I checked my phone while I waited.
We lost.
The winning streak had been broken, and the Youngstown Crows were flying back to Ohio victorious. I refused to let this work against my hypothesis that the reason we were winning was because Rowan and I had gotten off with each other before every game. Sure, winning would’ve strengthened it, but it didn’t count because I hadn’t played the whole game. I would be back next week, and then I’d get further proof when we battled the Missoula Hawks.
Or not.
Because when the doctor came back, I was given devastating news. My knee was fucked up, and it would take a few weeks for it to heal. I also had a concussion, which explained the headache. There was no way I’d be back in time to play the Hawks. I guess it could have been worse. I could’ve torn my ACL and been out for the season.
I was given a prescription for painkillers and instructions for care and wheeled back to the waiting room.
Once I was out there, I kept my eyes peeled for Aunt Ethel. She wasn’t there. Instead, my eyes landed on the tall man mountain that was Rowan Rangecroft. He looked as if he’d come straight from the game. He was wearing the outfit he’d worn into the stadium that morning, but his tie was undone and his shirt was unevenly buttoned. His red hair was still flattened from his helmet, and as I got nearer, I could smell sweat and turf and that distinct wood and leather scent that I’d come to associate with him. He hadn’t showered.
He’d come straight there.
“Hey,” he greeted as the orderly pushed me over to him.
“Where’s Aunt Ethel?”
“Told her I’d come get you. Figure it’d be easier for me to get you in the car than her if you couldn’t walk.” His eyes traveled down to the wheelchair. “Gonna be a pain in the ass getting that in and out of the car.”
“He’s got crutches,” the orderly told him. “I’ll go get them, and then we’ll wheel him to the car.”
“Can you walk in crutches?” Rowan asked me. I could see the laughter dancing behind his hazel eyes. Asshole. I was not going to dignify that with an answer. “We’ll get you one of those little scooters so you can prop up your knee and move around easier.”
“I will have reception print off contact information for a few medical supply stores so you can rent one,” the orderly told him before he scampered off to fetch my crutches… and apparently the list of alternatives since Rowan had no faith in my ability to handle myself on crutches.
The moment he was out of sight, Rowan bent down to eye level. “We lost.”
“I know.”
“Don’t think your theory holds up now.”
“No, it still does. Everyone was just distracted because I got hurt.”
“You really think you’re the main character on this team, don’t you?”
I grinned, thankful for the painkillers that made the grin possible. “I know I am.”
I was bored by day two of my recovery.
I had a steady flow of guests. Teammates dropped by on the recovery day between the game and practice. Aunt Ethel kept finding excuses to come by. Ray stopped by as soon as he finished his work shift, though he looked out of place amongst the football players that had taken up residence around my condo. Luckily, he onlylookedout of place, because everyone gathered pulled him into their conversations and included him. They included Aunt Ethel too, right down to eating the oatmeal raisin cookies she’d brought with her.
Rowan never left.
He’d taken me straight home after the hospital. He helped me to my unit after we discovered he was right, and I could not, in fact, walk on crutches. He went to Aunt Ethel’s and borrowed a plastic chair so I could shower off the sweat and dirt from the game. He helped me into bed, served me one of the prepared dinners from my fridge, and helped me to the bathroom when I needed it. When I woke up, he helped me onto the couch, made me breakfast, and ordered one of those knee scooters to be delivered later in the day.
He stayed nearby when there was company, shooting the shit with our teammates. When everyone finally left, he helped me in the shower again and back to my bed. He made sure I took my medication when I needed it.
He even fretted the next day when it was time for him to go to practice and leave me to my own devices. I assured him I’d be fine. It was me and my knee scooter against the world.
Except I was bored. I was so bored. I wanted to be at practice. I wanted to be with my team and not staring at the four walls of my condo. I lasted about thirty minutes after Rowan left before I pulled out my phone and called for a ride share. I knew I couldn’t drive. The medication I was on made that a big no-no. It was there in bold letters: do not operate heavy machinery.
It took twenty minutes for my ride to get there, twenty minutes of me waiting in the lobby hoping that Aunt Ethel didn’t come downstairs. She would haul my ass right back to my room and stand guard at my bed. She wouldn’t care that I was bored. She’d tell me I had no business going back to practice before the doctor cleared it, but it wasn’t like I was going to participate in practice. I was just going to be with my team, and besides, it was just meetings and walkthroughs today, maybe some press and social media clips being filmed.
There was no reason for me to sit it out.
I kept repeating that on the short drive to the practice facility and as I scooted my way to the room where our meetings were held.
