Page 18 of SCRUMptious

The surprised look in the doctor’s eyes vanished. “Oh, right. The fire. I hope it wasn’t too serious.”

“They’re evaluating it now,” she answered smoothly and then turned toward me. “I’m going to head out.” She gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “Are you sure you don’t want me to send Eoin or Tadhg down to help youhome?”

Doing my best to mask my irritation at not being able to finish our conversation, I said, “No, I don’tneed—”

“Actually,” Dr. Crawford interjected, “you’re going to need someone to drive you home. You’re not working a clutch in that condition.”

Fuck. I’d managed to block that from my memory. The first six weeks after my initial injury had been pure hell. I’d had to rely on Eoin, Tadhg, and our other roommate Fergus to cart my ass everywhere. I didn’t want to put Lauren out, but I didn’t want to rely on my friends to take care of me again either. And then there was our whole unfinished conversation, something you didn’t just leave hanging between two people. We needed to finish hash this out so she could understand where I was coming from, why I was the way I was … and why I’d made the decisions that had led ushere.

“I know I have no right to ask, but can you give me a ride?” I stared at her beseechingly, willing her with my eyes to say yes, to give me a chance to put things to rights betweenus.

After I’d counted my heartbeat thumping loudly in my chest ten times she sighed and melted back into the corner. Dropping into an uncomfortable chair, she said, “Yeah, sure. I’ll drive youhome.”

“Thank you,” I breathed out, happy to have that initial battle out of the way. “I appreciateit.”

Dr. Crawford swung his gaze between the two of us again. It was clear from the assessing glint in his eyes that he knew he’d interrupted something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Lauren’s vague explanation about me helping put out the fire in her kitchen had appeased his initial curiosity, but her continued presence by my side said there was more to the situation than meets the eye. Not that I was worried about him knowing there was something going on between Lauren and me; I hadn’t been lying when I’d told her Dublin Rugby was one big incestuous dating pool. If memory served, Dr. Crawford was dating one of the pretty young marketing executives who worked in the next building over. Still, he didn’t know what we were to each other—then again, neither did Is—so he stayed quiet until I permitted him to speak freely in front of Lauren.

“It’s okay, doc. What’s theword?”

With one last speculative look at Lauren, he turned back to me. “You’re right. It’s ruptured. I’m going to recommend holding off on surgery though. Let’s see how it responds to a more gentle approach to rehabilitation.”

“You mean, let’s write me off because there’s no way this thing is ever going back to normal and there’s no use going through an expensive surgery again?”

The doctor set his clipboard aside and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not going to lie; it doesn’t look great. I wouldn’t have said the first injury was a career-ender, but it didn’t heal properly and now you’re back where you started.” He cast a furtive glance toward Lauren. “Are you sure you’re okay discussing this with an audience?”

“Yeah, she’s my friend. And besides, it’s not like this is going to stay a secret. My guess is people are already talking.”

He nodded and took a hand out of his pocket to pinch the bridge of his nose. “A ruptured Achilles is nothing to sneeze at Donal. You know that. But athletes come back from them all the time. Unfortunately, in your case, I don’t see that happening. These are two serious tears, one after another. The surgery didn’t take the first time, and I’m doubtful it would work a second. As it stands, you can recover and be fine, but if you keep playing and this happens again, you risk doing serious harm to yourself. I don’t want to speculate, but I’ve seen cases like yours that resulted in permanent damage. I’m talking a pronounced limp for the rest of yourlife.”

From the corner of the room, I heard Lauren’s soft gasp. She hadn’t been expecting this news, but I had. A similar injury had ended my dad’s soccer career earlier than he’d intended, too. But at least he’d gotten to play well into his 30s. Thanks to a genetic predisposition to this sort of thing, my career was over before it had ever really started.

Here I’d been torturing myself to make sure I never wound up like my old man but our bodies were so eerily similar that we’d been felled by the same fucking thing. Life really was a cruel bitch sometimes.

“All right,” I said with an exaggerated sigh as I slid off the exam table. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Dr. Crawford reached for the crutches and passed them my way. “You know how to use these.”

With a grim flattening of my lips, I slid my hands around the handles and hefted myself into a standing position. “Yup,” I acknowledged. “I’m a fuckingpro.”

I took a step forward and Lauren propelled out of her seat. Hopping in front of me, she opened the door and then moved aside for me to pass through in front ofher.

After I’d taken several steps down the hall, Dr. Crawford popped his head out the door. “Do you want me to write you a scrip for some Vicodin?”

I gritted my teeth and nodded, but I didn’t turn back around. “Call the prescription in,” I answered while I waited for Lauren to catchup.

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