Page 76 of Shoot Your Shot

Walking over to the stool, he sits down. “That’s great to hear. I have some good news for you too.”

Out of instinct, his words send me looking at my wife, who chews her lip nervously. No doubt waiting to hear that I’m cleared to go back to work.

Taking her hand in mine, I bring it to my lips before turning back toward the doctor and waiting for what he has to say.

Standing up, he walks toward the screen and hits a small black button, lighting the screen up. He takes a few films from the counter and slaps them against it.

“This is your heart. So, if there was ever a question if you had one, we can confidently put that to rest,” he jokes, pointing toward the pictures.

“I’ll let the team know,” Coach chimes in. “They weren’t so sure.”

I roll my eyes, smirking. “Unreal really.”

“So, these are your scans from when you first came in. And then these over here are from today.” He smacks his finger against them. “Mr. Kolburne, your heart is almost one hundred percent back to what it was before you took the hit.” He walks toward the countertop, pulling out a few pieces of paper. “Andall of your levels? They look great. You passed every test we ran with flying colors.”

His face grows strained, and he sets the papers down and turns off the light before sitting back down again.

“Where’s thebut?” I say nonchalantly because judging by this dude’s face, there is one. “Get this kick to my nuts over with, would ya?”

He looks from Coach to me and sighs. “Even after all these tests and imaging, I’m not convinced it would be in your best interest to return so soon.” He leans forward slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “While it’s clear you’re doing better and the tests don’t lie, we can’t look past the fact that you suffered a serious health complication. Kolt, you had a heart attack.”

Before I can answer, Coach does. “In your expert opinion, what do you think he should do? What’s the protocol here?”

“The thing is, this is a unique situation,” the doctor answers, shrugging. “If you look at him, he’s fine. He’s strong. He’s solid. He’s healthy. But we both know that playing at the NHL level requires more than that.” He waves his hand at me, talking about me like I’m in a tank or something on display. “He’s had nearly four weeks off. Needed? Yes. In that time, not only was his heart repairing itself, but his body was also resting.”

He pulls in a deep breath, hanging his head for a moment before lifting it to me. “In my professional opinion, it would be beneficial for him to remain benched and gradually work back into his regular training routine. And then, if all goes well, he could return to the ice in time for the playoffs in the spring. If your team makes it there.”

“This whole time, you made it sound like I was going to be cleared and then I could rejoin the Sharks,” I bark out, throwing a hand up. “I thought that’s why I was doing all the shit I did. To fucking go back to work. Now, you’re telling me that my heart isgreat, but my body is weak and shit? What the fuck was the point of this all?”

“Kolburne,” Coach utters in warning. He knows me enough to know that I can go from zero to one hundred pretty fucking quick.

I didn’t know if I even wanted to be cleared, and now that I’m not … I’m irate.

“If I’d told you all those weeks ago that it wasn’t likely you’d return this season, you would have never taken this recovery as seriously as you have,” he answers matter-of-factly. “You needed something to work for, and I gave you that.”

The veins in my neck begin to bulge. I like this doctor—at least, I did. But now, I feel like he fucking lied to me. Not to mention, he treated me like a fucking child, placating me.

Paige’s small hand gives mine a squeeze. “Just breathe,” she whispers. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“It’s clear you don’t know my player well. The one thing he hates more than anything is being made a fool of,” Coach tells the doctor, adjusting his hat on his head as he seemingly thinks of his next words. “This is no bullshit now though, right? If he does everything he can to get back into shape and we make it to the playoffs, he can play. No restrictions?”

“Yes.” He jerks his head up and down. “I can never make any promises; the body is a complicated thing. But I am very confident that would be plenty of time for him to get back to where he needs to be while also ensuring his heart has more time to heal.”

Coach heads toward me and kneels down. His expression grows softer, which isn’t something I’m used to with him. “I know this isn’t what your stubborn ass wanted to hear today, Kolburne. But I swear to you, if you bide your time and keep putting in the work, when we make it to the playoffs, it’ll be sweeter when you step out onto the ice.”

“No guarantee that’ll happen, Coach. You know the road to the playoffs isn’t paved with fucking glitter and rainbows.”

“Then, help me get the team ready, you dickhead,” he utters.

He cranes his neck to face the doctor. “Could he do that? Can he come to every practice and be a part of the team that way?”

“Absolutely,” the doctor says instantly.

When he turns back toward me, the corner of his lips turns up. “What do you say? You can help me give those boys hell until you get back out there.”

Inhaling sharply, I glance at Paige, and she gives me the sweetest smile.

“All right,” I finally say, pulling my hand sluggishly from Paige’s and smacking my palms together. “But if the playoffs come and this guy tells me I can’t play, I’m going to flip this entire fucking hospital upside down.”

---