Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
RILEY
The medics call an ambulance and allow me to ride with Nat to the hospital.
Watching him clasp his leg in pain and writhing on the stretcher shreds my heart completely. He looks like someone in the throes of agony.
Teeth gritted.
Face turning a bright shade of red.
He’s struggling not to scream, but I can tell every time his nostrils flare and his mouth tightens that he’s getting closer to letting one loose.
“Can’t you do something?” I snap at the paramedic. “He’s in so much pain.”
“I’m… okay.”
I sob. “Liar.”
Nat’s face is so contorted in pain that it’s impossible not to cry. If I could, I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat. I would endure a thousand years of pain than watch him helplessly like this.
We arrive at the hospital and Nat is rushed to the emergency room.
“Ma’am, please wait in the hallway,” a nurse directs me.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps pounding.
April, May and Rebel appear, followed closely by Renthrow, Kinsey, McLanely and Max.
The moment I see my friends, I lose it.
Tears start streaming down my face.
May, Rebel, and April enclose me in a hug, soothing my back and stroking my hair. It brings little comfort.
Guilt attacks me from all sides.
I should have tried harder to get Nat to the hospital. I should have told someone. Done something. Maybe then he would have been spared this suffering.
“It’s not your fault,” Cordelia says from the phone screen that Renthrow holds up to me. “It’s not your fault, Riley.”
“It’s Theilan’s,” McLanely growls. His voice is thick with disgust.
“I have no idea what got into that kid,” Renthrow grumbles. “He was always mischievous, but I didn’t think he’d go this low. And what did Campbell ever do to him?”
“He replaced him,” Max says. “Campbell took Theilan’s place on the ice and rather than come after me, the man responsible for all this, he took it out on someone innocent.”
The hallway falls into tense silence.
Chance McLanely is flicking his fidget spinner anxiously.
Kinsey is pacing up and down.
Renthrow is massaging his head.
Max is staring at the ceiling as if he’s rethinking all his life’s choices.
Nat wouldn’t want his teammates beating themselves up about this. He wouldn’t want me to beat myself up either.
I square my shoulders and face the giant athletes. “It wasn’t Theilan.”
All the men turn to look at me.
“Nat has been having pain in his leg for a while now.”
“What?” Chance McLanely stares at me with eyes narrowed.
Max frowns and steps forward. “What do you mean?”
At that moment, a nurse strides into the hallway. Expression stern, she glances around. “Which one of you is Riley Carter?”
“That’s me.” I raise a hand and scramble in front of her.
“The patient is asking for you.”
As we make our way to an elevator, I ply the nurse with questions. “What happened to Nat? What did the doctors say? Why is it taking so long?”
“They took him for some tests, ma’am. He requested that you be there for the consult.”
I hold my breath until we arrive in the doctor’s office where Nat is waiting alone.
He’s wearing a hospital gown and his leg is slightly raised. I see the wicked scar and tattoo that weaves around it for the first time. My eyelashes start fluttering in an attempt to keep the tears back.
“Hey, Riles.” Nat’s face is pale, but at least he doesn’t seem to be in extreme pain anymore. He flashes me a crooked grin.
“Nat.” Falling into the seat next to him, I croak, “Are you okay?”
“Better now. The doctors gave me a pain killer. Not sure how long it’s going to last, but I’m grateful for it.”
“Do you know how scared I was? I hated seeing you like that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Taking my hand in his, Nat stares into my eyes. “Like I told you in my text, Max and the team were counting on me, and I couldn’t let them down. But now…”
“But now?”
Nat pushes one of my tendrils behind my ear. “Now, I’m grounding this plane myself. No more hockey for me, Riles. I’m coming to you.”
I sniff. “You had to be shipped to the hospital in an ambulance. I don’t know if that counts as voluntarily coming to me, Nat.”
He pouts. “I was planning on going to the hospital with you after the game. The timeline just kicked up a notch.”
I shake my head. “Easy to say now.”
“Fair enough.” He nudges my chin up. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Riles.”
“Do you really think this is the end of your hockey career?” I whisper, glancing at his leg.
