Booth stood. “And we have to be prepared for the fallout.”
My stomach turned. How would he handle this, when he’d dreamed of where he was at now? How could I be in the room when he learned? I chewed my lip so hard I tasted blood.
William stepped toward the door but paused. “I’ll print the treatment options. He needs to choose before Monday.”
Mac sighed, pinched his nose then pointed at me. “I’ll grab him. Make sure we can calm him down, okay?”
I nodded as the room emptied one by one. Ivy lingered, a heavy sigh leaving her as she slammed her fist on the table, making me jump. “He’ll be okay, Ivy.”
“Fuck!” She groaned and finally removed the mask she wore. Her face twisted with worry as she met my gaze. “He’s finally happy, doing what he loves, and now this shit? It’s not right. He needs more options than a surgery.”
“I read all of them last night, and there are ways to let him keep playing, but it’ll be tough. He won’t have a decade career like he wanted, that I know.” I rubbed my bracelet around my wrist. “Ivy, I’m worried about how he’ll react. Will he shove us out of his life and retreat? Or open up?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, Doc. This is legit. Real. He’s never had a diagnosis before, so this is different. Fuck…“ She stood and smoothed her polo down. “Text me once he knows, okay?”
“Yes, I will.”
She left, and I swallowed the ball of emotion in my throat. I stared down at my tablet again. The cursor blinked on the internal documentation screen. I logged Oliver’s diagnosisofficially. I typed the treatment plan options. I entered the flag code into his profile.
High-risk cardiac: under restricted protocol.
I saved the entry. Closed the file.
And stared at the blank screen that followed, wondering how I was supposed to sit across from the man I loved and tell him this was the moment everything changed.
The door to the diagnostics room closed behind me with a soft click.
Oliver was already sitting at the table, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, jaw set, eyes sharp. He looked between Mac and me, a terrified expression on his face. His eyes were too wide, his knee too jittery.
It took everything in me to not reach over and comfort him. My heart broke for him, and I couldn’t react. I had to takehisemotions, and I would a thousand times. I remained in the corner, holding my tablet as Mac cleared his throat and stood in front of Oliver.
“We got your results back,” Mac started, his voice steady. “From cardio and neuro.”
Oliver leaned forward slightly, his jaw clenching. “Please tell me.”
Mac looked down at the folder. “You’ve been diagnosed with paroxysmal supraventricular tachycardia.”
Oliver blinked. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s a heart rhythm condition,” I said. My voice came out calmer than I felt. It was like I was outside my own body. “Your heart’s electrical system is misfiring in short bursts. It’s not structural. It’s not life-threatening with treatment, but it affects performance.”
He stared at me, then looked at Mac. “You’re saying I have an official heart condition?”
“Yes,” Mac said. “One that flared during walk-through, and it’s one we can’t ignore, James.”
Oliver stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “No. No, you don’t get to say that like it’s permanent.”
“It is,” Mac said. “You’re flagged, Oliver. This wasn’t a hiccup. Now, I know you’re probably worried or scared, but?—”
His chest rose and fell fast. His hands curled into fists as his voice cracked. “I’m not done. I’m not sick. I can’t be done playing.”
“You’re not dying,” Mac said, his tone comforting and firm. “But you’re not stable. And until you are, you don’t play.”
Oliver turned to me. “Is this why you’ve been weird to me? You knew?”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded once.
He stepped back like I’d hit him. “And you didn’t say anything?”
