Page 64 of Broken Bonds

My mother reached for my hand and clutched it tightly in hers. I could feel her trying to take my pain away, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t something she could just fix.

“Does the pain start in your upper thigh area and shoot down through your calves? Predominately in the back of your legs?” Dr. Alex asked.

I nodded. “Yes; it just keeps getting worse.”

He nodded, resting his fingers against his chin as he ran his eyes over my legs. “Do you mind if I start a physical exam?” I flinched, the idea of his hands on my legs making me want to scream. Sensing my trepidation, he assured me, “I’ll be careful, my dear. I need to touch the area to make my conclusion.”

“Okay.” The word came out as a soft cry.

He placed his hands gently on my thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably when he applied a little pressure. He pulled his hands away quickly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Celine, my dear, it appears you’ve torn your hamstrings in both legs based on the swelling here and here,” he said as he pointed at my upper thighs in two different places. “I can’t get an MRI ordered until the governor officially opens the state again. But it should only be a few days—a week at most.”

“So, she has to be in this pain for possibly a week until you can verify the severity of the tear?” my once-calm mother barked, now outraged.

“No, Mrs. Wilson,” Dr. Alex said in a placating tone. “I can implement a pain-management plan until I can issue an MRI. I want her to rest, and she must refrain from putting weight on her legs—that includes anything related to walking or standing. To avoid someone having to carry her everywhere, I recommend crutches. I assume you still have them from before?”

I nodded, trying to understand everything he was saying and the implications this would have on my life. But my mind was spinning. By his tone, I had a feeling surgery was going to be inevitable… again.

“Ice packs need to be applied every hour for twenty minutes to relieve the swelling and bruising. Her legs need to be elevated above her heart, if possible, at all times to improve drainage and minimize swelling. I’ll prescribe some pain medication that’s a bit stronger than the Tylenol to last until we can get a look at herlegs via MRI. Then, we’ll reassess. Any questions?” he asked us, but he was looking at me.

Dr. Alex may have been a bit of an asshole, but he still deferred to me when it came to my treatment plans. I appreciated that, even if my mind was spinning so much, I could barely focus anymore.

I shook my head at him. We had been through this already, except before, I had to have skin grafts and numerous surgeries until I could walk. I had hoped this time would be different.

“What happens if she needs surgery?” Mom demanded. “What will that entail? How can we avoid it? I don’t want her going through that again. She’s already had so many. Oh, my poor child,” she murmured the last part, clutching my hands in hers. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her.

“If her injuries are severe, which I’m inclined to think they are based on the swelling and bruising, then we will proceed with surgery.” Mom made a distressed noise. “When the injury is severe, the muscle can tear from its connection to the pelvis or shinbone, but this isn’t the worst case. It could be an avulsion fracture, which is when a small piece of bone is torn from the main bone. If that’s the case, then she’ll need extensive surgery. It’s not possible to avoid an avulsion fracture if it’s already torn, but if it’s just a torn muscle or ligament, then ice and rest will be the main treatment. When she can handle weight, then we’ll move to physical therapy.” He paused, putting his clipboard down to look at my mother. “I don’t want to operate on her again. I’m hoping it’s not as bad as it looks, but we won’t know until she has the MRI done. I’m sorry I can’t offer you more insight.”

Mom nodded, taking in the information. “Thank you for coming in to see us during these troubling times.” She stood and opened the door, calling for Ryan to come help me. He walkedin, looking from my mother’s face to mine, and his worried frown deepened.

He didn’t ask the questions I saw in his eyes. Instead, he gently pulled me into his arms and followed Mom and Dr. Alex out of the room. Dad and Ace were standing beside each other, both clearly concerned, their gazes landing on me at the same time.

“What’s the verdict, Alex?” Dad strode over, his hand landing on my shoulder as if he could transfer some of his strength to me. I wished it were possible. I definitely could have used it.

Dr. Alex stood in front of my dad, arms crossed as he briefly explained everything that he told us in the room. “Mr. Wilson, it appears both her hamstrings are torn. I cannot see the extent of the tear until she has an MRI done. The facilities are closed per orders of the governor. Until he opens the state again—which could be up to a week—I can’t diagnose the injury. I have instructed Mrs. Wilson and Celine on a pain-management plan, which I advise to start immediately. I’ll put her information in the system, and she’ll have the first available appointment the day everything opens.”

“Thank you for meeting us under the circumstances. I greatly appreciate it.”

“She’s a special case, and I don’t want her situation to worsen. Please drive safely, and inform me of any changes immediately.”

The cab of the truck was silent and tense. Nobody spoke on the way home, and the radio was so soft, I could barely hear it. Ace stared out his window while Ryan looked straight ahead, his legbouncing. It was clear all of them had been hoping for the best-case scenario, so this news had blindsided them.

At home, everyone piled out of the truck, and Ryan carried me inside to the white couch, putting me down carefully. Ace wouldn’t look at me. He was keeping his distance, looking at the ground, a frown etched onto his face. My gut filled with trepidation. Why was he being so stand-offish? Why wouldn’t he look at me? Was he really going to end what we’d started because of Ryan? I thought he said he could handle Ryan.

When Ryan left the room to go upstairs, Ace sat on the other side of the couch. Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, their heads bent together as they talked in hushed whispers.

“You didn’t tell me—” he started but couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Oh. This was what he was so upset about.

“Tell you what, Ace?” I asked softly, wishing I could grab his hand, but he was sitting too far away.

“Just how severe the situation was. You didn’t tell me.” His words came out slow—pained. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His blue eyes flickered to mine, and the pain in them crashed into me like the waves had days before.

“What would you have done?” I frowned at him. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, and you know it.” Looking away from his penetrating gaze, I stared at my feet.

He scoffed. “I wouldn’t have let it get this bad. Your legs are fucking black and blue, Celine, and you tried to pass it off asnothingyesterday. You told me it wasnormal. Youliedto me.”

I whipped my head back up to look at him, my own anger bubbling to the surface. “Yes, I lied because it was none of your business, Asshole,” I hissed, getting angry. What would telling him have done? What could he have done to help me? Nothing. Absolutelynothing.

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