Page 103 of Dr. Brandt

Why wouldn’t Cameron have called me? Oh, right, because I shoved him into the friend zone, and the ‘Dr. Brandt only’ category. I’m fucking everything up by thinking I’m doing the right thing…and now this?

The elevator doors opened, and I rushed out as carefully as possible, knowing this floor housed patients recovering like my son. The last thing I needed was to hurt someone else while berating myself for abandoning my son once again.

I walked briskly down the walkway that led to the numerous rooms on this floor. There was a glass half-wall to my right. Beyond the railing of the glass was an impressive sports arena. Kids in recovery would go there to throw Nerf balls, actual balls, or holographic balls while working with their therapist to improve their motor skills or just to help them stay active.

I’d previously toured this rehabilitation area with Jacks, and we found the sports arena intriguing. Unfortunately, Jacks couldn’t stay in the place due to certain flashing lights possibly provoking a seizure.

Thankfully, out of this nightmare came a silver lining: my son hadn’t had one seizure since Cameron operated on him.

“Where’s Jackson?” I questioned, unsure of where he could be at this hour. “He’s not in his room?”

“Ms. Stein, he’s with Dr. Brandt and Dr. Brooks,” Nurse Julia answered.

“I’m sorry, but where? And why?”

Cameron, what the hell are you doing?

I heard Cam’s laugh coming from the arena.

“Jackson insisted, and Dr. Brandt thought it would be fine to go to the arena to get him out of the room for more than just the therapist appointments,” Julia went on.

“Thank you,” I said.

I turned and walked to the glass wall where the sounds came from below. I covered my mouth, tears stinging my eyes when I inched toward the glass railing and leaned against it, marveling at the sight below me.

“All right, Champ,” Collin said, wearing his blue scrubs. His short blond, messy hair was nearly white under the arena’s lighting. “Your mind thinks you’re right-handed, and that’s the only way you can throw a ball, right?”

“We’re going to change it,” Cameron added, looking strikingly handsome from this vantage point in navy scrubs that matched Collin’s.

I looked at Jacks, sitting in his wheelchair, and I covered my heart when I saw his right foot move. “Oh, God,” I whispered, choking back tears, finding excitement in the smallest things. This was huge.

Jacks let out a sound. His head was braced in the wheelchair because he still didn’t have the ability to hold it upright for too long.

I smiled again.

“Shit,” Collin said when Cam hit him in the chest with the Nerf football. He took the regular football, smiled at Cam, and rocked back on his left leg before he fired the ball back at Cameron. “That’s BS, dude. You told me you couldn’t throw with your left arm.”

“I can’t,” Cameron said, laughing and looking at Jacks. “Nice, though, right?”

Jacks moved his foot again while Cameron walked over to get the dud-throw that Collin threw with his left arm.

Cam was still a great shot, but I wasn’t so sure he nailed Collin in the chest by throwing that with his left arm.

“Throw that shit back to me,” Collin said. I rolled my eyes at their profanity. They couldn’t resist even when some kids or families had to be around, listening to doctors act like idiots.

“I just threw it at you, Jacks saw it, and I watched you cry like a little bit—” he stopped himself from finishing the word, and I noticed that Jacks seemed more animated than he had since he woke up from surgery.

He absolutely loved these two, acting like stooges.

“Throw it again, left hand, because I’m doubt—” Collin was hit in the gut this time, and he bent over, holding in his curse words.

A little girl squealed and laughed. “He got you, Dr. Brooks. Right in the nuts!” she declared, her cute voice echoing through the arena and up to me.

I closed my eyes, and my lips tightened as I shook my head. Glad these two are setting great examples on the floor, I thought in humor, unsurprised.

“Hey, Jacks!” Two other kids walked over to where Jacks sat in his wheelchair. The little boy who called his name rubbed the top of his shoulder carefully. “Feeling good?”

Jacks moved his head just enough to let me see from here that his answer was yes.

---