anything else, I’ll just—”
“Fuck that. I meant don’t call my sister. I don’t want her to know,” Tanner said, shaking his head.
“What? Why not?”
“Because she’ll tell me I’m being stupid.”
“Well—you are being stupid,” Lance said, before he could help himself.
Whatever understanding they had reached since the doctors left the room vanished. Tanner turned away and stared fixedly at the wall. Swearing softly out of self-disgust, Lance sat down next to Tanner on the small gurney. Tanner’s posture was stiff with no trace of the affectionate man he’d held in his arms just an hour before.
“I’m sorry,” Lance said with genuine regret. “It isn’t my place to judge—or—” he shook his head. “I don’t understand, is all.”
Tanner didn’t react. He stared straight ahead as if Lance hadn’t spoken.
“Could you help me? Understand, that is. Please help me understand why it means so much to you to save your leg. I really need to understand why, sweetheart.”
Tanner’s shoulders sagged just a little. Enough to let Lance know he’d gotten through to him.
“I told you—I told you about Ahmed.” His voice quivered.
Lance nodded. It had been a difficult story for Tanner to tell, and for Lance to hear. Tanner’s wartime experiences were so much more horrifying than anything Lance could have ever imagined.
“He’d lost his leg as a kid. He had a prosthetic one that he wore that was covered by his baggy pants, so you didn’t really know it was there, but—” he took a deep breath and shook his head. “They took it away about a month into his time in the cell. Forced him to hop around or drag himself on the floor. And when—when I managed to break us out of that fucking cell—he leaned on me at first, but eventually, when they caught up to us—he tripped, and I couldn’t—” he shook his head and shut his eyes tightly to hold back his tears. “I couldn’t save him, and I left him there.” He looked up at Lance, tears rolling down his cheeks as he relived the terror of running for his life across the desert. Lance grabbed his hand, held it tightly. “Walking on a fucked-up leg hurts,” he whispered brokenly. “But at least it’s still there.”
And there it was. It wasn’t the loss of his leg that Tanner couldn’t deal with, it was the loss of autonomy. The fear that came with the loss. There was no running anywhere on a missing leg, and as far as Tanner was concerned, he was still running for his life, even though he was no longer in the desert. Time and place were irrelevant.
Lance gently wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head. Tanner briefly resisted before surrendering to Lance’s comforting hold. Tanner heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been fighting so hard and so long on his own. He settled against Lance like he’d needed to be released from carrying around this emotional burden and now, finally, was free of it.
“I get it. I understand now.” Lance’s voice soothed his soul. “I’m so sorry, baby. So fucking sorry.”
*****
Tanner felt overwhelmed by the pain, the memories, the warmth that he felt coming off Lance in waves. He was drowning in sensation. Finally, Lance loosened his hold on Tanner while still holding his hand.
“So, you won’t fight me on this?” Tanner pleaded nervously.
“No. Of course not. We’ll manage, adapt—we’ll figure it out, I promise.”
Tanner would have had to be blind to miss the glow of love and devotion in Lance’s eyes. Although he didn’t think he deserved it, he sure as hell couldn’t deny himself what Lance so freely and generously offered.
Tanner had come to terms with the fact that he loved Lance a few weeks ago. At some point between the laughs and the homecooked meals, he’d found not only a great friend and a hot lover, but also someone he couldn’t live without. Someone he loved. The words were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but doing it now felt wrong. Lance deserved to hear he was loved in a far better setting than this one. Here he sat, coming apart at the seams, wearing a crappy green hospital gown, stuck waiting to get a cast on his leg. Lance deserved a home-cooked meal and good wine when he declared his love for him. He vowed to make that happen, if it was the last thing he ever did.
“We’ll figure it out, T. I promise,” Lance said, leaning forward for a quick kiss. He’d wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled gently on his hair, as if to say, “ I’m here. ”
Without any warning, the privacy curtain was yanked back to reveal Tanner’s mother with Cameron right on her heels. Tanner yelped in surprise and Lance quickly released him.