Nat’s smile fades and he admits in a low voice, “Yeah. I do.”
“But we don’t know what the doctors will say yet. Maybe they can fix it. They already did a miracle once.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t think I qualify for the ‘unlimited miracles’ package. I got one miracle in my lifetime and that’s more than I could ask for.”
“Nat…”
“Come to think of it...” He grazes his thumb over my cheek. “I’m one of the lucky ones. I actually got two miracles.” He smiles. “The first was walking away from that accident mostly intact and getting the chance to play hockey again. The second…”
“Surviving the game tonight?”
He shakes his head. “The second is that I get the chance to love you.”
I purse my lips, feeling another onslaught of tears. Turning my face away, I rub my nose. “Ugh, I hate crying.”
Nat laughs.
At that moment, the door opens and the doctor walks in.
I swing around to face the doctor’s desk and sit upright.
Bile settles in my throat.
My breathing comes in spurts.
I’m more nervous than Nat, who’s staring into the doctor’s face with a resigned calm. He senses my anxiety and gives me an understanding nod as if to say ‘it’s okay, Riles’.
But it’s not okay.
It really isn’t.
More than anything, I want Nat to play the game he loves. If there’s even a possibility…
“Mr. Campbell.” The doctor’s face is sober.
Bad sign.
Really bad sign.
“Doctor,” Nat says, his voice serious. “What’s the verdict?”
My leg starts quivering.
Nat places his hand on my knee and turns to me with another reassuring smile.
I try.
I do.
It’s not working.
I squeeze Nat’s fingers hard enough that they could pop right off his hand.
“According to your medical records,” he flips open a folder, “you sustained a traumatic fracture to your left leg where your bone shattered into multiple fragments.”
I wince as my skin crawls.
“Right, they fastened my leg back together with titanium rods and locking screws,” Nat says.
The doctor puts an X-ray up and it reveals what I can only assume is Nat’s foot. “I found the cause of the pain that brought you to the emergency room.”
“Will you have to do surgery on my leg again?” Nat asks in a clear tone.
How is he breathing so evenly? I’m about to hyperventilate.
“Based on the imaging—”
I raise a hand. “Wait.”
Both Nat and the doctor look at me.
I press a hand to my chest and feel my heart slamming against my fingertips. “I just need a moment.”
Nat strokes my shoulder. “Take deep breaths, Riles.”
I feel like an idiot. Nat is the one who’s about to lose his dream and yet he’s turning around and comforting me.
I pull myself together with a few deep breaths.
“Are you okay now?” Nat stares into my eyes, searching for an answer in their depths.
I nod.
“Alright then.” The doctor points to a section of Nat’s leg. “Imaging suggests a hardware deformity…”
My heart gets torn from my chest.
Oh no.
Nat releases a long sigh. “I figured as much.”
“… at the screw-rod interface. I suggest a minimally invasive debridement of the metallic burr and surrounding fibrotic tissue.”
My heart is roaring in my ears, so it takes a minute for the doctor’s words to soak in.
Nat and I both jolt forward.
“Did you just say…”
“Minimally invasive?” I gasp.
Nat’s eyebrows pull together. “I-I don’t understand.”
“In plain terms, Mr. Campbell’s hardware is stable, but over time, probably from constant impact from training, a splinter formed on the metal. And the more he continued to function with the splinter, the more it grated against the soft tissue.”
Nat lets out a relieved laugh. “That’s why the pain was gradual at first and then got so bad, so quickly.”
“Are you saying that this is easy to fix?”
“It’s an outpatient procedure. We’re going to make a small incision, find the rough spot on the metal and smooth it down so it’s no longer scraping the tissue. After the procedure, the pain should dramatically decrease.”
I scoot to the edge of my seat. “So… Nat can continue playing hockey?”
“He’ll need to stay off his feet and avoid strenuous activity for ten to fourteen days, but after that…” The doctor nods.
I hide my face in my hands, shaking all over.
Nat pulls his lips into his mouth and tilts his head to the ceiling, blinking rapidly.
I collect myself first and wrap him in a hug. “Congratulations, Nat. I guess heaven is having a two-for-one miracle sale.”