25. Declan #2
My injured leg is noticeably smaller and lighter than my healthy one.
“Freedom,” Andrew pronounces. “Now, let’s get a solid look at how your healing has progressed.”
He checks the incision and then orders for the portable X-ray to be wheeled in.
X-rays are taken and Andrew reviews them with us.
“Everything looks good,” he says. “Let’s get you into a boot.”
He leaves me and Winona alone in the room to wait for my trainer.
“Nothing sexier than a man with two different-sized legs,” I say.
“It’s honestly the dry, flaky skin that does it for me,” Winona says.
I laugh and our eyes catch and hold. “You’re it for me, Winona.”
“Because I like a man with scales?” she teases.
“Because you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met. You’re special.”
“Lots of people are special, Declan.”
She doesn’t get it. But I’m going to tell her until she does.
“Not like you.”
“Well, you’re pretty special too,” she says. “Not because you’re a professional athlete, either.”
Lynn comes in before I can respond, pushing a cart with a CAM boot on it. She walks me and Winona through the steps of putting it on and adjusting the air bladders. Then she adjusts my crutches and has me carefully walk a few steps.
Then I’m taken to PT to do some range of motion and basic gait training.
“It’s strange,” I say to no one in particular. “I’m used to running and being physical without much thought. Now I feel like I have to tell my ankle to remember how to walk.”
“That’s totally normal,” our physical therapist tells me. “It passes pretty quickly, but these first few steps are always an adjustment. We’ll build it up over time. Believe it or not, if all goes well, you’ll be back to some light running in a month.”
After a short time with the physical therapist, they send me home. No workout. No meetings. Just my new boot and an order to return tomorrow for my workout, rehab and meetings. I’m still on crutches for another week or so.
On the drive home, Winona suggests we get ice cream to celebrate.
“It’s only eight thirty in the morning,” I remind her.
She looks at me like I’m the crazy one and says, “I mean, I didn’t know ice cream had a time of day that was considered unacceptable, but … okay. Donuts, then?”
“Sounds good,” I agree.
She drives us to Baker From Another Mother.
On the way, I tell her, “It’s going to get busy for a while. Will you hang in through this part of my season?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”
We grab donuts and everyone in the bakery congratulates me on getting the cast off. Then Winona drops me off at my house so she can go to see Old Man Calhoun.
Once I’m inside, I call my parents to update them on what happened at my appointment.
Dad answers his cell on the first ring. “Declan.”
“Hey, Dad. Just got back from my cast removal.”
“And?”
“Everything’s going well. They put a boot on. Started me walking.”
“Good. Good.” He pauses and then says, “Your mom’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”
I fill her in on what I just told my dad.
I can hear her smile through the phone. “Oh, that’s such good news, Declan.”
“What’s the timeline on your return?” Dad asks.
“They can’t be definitive, but they think I’ll be running in a month. I’ll be in the boot four to five weeks. They’re looking at five to be safe.”
“Do you want a second opinion? I could send someone up there,” Dad offers.
“I trust this team.”
“Okay.”
“I might make it back to practice toward the end of December, and I could even play the last game of the season, but it’s all contingent on my healing and rehab.”
“Do your part.”
“I always do.”
He doesn’t acknowledge that, but I know he knows I give one hundred and ten percent to everything.
“I was going to call you today, Declan,” Mom says. “I’m making Thanksgiving plans. We’d love to have you join us this year since you’re not playing.”
I hadn’t given Thanksgiving much thought, but now that they’re bringing it up, I want to spend it with Winona.
“I might stay here and join Maeve and Patrick.”
“We understand them staying in Waterford, Declan,” Dad says. “They have their own families now. Your mother is planning her annual party. There will be plenty of people who want to see you.”
It’s not posed as a question or an option.
“People like Snow, Diamond and Chantal?” I ask.
Dad’s voice is firm. “People like the influential people in Nashville. And maybe some young women, yes. Is it so bad for your mom to want to see you find someone to share your life with? Someone suitable?”
I’m inches away from reminding them that I’m perfectly capable of finding someone to share my life with, but that would mean discussing Winona.
I need to man up and tell them.
But not over the phone.
And not when she’s with me.
Maybe I should go to Nashville for Thanksgiving. It would give me an opportunity to talk to my parents alone—they could warm up to the idea when Winona’s not around to hear their almost certain objections.
But I won’t have many Thanksgivings in the years to come where I’m not playing. This is my first Thanksgiving with Winona. I want to spend it with her.
I’ll have to find another time to break the news to my parents—and it needs to be soon.