“Oh, baby—” Louise cried sympathetically when she saw him lying there.
“You called them!” Tanner barked accusingly, smacking Lance hard in the chest.
“Ow! No! I didn’t call anyone!” He protested indignantly as he rubbed the sore spot on his chest.
“He didn’t call us. I tracked your phone, you absolute fucker!” Cameron exclaimed as she flipped him off.
“Language,” Louise warned as she approached Tanner. “What happened?” she asked, glancing back and forth between Lance and Tanner.
“Nothing. I stepped wrong and my bad leg didn’t handle it too well.” Tanner gestured casually towards his injured leg. Lance snorted at that grossly inaccurate description and set the record straight.
“He protected me from my dad. Stopped him from punching me. Tanner knocked him on his ass but broke his own leg in the process.” Lance narrowed his eyes at Tanner, daring him to deny any of it. His boyfriend rolled his eyes and gave Lance a look that said “Well, now you’ve stepped in it.”
“He what now?” Louise looked gobsmacked.
“Louise?” A man’s voice called out from down the hall.
“Oh!” Louise rushed to look around the edge of the curtain. “Over here, Dave!”
“Dave?” Tanner whispered to Cameron.
“He drove us,” she answered with a negligent shrug, still pissed off at him for not calling.
Within moments, Tanner’s semi-private room was overrun with visitors. Louise scooted closer to Tanner’s gurney to make room for Dave, Harriette, and Jeff. Jeff looked perfectly at ease, like he was accustomed to crashing family visitations in hospitals, while Harriette nervously clutched her purse and avoided all eye contact.
“Mom?” Lance said, surprised to see her there. She looked up then with a weak smile.
“We came as soon as we could,” Jeff said, speaking for both of them, knowing she was uncertain of her welcome.
“And you are?” Louise asked, glancing between Lance and the new arrivals.
“Of course, where are my manners? I’m Jeff Delaney—Lance’s stepfather,” he said, extending his hand to Louise. “This is my wife, Harriette, Lance’s mother. We were looking for Tanner’s room, and Dave here, rescued us.” Jeff was as gracious and charismatic as ever. He was the kind of guy who always fit in, immediately charming everyone.
“You said stepfather,” Louise prompted after their handshake. “So not—” She looked to Lance for clarification.
“He’s not the same guy who tried to take a swing at me,” he confirmed.
“Okay—I’m sorry, but I’m super fucking confused, and I’d really like to hear the whole story before I have a conniption fit!” Cameron threw her hands in the air and glared at Tanner in a way that threatened bodily harm.
Tanner snickered and flipped her off.
“Long story short. I’m a dumbass. Took a wrong step and broke the leg—again,” Tanner summarized, and before Lance could chime in, added, “It’s inoperable. They’re going to put my leg in a cast and send me home.”
“Send you home?” Cameron exclaimed anxiously. “And it’ll be fine? You’ll be able to walk on it and—”
“No,” Tanner replied, shaking his head. “They did all they could. I’m out of options. The bones will mend, and it’ll be what it’ll be,” Tanner informed them matter-of-factly. He braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions.
“Couldn’t they—amputate?” Harriette asked, looking guilty and confused at the same time. She didn’t approve of their relationship—nor of Tanner personally. But today she seemed at least somewhat conciliatory, probably because he’d kicked her ex-husband’s worthless ass out of her house and protected Lance in the process.
“No.”
“No, they can’t? Or no, you won’t let them?” Cameron asked, getting all wound up again.
“No, as in, it’s not an option that’s up for debate,” Lance said, interceding on Tanner’s behalf, frowning and giving her a “don’t fuck with me” look. As Cameron prepared herself to launch into attack mode, Jeff moved next to Tanner and began speaking.
