Page 17 of Tough Score

“Then go back and tell God that he made a mistake. You're too pretty to be my guardian angel. I don't deserve you.”

“I'm not a guardian angel, Reeve. It's me, Keely.”

“Doc?...”

“Yeah Reeve, it’s me.”

“Tell my mom I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

I was just about to ask him why he wanted me to tell his mom he was sorry when I heard the loud shouting and running of people headed straight for us. Within seconds, Coach Bex was kneeling down next to me on my right and Seven to my left, with more than half the rest of the team circling us.

With a possible neck injury, none of us touched him, but we kept him awake until the ambulance came.

Now, sitting in the waiting room with Coach Bex leaning up against a vending machine, stirring his coffee with a thin straw as he stares off into space, lost in thought, and Sam Roberts deep in the back corner of the room on a call with the owner of the Hawkeyes, Phil Carlton. I can only hear whispered tones from their conversation, but what I can make out is Sam agreeing that Reeve has to get the best care available.

It didn't take long after Reeve and I arrived in the ambulance for dozens of Hawkeyes players to show up wanting an update on Reeve, but I didn't have any. The moment we got here, they raced him off for x-rays, CT scans, ultrasounds... anything and everything they could.

Since Reeve hadn't been admitted into a room yet, I was ushered to a waiting room where I found Coach Bex pacing the floor, fielding calls while Sam discussed who the surgeon operating on Reeve would be.

My heart sank at the idea of him needing surgery but I knew that he would need it based on the condition of his leg on our way to the hospital. Guilt filled me at the idea that Reeve protected me by pushing me out of the way, but there's nothing I could do to protect him from any of this.

It's been a couple of hours since Sam and Coach Bex advised all of Reeve's teammates to go home and get some rest for tomorrow night's game. They promised that they would keep everyone posted about Reeve's condition.

My brain is just now starting to process the stinging pain of my scraped-up knees from where I fell to the rough road. Sam asked me if I wanted a nurse to look at them after we were notified that Reeve was in surgery. I had forgotten all about my knees until he mentioned it.

When I declined, he told me that I was free to leave if I wanted and he would keep me updated, but when I told him I wanted to stay, he nodded and didn't ask again.

In my peripheral vision, I see a doctor in his navy-blue scrubs and surgeon's cap walking down the hall toward the waiting room.

The moment I jump to my feet, the movement catches Coach Bex and Sam's attention, and the two men head straight for the doctor, who has a clipboard dangling at his side and his eyes fixed on me--front and center of his vision.

We all practically lunge toward him, cutting the space between us, all of us anxious to hear Reeve's prognosis.

"Dr. Morgan. How did it go?" Sam asks, the three of us standing in a semi-circle around the doctor--me being the shortest by a long shot.

The Doctor turns his attention to Sam. The moment I hear him speak, I realize that he's younger than I thought he'd be because of the high accolades that I heard Sam tell Phil Carlton over the phone.

"We got lucky. I called all the specialists we know, and they all said the same thing, that Dr. Jaxson Morgan is one of the best sports injury surgeons on the entire West Coast, and he just so happens to be on-call at this hospital."

With so many other well-known doctors already knowing about a surgeon in Seattle, I figured he must be an older surgeon with a whole lifetime of experience.

"He did well in surgery. The tear to his meniscus was worse than I thought once I got in there. However, the operation was textbook. He's going to require extensive physical therapy if he wants a chance at play at the level he used to."

"Will he be able to play this season?" Bex asks, an eyebrow raised and his lips tight.

"That will be up to Reeve and how quickly he heals. My recommendation is to get a one-on-one physical therapist as soon as possible to work with him," Dr. Morgan says.

"But do you think if someone puts the time in with him, he still has a shot at getting back on the ice before the playoffs?" I jump in with my question.

I know what it's like to lose your chance at playing the sport you love. And to potentially lose out on playing for an entire season once you hit the big leagues... Well, I just can't imagine Reeve will take it well. I worked with a college player last year with this exact injury before I was let go. He screwed up his knee in a boating accident over the summer of his senior year but the hours he and I put in getting him back out on the field paid off. He just got signed to the NFL as a first-round pick. I know if given the chance, I could help Reeve.

Dr. Morgan's dark blue eyes settle on mine.

"This is Keely Woods. She was the one who was with Reeve when he got hit by the car. She witnessed the entire thing and rode with him to the hospital in the ambulance." Sam tells him.

"Your name is Keely?" he asks me.

I nod. "Yeah, that's right. Keely Woods."

---