13. Drew
Drew
S he doesn’t know it, but Leila Barrett just ruined me with those words. This girl has always been and will always be the only woman capable of bringing me to my knees.
Well, I guess Kaia will, too, as she gets older and learns the power she has over her old man.
Just one look from either of them has me wanting to make every wish come true.
It’s in this moment that I realize one hard truth: I’ll do whatever it takes to earn Leila’s heart.
“I don’t know what to say to any of that. Except things you probably aren’t ready to hear.” It’s so tempting to spill those three little words and beg her to let me love her, but I know better.
“You don’t need to say anything.”
“You still good to come to family dinner tonight? Mom’s been blowing up my phone all morning about it. She’s already made an extra-large banana pudding.”
“As long as you’re sure they aren’t disappointed in me. I’m sure your dad isn’t thrilled about the situation, either.”
“They know it’s not on you. They love you, and Dad is more than ready to meet his granddaughter.”
Leila reaches for Kaia, gently settling her into the crook of her elbow. “I need morning snuggles. Feels wrong without it,” she says, looking only slightly sorry.
“No worries. I have an appointment to get to, anyway,” I say as I notice the time on the stove.
She glances up at me worriedly.
“Just a checkup.”
Skepticism stays on her face, and I can’t fault her for it.
“Would you tell me if it was more?” she asks.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Some of my shoulder injuries didn’t heal. I’m trying to avoid more surgeries. It’s constant inflammation since I went back to riding and working out, even though the use is minimal.”
“I expect you to tell me what the doctor says,” she says, one eyebrow raised as if daring me to argue.
“Yes, ma’am. Full report coming your way.”
“Don’t be a smartass. I need to know if you’re not supposed to hold ten pounds on that side so I can kick your butt if you aren’t taking care of yourself.”
“Promise I’ll let you know what she says.” I glance at the clock. “But I do need to go before I’m late.”
She shoos me, but I still lean forward and place a kiss on Kaia’s head before doing the same to Leila. “I’ll pick you guys up at four for dinner.”
“See you then.”
As soon as my boots hit the porch, I have my phone to my ear. It rings twice before Noah answers.
“Yeah,” he says, rarely one for words.
I cut straight to the chase. “That little farmhouse I bought from you—”
He cuts me off. “Already dropped the keys and alarm code off at your loft.”
I freeze halfway into my truck. I haven’t mentioned it to him in months. Hell, I never picked up the keys because of everything that happened. “How’d you know?”
“Had a feeling. Just had cleaners go through last week, so it’s ready for move in. Pretty sure Jett stocked the fridge and cabinets yesterday, too.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Sure thing, bud,” he says before ending the call.
Shaking my head at my buddy’s intuition, I climb the rest of the way into my truck and start the engine.
One task down. A million more to go.
***
“Let me be one thousand percent crystal clear, Drew,” says Dr. Lindsey, her voice stern, just like every other time she’s given me this same spiel. “You need to get this inflammation under control. The longer you let it build, the less likely it is it’ll ever improve.”
I look away from her no-nonsense stare, instead studying the bland color scheme of the exam room.
Different shades of tan coat the walls, floor, and cabinets in soul-sucking boredom.
My newest set of X-rays are visible on the monitor next to Dr. Lindsey’s petite frame.
She’s been the only ortho in Havenwood for over a decade, and she’s damn good at her job.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to bolt at the first mention of having to see her.
She taps away on her keyboard, ignoring my bouts of panic as she tries to fill a new prescription for me. “I’m sending over 800 milligram ibuprofen tablets. Three a day for a week, one every eight hours.”
My head is shaking before she gets the third word out. Refusing to make eye contact, I say, “No. I can’t risk it.”
She looks up from her laptop, a sympathetic look already gracing her features. “Ibuprofen is safe for you to take, Drew. I wouldn’t prescribe it if I thought it would cause issues for you, but your body needs healing. It can’t heal if it keeps attacking itself.”
A groan slips out as I rub rough fingers along the back of my neck. Between the last few weeks—hell, months—and the increasing ache in my shoulder, a knot of tension has created a new home at the base my skull. “What other options do I have?” I ask even though I already know the answer.
Dr. Lindsey’s expression says it all. “You’ve exhausted every non-surgical option, Drew. You’ll be back in my operating room within the next six months if this”—she motions to my left side—“doesn’t get the rest it needs.”