“Pardon the interruption,” Jeff said, speaking directly to Tanner. “But, if you’re interested, an old buddy of mine is head of orthopedic surgery at St. John’s Hospital in Chicago. He was at my wife’s 4 th of July party—” gesturing towards Harriette. “Maybe he could take a look at your medical records before you throw in the towel on what can be done about this recent injury?”
Tanner shook his head while smiling gratefully at Jeff for his generous offer. “The director of orthopedics, Dr. Pilsner, met with me earlier and said there’s nothing to be done to repair my leg.”
“I understand,” Jeff said, and for a second it looked like he might accept that explanation. Then he shared a meaningful look with Lance, who gave him a quick nod. “The thing is, my buddy has been working magic with these new surgical techniques, and he told me himself just how many people’s limbs he saved from the chopping block. It might be nothing, but I figure—what’s the harm in trying, right? He owes me a favour anyway.”
Tanner looked at Lance for guidance, uncertain about seeing another specialist only to be disappointed all over again. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He’d mostly come to terms with his situation, and yet—
“I don’t see the harm in trying, right?” Lance shrugged and smiled at Tanner.
There was no mistaking the flicker of hope in Lance’s eyes, and it might be foolish hope, but Tanner wanted to trust it.
“Okay,” he said, with a nod. “Thank you. I guess—there’s no harm in trying.” Jeff clapped his hands together and gave Tanner a pleased smile.
“Lance, son, think you could track down one of his doctors? I’m pretty sure my buddy is going to want to see his files before he agrees to anything,” Jeff commented as he gripped Lance’s shoulder. Lance turned to Tanner, his expression clearly asking what he should do. Tanner gave a confident nod towards the curtain.
“Go—I’m not going anywhere,” he said with a smile and an encouraging wink.
With that, Lance took off, his stepfather in tow, leaving the room with two less people, but somehow it was no less crowded.
“You should have called,” Cameron complained, whirling around to face him, full of attitude, back to attack mode.
“You’re right,” he admitted, not enjoying Cameron’s chastising in front of both his mother and prospective mother-in-law. “But you shouldn’t track my phone, Cam. That’s over the top.” He was damned tired of being treated like a child. He met his sister’s angry stare with one of his own. “Besides, I would have called, but I wanted to make sure my leg was really broken before I got any of you stressed out about it,” he said, looking towards his mother to include her as well. It was a bit of a white lie, but they didn’t need to know that.
“I wasn’t even trying to track you. I just opened the app by accident, and bam—your ass was in the hospital!” Cameron replied, petulantly, sounding more like a bratty teenager than a grown woman.
“Oh, Sunshine,” his mother said, reaching for him. “I’m your mother. Everything stresses me out. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to know.” She leaned over and hugged him close. It jarred his leg a bit, and he winced, but didn’t dare complain and further upset her. When his mother pulled away, Tanner turned his attention to Harriette.
“Are Jeremy and Parker okay?” he inquired politely.
Nodding hesitantly, she replied, “They are a bit confused, angry and—sad, I suppose.” She sighed, looking vastly different from how she looked at the party. Gone were the pearls and the high society mannerisms. Without all that artifice, she was much easier to relate to.
“I should have told them the truth a long time ago,” she admitted, and though she should have confessed that to Lance and not to him, he was still glad to hear it. “They always thought it was unfair that they’d had to grow up without him. They didn’t understand. When he reached out—” she stopped, her voice starting to quiver. “They’re fine. Because of Lance—and of course, because of you, they’ll be just fine.”
Tanner didn’t know what to say to that, so he just smiled and nodded. It wasn’t exactly a welcome to the family moment, but it was better than how things had been between them.
“Isn’t it fascinating, how we can all make mistakes and learn from them?” Louise declared, out of the blue.
Tanner raised an eyebrow in his mother’s direction, uncertain where she was going with this, but convinced it would be entertaining.
“Mom?” he asked in mild warning, but she shushed him. She was looking directly at Harriette with an implacable expression. He considered intervening for a moment but decided against it. Whatever tongue-lashing his mother had planned, Harriette Kingsley certainly deserved. Tanner settled back to enjoy the show, assured that just desserts were about to be served up on a silver platter. Damn, how he wished Lance was here for this.
