“She can and will. Your dear father is helping pay for everything right now. Not sure how I feel about that, but it’s the least he can do.” My mom’s cheeks pinkened, but she arched a brow when I opened my mouth. “I’m doing better. I’m seeing a therapist and even dating again. I will still shit talk him when I can to you because we’re both petty.”
“I love you, Mom.” I chuckled. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”
“This makes so much sense now.” Henry hit his clipboard. He didn’t quite smile, but he was amused. “Always nice to see how the players become who they are before they come here.”
“He’s a good one. Dramatic. Annoying. Petty.”
“Don’t think I didn’t see you, O’Toole.” Henry pointed at me. “You were talking mad shit to their O-line.”
“Of course I was. They were subpar and thought way too highly of themselves for a couple of overweight guys with unibrows.”
“Ugh, this is why you were hit so hard.” My mom hit her forehead. “I can’t really condone your behavior, but it all makes sense.”
“Okay, now that my career is done, can I have my phone?”
“Already on it.” Luca walked into the room with a nod to Henry. “Here’s your shit.”
“So pleasant, so kind.” I took my phone and AirPods. “Thanks, Monroe. Such a helpful dude.”
“Shut up.” He winced at the x-ray. “You’re done then. Fuck. Oh, sorry, Mrs. O’Toole.”
“Please. I raised this child. What do you think his first cuss word was at four?”
“Honestly, it could be any of them.” Luca smiled before squeezing my shoulder. “You have a team of people around you who will be there for you. Let us help you. You matter to everyone.”
I loved hearing that. It made me feel like my work as a teammate really mattered.
“Even you?” I teased.
“No. But everyone else.”
I cackled and directed my question at Henry. “Am I drugged?”
“Yes. You blacked out for a minute on the way here trying to be a hero and wave to the stands, but you are drugged.”
“I wondered why I feel so alright. Hey, the pain went away.” I pointed to my foot. “Maybe it’s not that bad?”
“It’s that bad.” Henry ran a hand over his face as Coach came in. “We’re getting him into surgery tomorrow. Three months of recovery, then possible comeback.”
“Damn.” Coach ran a hand over his jaw before meeting my gaze. “You had a hell of a game. We scored three more times after your injury, and their offense couldn’t do shit. The team rallied behind you.”
“I’m sort of a mascot.” I shrugged, definitely enjoying the medicine. I felt a little drunk and loopy. Like I could do a cartwheel. Oh man. I couldn’t do one for twelve weeks. That was stupid. “Can I do a cartwheel, Mom?”
“Oh, shit. No, you cannot. Absolutely not.”
“You are a mascot, so I still need you around. You get your surgery, and you follow every direction to a tee, you got me? The team needs you, even if you’re not on the field.”
“Coach, you’re being way too nice. It’s making me have hives.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass, but I’m glad you’re okay. A broken ankle sucks ass, but injuries on the field could be much worse.”
“You wound me.” I clutched my chest and closed my eyes. “I might nap.”
“Mrs. O’Toole, I’d tell you that this is normal for him even not on drugs, but you raised him, so I assume you know.” Luca’s voice quieted as my eyes shuttered.
The table was more comfortable than I thought. It was almost cozy. It’d be even better if Ivy was here with me. She could be my blanket. Smiling, I thought about her as sleep overtook me.
Son of a bitch.The damn drugs made me forget I had to text Ivy immediately, but there was no time. From the transport to the hospital to the pre-surgery room to now, minutes before going under, I didn’t have time or wasn’t conscious to text her.