“So, realistically, what are my options?” I can’t keep my frustration from seeping into my voice.
I’d finally been cleared by my physical therapist to go back to my daily activities.
Those activities include boxing and training horses.
Can I live without the boxing? Probably.
I’d miss it, but I can find other avenues for stress release.
She sighs. “Ice often, immobilize it whenever you’re out and about.
I will offer you one, and only one, cortisol shot, but you’ll have to agree to take it easy for a few days.
” She holds a hand up before I have a chance to interrupt her.
“Non-negotiable. If I do this, you ice like crazy and wear your brace for the next three days. No boxing, no training rides. If you can’t do it comfortably in a brace, you are to avoid it. Got me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I grumble as I try my best to remember where I threw my sling-like shoulder brace the other day.
Dr. Lindsey walks out the door, letting me know a tech will prep the shot.
I breathe in, trying to cleanse my body of any extra tension as the door closes while fighting the stress that builds with every passing moment.
I slip my phone from my pocket and open my messages, studying the names that sit at the top of my text app. With an unsteady hand, I tap the third name then type out a text and hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Drew: Doc says no gym or rides 3 days.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes with a reply, my brother’s name filling the notification bubble.
Declan: I’ll be out front.
Several minutes pass before a tech with graying hair and laugh lines walks in with a needle and syringe, and my insides draw up tight at the sight of it. That’s one big-ass needle.
“Hey, sweetie, my name’s Tris.” She starts simple chatter as she gathers a prep pad and Band-Aid before making her way to my injured shoulder.
“We’ve mixed the cortisone with a numbing agent, so you should feel at least a little relief pretty quick.
” She lifts the back hem of my shirt over my shoulder. “Hold this in place, hun.”
I move my right hand to hold the shirt out of her way as she swipes the alcohol wipe over my shoulder.
“You’re going to feel a pinch and maybe some burning. Deep breath.”
I’ve barely sucked in any oxygen when the needle hits home. My jaw clenches as any air that had been in my lungs rushes right back out. “Warning would’a been nice,” I grumble as I try my best to keep still. Whatever is in the syringe burns as it settles.
“If I’d warned ya, you would’ve tensed.”
“Valid point.”
A quick knock on the door sounds before Dr. Lindsey sticks her head back inside as Tris disposes of her supplies. “Do I need to call your father and tell him your orders, or can I trust you to follow directions this time?”
“I followed directions last time. I did the physical therapy. PT cleared me to go back to work.” A lot of good it did me.
Dr. Lindsey cuts her eyes at me, and I sigh, utterly defeated by a nearly year-old injury.
“Be boring for three days. Got it,” I deadpan.
Dr. Lindsey can’t quite keep the grin from tugging up her lips. “Quit being smart, boy. I’ll call your entire support system if I need to.”
“Really, I’ve got it,” I promise as I stand from the exam table. “I already texted Declan, anyway.”
“You’ve got an entire town that cares about you. And, from what I’ve heard through the gossipy grapevine, it’s grown by three recently,” she says as I walk out the door. “Don’t forget that.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I walk out the front door of the physician’s building to greet Declan on the sidewalk. I know what his text said, but I’m still surprised to find him right outside the doors waiting on a bench.
“What do you need from me, little brother?” he asks. There is no irritation from our earlier conversation, no I told you so on the shoulder problem. Just what do you need? like how it used to be between us.
My lip curls upward at the thought, but I can’t hold on to it. “I need an outlet since both of mine were just ripped away for three days, and I need something to keep me busy so I don’t annoy Leila all afternoon. You decide.”
We head across the street to the middle of the square. We’re actually standing under Declan and Kristen’s tree where their engagement photos were taken. The magnolia tree is over one hundred years old and a favorite for picnics and pictures of milestones like graduation.
“So, aside from what you texted me, what other rules did she give you?” asks my brother.
“Lots of ice and wear my brace.”
“Should we go back to your place and get it?”
I laugh, not because it’s funny but because this entire situation is a mess. “Dude, I don’t even know where it is at this point.”
Declan rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He looks around at the shops and businesses along Main Street before moving toward the ice cream shop that is next to Riley’s.
“Ice cream? Really?”