“I’m not letting you—”
“Finish the fucking game,” Jack says again. “You can come by after.”
Ian hesitates for a moment, looking torn until he notices the determined expression on Jack’s face. He nods once, frowning. “Okay. I’ll meet you right after.” He looks to Lila. “Can you text me what they say?”
“I will,” she promises.
She seems to remember me then, turning to look at me pleadingly.
“Can you drive my car to the hospital? I’m going to ride in the ambulance with Jack.”
“Of course,” I tell her. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She gives me a grateful look, squeezing my arm once anddropping her car keys in my hand before turning back to her brother, where security is taking over for Ian, helping Jack through the crowd that is still standing and has just begun to cheer for him.
He raises his uninjured arm, giving them a tight smile, but there’s something in his eyes that is so unlike him, it actually stops me in my tracks.
Because Jack looks afraid.
He looksveryafraid.
Two
Jack
I’m trying to comprehend whatthe doctor is saying, I really am, but the more I think about it, the more it makes my brain hurt.
“What do you mean I ‘might not be able to play anymore’?”
The doctor points to my X-rays again, frowning.
“Well, the good news is you haven’t broken your ulna again, Mr. Baker,” he says, “but unfortunately, it seems that you’ve developed some rare complications after the first break.”
Dee squeezes my shoulder. “What sort of complications?”
“It’s called radioulnar synostosis,” the doctor explains. “It’s what happens when there’s a fibrous fusion of the two forearm bones. It’s incredibly rare after a break like you sustained last summer, but as you can see…not impossible.” He looks thoughtful then. “It’s usually more common in children, and in those cases, not particularly painful, but due to your age and the compensatory movements used to manage the limited rotation while you’re playing…”
I swallow, feeling a little like the floor is opening up beneath me. “But what—What does that mean?”
“Well, it can be treated with surgery, but if left unchecked, or also, if you continue to put strain on it through your playing, it could result in a more permanent loss of function in that arm.”
“I can’t not play,” I say vehemently, feeling panic welling inside me. “I just got back.”
“Mr. Baker…” The doctor sighs, looking sympathetic. “I understand what you mean, but if we don’t move to treat this quickly, it could result in further damage.”
“Jack,” Dee urges me, her voice sounding almost like it’s coming from underwater. “If you ignore this, you could have to give up playing altogether.”
“We’re on a streak right now,” I argue. “You know as well as I do that Lievman is still green as fuck. If I duck out now, and they send him in, it’ll be a total shutout.”
She snorts. “There are plenty of other players on the team that could carry him.”
I can’t lose this,I don’t say.
I know there’s no way to make her understand. She thinks there’s nothing I really care about, anyway. Hell, everyone does. How the fuck could I tell her that the thought of losing theonlything I’m good for makes me feel desolate and empty?
“I’m not giving up the game,” I tell her firmly, almost petulantly. “This shit can wait till the offseason.”
“Mr. Baker,” the doctor interrupts. “With all due respect, it’s imperative that we—”
