“Surviving the game tonight?”
He shakes his head. “The second is that I get the chance to love you.”
I purse my lips, feeling another onslaught of tears. Turning my face away, I rub my nose. “Ugh, I hate crying.”
Nat laughs.
At that moment, the door opens and the doctor walks in.
I swing around to face the doctor’s desk and sit upright.
Bile settles in my throat.
My breathing comes in spurts.
I’m more nervous than Nat, who’s staring into the doctor’s face with a resigned calm. He senses my anxiety and gives me an understanding nod as if to say ‘it’s okay, Riles’.
But it’s not okay.
It really isn’t.
More than anything, I want Nat to play the game he loves. If there’s even a possibility…
“Mr. Campbell.” The doctor’s face is sober.
Bad sign.
Really bad sign.
“Doctor,” Nat says, his voice serious. “What’s the verdict?”
My leg starts quivering.
Nat places his hand on my knee and turns to me with another reassuring smile.
I try.
I do.
It’s not working.
I squeeze Nat’s fingers hard enough that they could pop right off his hand.
“According to your medical records,” he flips open a folder, “you sustained a traumatic fracture to your left leg where your bone shattered into multiple fragments.”
I wince as my skin crawls.
“Right, they fastened my leg back together with titanium rods and locking screws,” Nat says.
The doctor puts an X-ray up and it reveals what I can only assume is Nat’s foot. “I found the cause of the pain that brought you to the emergency room.”
“Will you have to do surgery on my leg again?” Nat asks in a clear tone.
How is he breathing so evenly? I’m about to hyperventilate.
“Based on the imaging?—”
I raise a hand. “Wait.”
