She blows out a breath. “Your father’s physical therapist sent in the paperwork.”
My hand stills on the mug. “For the trial?”
“Mmm.” She hums. “The regenerative nerve one. The fancy one overseas. We did the application, the medical records, everything. It’s in.”
A jolt of hope hits, sharp and wild. “That’s good, right? That’s… great.”
“It is,” she says. “But now we wait. It could be years before they even look at it. And it’s expensive, Scottie. Even if somehow he gets accepted, we have no business messing with that kind of money.”
“Let me worry about the money,” I say.
“I feel so guilty for putting this on you. You send us enough. You have a life of your own. Your own wife and the family you’re going to build with her. That should be your most important responsibility now.”
I wipe my hand over my face. “Ma—I can do both. I make plenty of money. And Katerina… the family thing…” I can’t explain to my mother that a family with my wife isn’t exactly a sure thing. Not until I know if Kat wants it with me. “It’s still a way off for us. She just got into the PNB, and I know she has career goals she wants to accomplish.” Not that we’ve ever discussed having kids. In fact, I don’t even know if she wants any. This is still a temporary arrangement for now. Even if nothing about us feels temporary to me.
“I just wanted you to know,” she cuts in, softer. “In case… I don’t know. In case he pretends it doesn’t matter. You know how proud he is. He’ll act like he doesn’t care if it never happens, but I see him when he thinks no one’s looking.”
Something in my chest twists.
Images flash—my dad in his chair, watching the games on TV. His hands grip the armrests when a player takes a hit. The way his eyes follow me when I’m home, like he’s memorizing how I move. He was an all-star athlete in high school and had a full ride to college, so to see him not even get to stand out of his wheelchair to chase my mom around the kitchen the way he did when we were kids, before the accident… It’s still a hard pill to swallow.
“He deserves a shot,” I say quietly. “If there’s even a chance, we take it.”
She goes quiet for a moment.
“You sound like your father,” she says finally. “Stubborn.”
“Pretty sure I sound like you,” I say, pouring coffee into a mug. “Persistent.”
That earns me a laugh. “Maybe that too.”
“When you hear anything, you call me,” I tell her. “The money is the easy part… we just need them to pick him.”
She exhales, shaky. “You always were determined.”
“Comes with the job description,” I say lightly. “I’m not letting this go. Not for him.”
There’s another pause, and when she speaks next, her voice drops into that tone that makes me want to hang up on instinct.
“How’s Katerina?” she asks.
I lean back against the counter, staring toward the hallway where my wife is asleep in my bed.
“She’s… good,” I say. “Busy. Rehearsals non-stop. She’s got a new production coming up.”
“And you?”
I hesitate. “Also busy.”
“Mmhmm.” She doesn’t buy it. Of course she doesn’t. “You sounded happy yesterday. Different.”
“Different how?” I ask, knowing that’s a mistake.
“Like you did in high school when you made the team,” she says. “Or the day you told us you’d been drafted. Or when you first moved into your place in Seattle. Like you’ve got something that’s yours.”
My throat goes tight.
“Maybe I do,” I say before I can stop myself.
