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“Mr. Reyes?”
Mr. Reyes, wow, haven’t been that in a while.
I turn to the voice and nod. “Okay. How are you…does your head hurt?”
I sigh, and suddenly I return to the real world. “My arm,” I say. But I can’t lift it. Can’t even point to it.
“I know. It’s banged up pretty good, but we’re going to get you fixed up. Your friend said you are a violinist.”
My friend? Fuck, Fynn. “Is he—”
“He’s fine, unfortunately you took the brunt of the hit.”
I exhale and my body relaxes in the bed. I stare at the ceiling tiles and all those tiny little pencil-sized holes.
“You any good at the violin?”
I smile. “Very.”
The doctor smiles back at me.
“Do you want me to call him?” Fynn asks.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t want him to worry.”
“He’s gonna worry more when he hears this on the news and not from you.”
Fynn’s right. But I don’t really know anything yet. “Let’s wait until we get a definitive answer. Plus, he has a game. He’s on the ice right now.”
Fynn grabs the remote and tries to find the game. He can only find New York teams playing and they aren’t playing Colorado. We settle on a game, anyway. My eyes are just beginning to drift closed when the surgeon comes in.
“Mr. Reyes,” he sticks out his hand and I shake it. “It’s great to meet you. Sorry it has to be like this, but I love your music.”
I nod and glance at my left arm and hand now encased in foam and cloth.
“Don’t worry, I will get you fixed up. You’ll be playing again in no time.” He places the x-rays on the screen next to the bed and moves it toward me, pointing out the crack in my wrist and the broken ring finger.
“It will take a couple of surgeries…” the doctor is saying. “And your finger will be a bit bent from now on, but fully functional. Good thing you didn’t have a wedding ring on.” He quips….
Wedding ring?
“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have the need for one of those.”
“Very.”
Fynn eyes me and I shrug.
“We’re going to prep you for surgery right away, okay?”
“Sure,” I nod. “Let’s get it done.”
Chapter thirty-three
My number is not the one he is used to seeing on his phone, so that is going to be a red flag.
“Fynn, what’s wrong?”
“Can’t I just be calling to say good game?”
