Instead, he’s already pushing me away. I feel it.
And I don’t know what to do.
CHAPTER 28
I ride in the ambulance with him. I clutch his hand in mine. I mutter nonsense about how everything’s going to be okay. I don’t know if it’ll be okay. We don’t know the full extent of his injury yet, and I certainly don’t know how he’s going to deal with it—emotionally or physically. I don’t know what it means for him...for us.
“What’s the score?” he asks.
I chuckle. I can’t help but think it’s so him to want to make sure his teammates are okay as he’s on his way to the hospital to assess whether he’ll be out nine months or forever. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see about a million missed messages and calls. I’ll get to them when I get to them.
I search for the score. “The Aces have the lead. Seventeen to ten at halftime.”
He doesn’t react, and I hate how he’s a total blank slate. He’s always been private, and he’s always done a pretty good job of hiding how he’s really feeling, but it’s okay to smile when your team is winning. Unless, I guess, you’re the injured player on the way to the hospital who can’t contribute to that win. The one who can’t celebrate that win.
Tears pinch behind my eyes again.
When we get to the hospital, we’re checked in through the emergency room. I sit and wait on a chair in a little room with a curtain while he’s carted off for his MRI. It’s only then I pull out my phone and check my messages.
I see Nicki’s first.
Nicki: What’s going on? Is he okay?
Me: He’s okay. We just got to the hospital. We’ll know more after the MRI.
I check the ones from my mom next.
Mom: We’d love to visit with you two.
Mom: We just saw the hit. Is he okay? It looks bad.
I don’t have the energy to come up with something new to tell her, so I just copy the same message I sent to Nicki. Those are the only people in my circle who really need to know what’s going on.
I’m so new at this that I don’t even know my place yet. I assume I shouldn’t talk to the press...yet I’m more than his wife. I’m his publicist, and handling the press is sort of my job when it comes to him.
I think of all the times Luke had ESPN on to catch the highlights. Any time someone was hurt in virtually any sport, it was the coach’s press conference where we learned more. Either there was no new information or the coach gave some indication of how severe the injury is.
Luke returns from the MRI. He puts the game on the television as we wait on the results. He’s silent as he stares blankly at the screen.
The doctor comes in with a clipboard a while later. “The good news is that it doesn’t look like there’s any nerve damage,” he begins. “The bad news is that you’re going to need an open reduction to reset the bone.”
“What’s open reduction?” Luke grunts.
“When you have a dislocated knee, there are two ways to put it back into place. Closed reduction means without surgery where we do what we can to shift it back into place. Open reduction means surgery. You’ve also torn your ACL, which will require surgery as well. I can get you scheduled for surgery this week or you can go home and have it done there.”
“I’d like to go home so our team doctors can give me a second opinion.”
“Of course,” the doctor says. “I understand. But it’s a cut and dry injury, Mr. Dalton. I guarantee you’ll hear the same answer from your doctors back home.”
“Still,” Luke says.
The doctor nods. “I assume your team heads home tomorrow?”
Luke nods.
“We’ll fit you for a knee brace and crutches so you can travel back with them. No weight whatsoever on your knee until you check in with your doctors back home. Don’t let it go untreated for too long or you risk nerve damage.”
“Thanks,” Luke mutters. I grab his hand as the doctor walks out.
“You sure you want to go home instead of just getting the surgery done as soon as possible?” I ask.
“They’ll have me cut open Monday night and I’ll be back home by Wednesday,” he says. He doesn’t look at me as he says it. Instead, his eyes are back on the television screen. The news is on now. The game is over, and we’re watching a story about one of the highways here in Denver.
I don’t even know what to say to that. I’d rather see him just get it done instead of risking it by going home with the team, but I get him wanting to be back home for it. He trusts the team doctors—after all, they’ve been his doctors for nearly the last decade.
The curtain opens, and a head appears there. “Can I come in?”
Luke glances at the doorway, and then he shuts off the television as he stares across the small space at his brother.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Came to check on my little brother.” Jack steps fully into the room and slides the curtain closed. “You okay?”
I don’t know why seeing him here makes the heat press behind my eyes again. Maybe it took this terrible turn of events for Luke to smooth things over with his family. Or maybe not. I don’t even know if that’s something he wants.
“Dislocated knee and torn ACL,” Luke says flatly.
“Fuck,” Jack mutters. “Not again.”
Luke blows out a breath. “Yeah. Again.” His eyes turn red as he fights to keep his emotions away, and then he bites his lip.
“I was kidding when I threatened you with Hammond. I had no idea he’d really take a dirty hit on you. He’ll get a fine,” Jack says. He walks to the foot of the bed.
“He’ll get a fine and I’m out for the season. My entire career might be over. But at least he’ll get a fine.” Luke presses his palms to his eyes, and I’m shocked he’s showing such vulnerability in front of his brother.
“It’ll be okay, Luke,” Jack says softly. Soothingly. In a tone I’ve never heard out of him before, least of all when it comes to his brother. “Better your knee than your neck, right?”
“It’s over either way.”
“Come on, man,” Jack says, gripping the foot of the bed with both hands. I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking he may not have too many years left, either. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’ve got your life. You’ve got a woman who loves you. Life will move on whether or not you get to play again, and you got nine solid years out of the league. That’s way more than most. You and I both know NFL stands for Not For Long.”
Luke sniffs in response, and I squeeze his hand. “He’s right that you’ve got a woman who loves you,” I say. “I’m right here, whatever you need. Through all of this.” My tone is fierce.
“You just can’t let what happened the last time you tore your ACL happen again,” Jack says, still gripping the footboard.
“What happened the last time?” I ask.
The brothers lock eyes for a beat, and some silent communication passes between them before they both turn their eyes back to me.
Jack’s expression is riddled with something resembling guilt. Maybe it’s guilt for letting something slip just now in front of me...or maybe it’s more. I get the feeling it’s more. Much, much more.