Hallie: I want to talk to you too. I’m on my way to the hospital.
Ace: I’ll see you when you get here.
I pocket my cell.
I want to talk to youcan mean a lot of things—but at least he wants to talk.
I make my way through town, my grip on the steering wheel loosening and my shoulders easing the closer I get to the hospital.
When I walk into Greyson’s room, his head pivots in my direction and he smiles at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I look him over, then I glance at his parents and back at him. “You got a cast.”
“I did. And those beauties.”
I look toward the corner where he’s pointing. A pair of crutches are propped up against the wall.
“Good morning, Hallie,” Greyson’s mom says. Her smile is soft and welcoming.
“Hi,” I wave at her and Greyson’s dad.
The nurse enters the room.
Greyson’s parents look at the nurse. Greyson looks at his parents and then me. He shrugs.
Not here. We’ll get time later. Maybe at his house.
“Well, it’s your lucky day, Mr. Stone,” the nurse says. “The doctor came through early for his rounds today. He’s going to meet with you briefly and then I’ll arrange your chariot.” She pauses. “Wheelchair sounds so blasé.”
His mom laughs lightly.
Greyson gives the nurse a smile that looks forced—at least to me it does.
A few minutes later, the doctor comes into the room.
I step closer to the side of Greyson’s bed while he looks over the chart.
“Everything looks good,” the doctor says. “X-rays show a clear image of the fracture. If I were going to prescribe a break, I’d say you did a pretty good job of keeping it clean. You’ve got prescriptions called in downstairs. You can pick those up on your way out. Just keep weight off of your injuredleg. Elevate as much as possible. Keep an eye out for swelling, pain or numbness. You’ll follow up with an orthopedic doctor in a week. We’d like to see you baby this for the first four to seven days.” He looks up at Greyson. “Any questions?”
“Can I attend a little league game this afternoon?”
The doctor chuckles. “I’d skip this one. Give yourself a chance to rest and heal. A clean break doesn’t mean you should be doing jumping jacks the day I send you home.”
Greyson nods.
The doctor excuses himself, wishing Greyson a speedy recovery.
“Will’s going to FaceTime the game for you,” I remind Greyson, in case he forgot. “He’s got a friend coming to film the whole thing.”
He nods again.
Watching through a phone’s not the same as coaching, or even being in the stands, but it’s better than nothing.
“Your dad and I can go for you,” Greyson’s mom offers.
“And film?” Greyson chuckles.
“What do you mean?” His mom laughs. “Are you saying I’m not up to the task?”
