Chapter 31 #2
And now, Dad’s probably worried. Robbie will be cracking dumb jokes to soften the mood. Gemma won’t want to leave until I get back and she knows I’m okay.
And Mom …
She’ll be pleased she got a reaction out of me.
She wins.
“I can’t go back,” I say. “I’m too ashamed.”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Henry says.
Beep, beep!
Tony’s here.
Dad must’ve sent him to retrieve me. And it only makes me feel worse.
Tony slides down the passenger window.
“Tranquila, mi nina, que la llevo al club por un helado,” he says. “Ahorita se le pasa.”1
I laugh and cry at the same time.
“No quiero!”2 I shout back in a playful tone, pretending I’m a five-year-old throwing a tantrum. One who, deep down, just wants to be held and pampered. One who’s been trying to fill the void her mom’s left inside her for as long as she can remember.
He rumbles a laugh.
“Anda, súbete o me corre tu papá.”3
“Ya quisieras retirarte,”4 I say with a watery laugh, grabbing Henry’s hand as we head toward the SUV.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer. It’s casual, natural, like he’s been doing since we came back from Mexico.
Tony’s eyebrow lifts quizzically.
Uh-oh.
I think about letting go of Henry’s hand, but it’s too late.
“No les digas a mis papás, Tony,” I whisper as Henry opens the door for me. “Porfa.”5
Tony zips his mouth theatrically and winks at us.
“Ya súbanse, pues.”6
Tony drives us inside the country club, forces me to get a rainbow-flavored Blue Bell ice cream cup from the snack shop, and leaves us be.
Henry and I stroll around the gardens enjoying our ice cream until we reach the tennis courts, where we catch two of Henry’s old friends from school playing a friendly match. Jayden and Miles.
We walk over to them. Looks like they’re wrapping up.
When they see us, Jayden stops the match.
“Hey!” Miles complains. “I was winning!”
Jayden rolls his eyes. “That’s because your math is as terrible as your backhand.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Miles retorts. “I’ll let my terrible backhand do the real damage next round.”
Jayden ignores him and comes over to greet us. Miles trails after him.
“How about a private mixed doubles afterparty?” Miles says, biting his tongue in a bold, taunting way.
I gasp, but it turns into a laugh. I’d already forgotten about that stupid headline.
“Miles, you son of a—”
“Ohhh, we’d love to,” Henry cuts me off, flashing a wicked smile as he picks up one of the rackets and expertly twirls it in his hand.
I’m drooling.
“So?” Jayden beams at me. “You up for a match?”
“Why the hell not.”
“Let me find two more rackets,” Miles says over his shoulder, scurrying away.
I lean closer to Henry while Jayden fusses with his shoelaces.
“Are you okay to play?” I whisper. “Your shoulder …”
“It’s fine,” he says quickly, flashing one of those easy smiles that restarts my heart. “Going against these two will be a walk in the park.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jayden says, lifting his hands. “We actually want to play, dude. I was thinking Belén and me against you and Miles.”
“Dibs on Belén!” Miles shouts, hurrying back with two more rackets.
Henry rolls his eyes with a resigned little shake of his head.
“Whatever,” Jayden says, grabbing a racket. “You need her more than I do. Henry is a beast, remember?”
We all grab rackets and take our place on our side of the court.
Miles tosses me two balls, beaming.
“Let me guess. You want me to serve?”
“Please do, Your Grace,” he says with an exaggerated bow as he takes his spot.
I laugh. These guys are ridiculous. And fun.
This unexpected casual match is doing wonders for my state of mind, helping me forget about what happened earlier at home.
“Wuss!” Jayden shouts across the net. “Henry is keeping score, by the way!”
“By all means!” Henry calls back, smirking.
I do a quick NEHBL and serve to shut them up, or we’ll be standing here all day watching them argue.
The ball whizzes past Jayden’s head, missing him by a few inches.
“Oh, shit!” he yelps.
“Are you done?” I shout, adjusting the strings of my borrowed racket. “Or can we start now?”
Henry rumbles a low, proud laugh.
“Can I switch sides with you, man?” Jayden calls out to Henry. “I’m not trying to get murdered out here.”
They switch.
I NEHBL and serve again. Henry responds with a clean forehand, sending the ball to Miles’ side with surgical force, speed, and precision.
Miles fails to keep up with it.
We volley for a while, slipping into a fun, easy rhythm. But I can tell Henry’s getting more competitive.
Soon, it’s just him and me trading serves and sharp returns while Jayden and Miles do their best to stay out of the way.
It’s Henry’s turn to serve–or Miles’, but he yielded the honors to him because Henry looks way too eager to pass it up.
“Take it easy!” I call out, worried he’s pushing himself too hard.
I know he loves the game. It’s been a while since he’s held a racket for anything other than feeding me slow balls during drills. But he needs to dial it back.
