“Promise?” He bites his bottom lip to stop his cry.
I pull our hands to my face and kiss his knuckles. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 15
JENSEN
I’min a room full of people talking and planning, yet I don’t hear a single word. Caitlin runs my leg through a few tests, and her face shows her every thought.
But I don’t need her to confirm it. I already know that my ACL is good as gone. I recognize the sensations and pain, the feeling of absolute weakness in my knee, like it’s just there for decoration and not for use. The only thing I don’t know is if my meniscus is torn along with it.
I’m already barely hanging on as it is, but I don’t know what I’d be doing if it wasn’t for Lainey at my side, anchoring me to reality, her hand in mine.
Rolling my head, I look to her for the strength I’m lacking. Part of me feels pathetic that I can’t just get through this on my own, that I need her to help me. Maybe I’m so fucking weak that I shouldn’t even go through this process again at all.
Wouldn’t Lainey’s life be easier if I left her alone completely?
Taking a shaky breath, I force those dark thoughts away, knowing that I don’t really want to do that. It’s my mind working against me, like it always has, but I can’t let it take me under completely. I won’t.
In the moments where it seems too dark around me, I’ll look to the brightest light I know for strength until I’m strong enough to be my own savior again.
How can one incident bring me back to a place I thought was gone for good? Just like that, it’s like I’m sealed inside my mind again, trapped with my own demons.
Lainey’s looking at me like she somehow reads my thoughts, squeezing my hand tighter as each haunting one passes through.
Her lips part, and she says something, but I don’t hear a word. In fact, I don’t really hear anything, just noise filling the background as the world moves slowly around me.
I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to do this. I just want everything to go back to normal before it all happened. I just want …
I barely recognize the sound of my own voice as I whisper to Lainey, “I want to go home.”
She wets her lips with teary eyes and slowly nods. “Soon. We need to know the plan first, okay?”
Caitlin starts talking to her, and I tune everything back out, watching Lainey nod as she hangs on to every word, typing into the notes of her phone.
Someone walks into the room, carrying a bag of clothes and some belongings, which I quickly realize are mine. It’s the lounge set and sneakers that I keep in my cubby. My phone, keys, and wallet.
He hands them off to Caitlin, who hands me the clothes, setting the rest of the items on the desk.
“We’ll step out for a moment if you want to do your best to change without putting any weight on your knee. It’ll help, using one of these chairs.”
She pushes one over before disappearing out of the room, Lainey and some other staff member following her out.
Groaning, I slide off of the exam table onto my right leg. I start ripping my gear off of me before slipping on the other clothes.
“You’re good,” I call out loudly, and a moment later, everyone comes back in.
Time seems to move weirdly. I feel like it’s been hours since I was on the ice, but at the same time, I know that it’s been maybe fifteen minutes. It’s like I blink, and life is passing by, my brain in the passenger seat of my body with no idea who’s in control.
The next thing I know, I’m sitting up, my body carrying me through the motions as Caitlin helps me stand on my right leg, my left already wrapped with an ice pack secured around my knee. She fits me for a pair of crutches, adjusting their height until they’re perfect.
Everyone’s words go in one ear and out the other, and I just hope that my brain can hold onto them long enough for me to recall later. If not, I know that at least Lainey’s got me.
Caitlin has me crutch to the door to make sure they’re hitting me in the right spots, which they are.
It’s my own fucking fault I’m here in the first place. All because I was an idiot who was scared of this very thing happening.
“Fuck!” I scream, smacking my palm on the wall by the doorframe, my sadness morphing into a fresh wave of anger.
