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“I was terrified. I love you so much, Coop. I don’t know what I would have done.” She buries her face into my good shoulder, giving me half a hug that’s careful to avoid the bad one.
“I love you too, Trix. I’m so glad you’re okay. Did he hurt you though? Your face?”
“Just a singe from the gun barrel. It’ll heal.”
“And Ramsey?”
“Ramsey is—”
“You’re awake!” The nurse greets loudly, and our attention is turned to her. “How are we feeling?”
I’m distracted from my conversation with Trix as the nurse puts me through my paces and calls in the doctor a few minutes later. They talk me through my injury, discuss the surgery they performed, and walk me through my recovery process as well as tell me what medications I’ll be taking in the meantime. They warn me that they’ll have to see how my wound and rehab progress goes, and they’ll adjust their recommendations based on that, but I’m very lucky to be alive and need to just focus on getting well enough to leave the hospital.
“So obviously, I’m out for the season.” I say the words out loud, but I’m hoping the doctor is going to tell me that I might make the last couple of games if I heal faster than usual. Somehow, I always want to believe I’ve got the superhuman ability to do what other people can’t.
The doctor’s mouth flatlines, and he shifts on his feet, clearing his throat before he looks at me. His brow furrows just as he opens his mouth to talk, and it’s almost like I can feel a shift in the temperature in the room. I glance at Trix, who has taken a seat on the far side of the room while the doctors work, and her eyes are on the floor, her face etched with sadness, and then I know. I know before he even says the words.
“I think we have to see how your recovery goes. But I want to be honest with you that the rehab needed is extensive—months at least, possibly a year or more, depending on your progress. It’s going to take time for you to get back to anything close to normal.”
“A year?” The word croaks out. It doesn’t even sound like my voice.
“Yes. It’s possible. I hope it won’t come to that, but the nerve damage you have is significant.”
“When you say close to normal… what are we talking?” The panic is welling in my gut, and I feel sick from it.
“Right now, you just need to focus on getting rest and healing. We can address all your concerns as time goes on, and you make progress. But the best way for you to help your future self is to focus on your recovery now.” The doctor gives me half a smile and tucks my chart back in its holder, nodding at everyone in the room before he takes off again. His words are nonsense. A slew of weasel words meant to comfort me when the underlying lack of positive affirmation on my recovery tells me I’m in fucking trouble.
“I’m glad you’re awake. Just let me know if there’s something I can do.” Lizzy smiles and pats my leg once everyone is gone.
What I need her to do, as much as I love her, is not be in this room right now. Because the panic in my gut is threatening to make me sick.
“Could you actually go get us some snacks down in the cafeteria? Some drinks and whatever sounds good that they have? I just realized I haven’t eaten, and I think your dad might want something other than hospital food.” Trix saves the fucking day like she can read my mind.
“Of course. Anything in particular you want?” Lizzy grins at me.
“Nah, up to you, kid. Whatever sounds good. You know what I like.” I grin back at her, swallowing down the bile and panic for a few more moments shouldn’t be too hard.
“I can do that.” She turns and practically bounces out of the place, happy to be able to do something after what I’m sure was hours of her just sitting around waiting and watching.
When her footsteps have disappeared down the hall, I let the tears come. My chest feels like it’s on fire, and a sob escapes before I can stop it. The bile climbs its way up my throat again, and my stomach churns like a vat of boiling acid. My heart feels like it’s going to pound out of my chest, and I’m not sure I won’t have a heart attack on top of everything else.
It takes me a moment to say the words I’m dreading.
“I’m never going to play again, am I?” I ask the ceiling.
Fingers wrap around my hand in response, and her palm covers the back of my knuckles, brushing over them gently. The warmth of her hands radiates up my arm, and she squeezes.
“We’re going to do everything we can to try to make it happen. If anyone can, it’s you.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then you’re still Cooper fucking Rawlings. You’re going to figure out whatever it is you’re doing next, and you’re going to crush it the same way you do everything else.”
I risk a glance at her, and when my eyes meet hers, my heart breaks its insidious rhythm and starts to slow. Because the way she looks at me, she believes it—every single word she’s saying. She believes in me. I squeeze her hand in return, and she tightens her own hold on me.
“It’s going to be okay, Coop. I know you must be thinking a million things right now. I know you’re in a lot of pain. But Lizzy and I are going to be here for you every step of the way. Helping you figure this all out. Helping you get better. Not just us either. Ramsey. Quentin. Madison. The whole damn team would be in this room if I let them, but I insisted they go home as loudly as Lizzy insisted to the nurses that I be allowed to stay in here. She is fierce as hell by the way. I don’t think you have anything to worry about with her and holding her own in high school, or anywhere else for that matter.” Trix laughs, and it’s infectious, making a soft roll of it escape me before I know what’s happening. She grins when she hears it despite the tears in my eyes.
“I’m glad she fought for you to stay. I need you.”