“Tanner should have called us. Cameron should not be tracking her brother. I should worry less. You married a terrible man yet judged your son for falling for mine—even though he’s quite an amazing young man, if I do say so myself.” Louise counted off their “mistakes” methodically on one hand while gazing steadily at Lance’s mom.
Harriette looked as if she was about to protest, her mouth hanging open slightly before she shut it again. Then the fight seemed to drain right out of her. She stepped closer to Tanner, placing her hand very gently on his arm.
“Your mother’s right,” she acknowledged with a smile that finally reached her eyes. Tanner noticed for the first time that they were the same color as Lance’s. The same gorgeous light blue of a summer sky. “My son is lucky to have you, Tanner. I was—a silly old fool not to realize that sooner.” She laughed at herself and squeezed his arm gently.
“Thank you, ma’am, but he’ll need to hear it too.”
Harriette nodded in agreement before she leaned forward and hugged him. It was quick and nowhere nearly as warm or comforting as his own mother’s embrace, but it was genuine, nonetheless. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear.
He couldn’t seem to summon a response as she pulled away, and he looked off to the side quickly, determined not to let the emotion get to him. He noticed that Dave was still there. Dave, his mother’s neighbour—maybe more, who the fuck knew—was standing quietly off to the side.
“Thank you for bringing the panic police, Dave,” he said, nodding towards his sister and mother.
“Of course. Whatever I can do to help,” he replied, and there was something about the way his eyes lingered on Louise that told Tanner his sister was right. They were definitely more than friends. He chose not to dwell on that. Instead, he turned to Cameron.
“Where’s Mark and the kids?” he asked, taking advantage of her ready willingness to talk about her brood, which would keep him entertained until Lance returned.
It was over an hour before Lance and Jeff got back. The two were talking rapidly, clearly excited about something. Lance was typing at warp speed on his phone as he made his way to Tanner’s side.
“So, here’s the scoop. Jeff talked with his buddy Dr. Carson, and he’s willing to take you on. He has an experimental procedure that entails some bone transport and grafting. It’s—I mean, it’s too complicated for me to explain, but he feels confident you’re a good candidate for it.” Lance was barely able to contain his excitement.
“And he’d be able to walk on it again?” Cameron asked.
Lance gave a firm nod. “It will take some time to heal properly, but eventually he’ll be fine to walk on it.”
“So, what’s the next step?” Tanner asked, feeling somewhat resistant to getting caught up in Lance’s excitement. There was always a chance that Dr. Carson would change his mind, saying that he was not a good candidate for this type of surgery after all. He couldn’t afford to place too much hope on this deal working out for him—not just yet.
“Well, that’s the tricky part,” Lance said with a puzzled frown, looking down at his phone again.
“Dr. Carson said the sooner you get to him, the better. Once the bones start mending, it becomes more difficult. The easiest way would be to airlift you to Chicago, but your insurance won’t cover it because it’s not an emergency, and—”
“I’ll fly you,” Dave offered, interrupting Lance. “An old friend of mine has a chopper. He can have a bird ready for take-off early tomorrow. We could be in Chicago by mid-morning.” He looked at them expectantly.
“Flying,” Tanner’s voice cracked in the middle of the word. With an awkward laugh, he looked up at Lance. “Kind of ironic—since that’s how I ended up with a fucked-up leg in the first place.”
Lance nodded sympathetically as he grabbed one of Tanner’s hands and smiled reassuringly.
“We could drive,” Lance suggested. “It’ll take much longer and since you won’t be in a cast—”
“It’ll hurt like a sonofabitch if we drive,” Tanner replied with a groan.
“Remember your list—hopes and fucking dreams, right?” he asked, reminding Tanner of the things he’d written down. He had put flying on that stupid list, now hadn’t he? What was that old saying? Be careful what you wish for!