“Match point!” Henry shouts with a cocky laugh.
He serves. It’s an ace. They win.
Or he does.
Henry drops the racket and lets out a sharp breath, falling to one knee. He grabs his shoulder with his left hand and stares off into the horizon.
“Henry?” I panic, dashing toward him. “Jayden, get Dr. Lee!”
Jayden bolts toward the clubhouse, and Miles drops to his knees in front of Henry, scanning him anxiously. I don’t know if Henry’s told them about his injury. My guess is he didn’t.
I shouldn’t have let him play. I shouldn’t have let him push himself this hard.
“Henry,” I whisper, brushing the damp hair off his sweaty forehead. He’s squirming on the floor, and his face is twisted in unmistakable pain. “I shouldn’t have let you play.”
“Not … your fault,” he grits out, pressing his eyes shut and dragging a deep breath through his nose.
“What hurts?” Miles asks, his face tight with worry. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“His shoulder,” I say. “It’s an old injury.”
“No ambulance.” Henry shakes his head like being wheeled out into an ambulance would be a complete nightmare. Like it might be triggering memories he doesn’t want to relive. “Please, please, please.”
“Shhh, it’s okay.” I press my hand to his chest and rub it in circles. “No one’s calling an ambulance.”
Thankfully, Dr. Lee has arrived. He kneels beside Henry and sets the kit down.
“Well, well. I leave you unsupervised for one friendly match, and you go full gladiator on me?”
Henry lets out a shaky laugh that quickly turns into a grimace.
Dr. Lee’s tone softens. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
He glances at me with a raised brow. “Who let him play like he’s got something to prove?”
“I tried,” I mumble.
Dr. Lee hums. “You two are a dangerous combo.”
Gently and expertly, he begins assessing the damage.
“No ambulance,” Henry repeats, but it sounds like a warning this time, like he won’t forgive me if I ignore his request.
I grab his hand and thread my fingers with his, giving it a little squeeze.
I’m right here with you.
I don’t care what anyone here thinks of it.
“Deep breaths, kid,” Dr. Lee says. “No ambulance. No dramatic exits. Just you and me.”
Dr. Lee rolls up his sleeves and shifts to Henry’s right side, resting a steady hand near the injured shoulder. “Okay. Let’s test your range of motion. I’ll lift slowly. Don’t fight me. Just tell me when the pain kicks in.”
Henry nods through gritted teeth.
Dr. Lee gently takes his arm and raises it upward a few degrees. Henry hisses, sharp and involuntary, his body going rigid.
“That soon?” Dr. Lee murmurs, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Yeah,” Henry pants, his voice thin. “That’s—don’t—”
Dr. Lee eases off, pressing his palm to Henry’s shoulder to stabilize him. “Okay. Okay. No more lifting. Let’s try rotation.”
He angles Henry’s arm slightly outward, testing the joint with subtle, careful movements. Henry groans this time, his jaw clenched tight, his forehead beading with sweat.
“It’s spasming,” Dr. Lee mutters. “You’ve got major inflammation going on. And this wasn’t a fresh injury, was it?”
Henry doesn’t answer right away. He’s breathing heavily, his head pressed back against the court like he’s trying to disappear into the pavement.
“No,” I answer for him, my voice tight. “It happened a while back. He’s been managing it. Sort of.”
“Which means this was waiting to happen,” Dr. Lee replies, already reaching for a cold pack from the kit. He wraps it swiftly in a cloth and presses it to Henry’s shoulder. “This’ll help with the swelling. For now. But we need imaging. X-rays at the very least. MRI if there’s tearing.”
Henry closes his eyes, wincing again as the cold sinks into the joint.
“Can’t you just give me something for the pain?” he mutters.
Dr. Lee nods, pulling out a small syringe. “I’ll inject a local anesthetic. It won’t fix the damage, but it’ll dull the discomfort long enough to get you upright and into a car.”
Henry exhales shakily. “That’s all I need.”
“God, Henry,” I whisper, crouching closer. “Why didn’t you stop?”
He doesn’t open his eyes. “Because I wanted to win.”
“Necio.”
“I won’t … fight you on that one. Not today.”
“You’re going to the hospital.” I drop his hand gently and stand up. “End of discussion.”
“Bells …”
“Sorry. You don’t get to argue. I’m calling Tony to get the car ready.”
I step away to pull out my phone and call him. My fingers are shaking, but I manage it. The moment I hang up, I start another call.
“D-dad?” My voice cracks. “Henry got injured playing tennis just now. It’s bad. We’re taking him to the hospital.”
1 “It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ll take you to the club for some ice cream. You’ll be fine in a bit.”
2 I don’t want to!
3 Come on, get in or your dad will fire me.
4 You wish you could retire already.
5 Don’t tell my dad, Tony. Please.
6 Get in, then.