Page 55 of Unleashed

“Jack.” Something in my dad’s voice stopped me cold. “Whatever the doc says, whatever you decide—your mom and I are proud of you. You know that, right?”

Like taking a crosscheck to the chest. “Yeah, Dad. I do.”

Dr. Preston walked in as I ended the call, Coach Mack on his heels. Coach caught my attention. “You mind if I sit in? Or I could wait in the hall. Either way works for me.”

I waved him in. The more the merrier.

Coach dropped into the chair beside mine while the doc settled in behind his desk. “Dante’s in the hall when we need her.”

Dante, the PR guru. Ready to spin this shitstorm into gold.

Doc pulled up the images from the MRI I’d taken at the crack of dawn, motioning our attention to the monitor. It looked like a mess of shadows and cloudy blobs.

“You’ve got another meniscus tear. You don’t have a lot of meniscus left in that knee, and that, combined with a pretty significant deterioration of the joint surface probably accounts for your pain. Question, though. Does your knee ever lock up?”

I tightened my fingers around the arm of the chair. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“How do you get it to unlock?’

I shrugged. “It just does.”

“You never thought maybe you should report it?” Coach Mack growled, his glare strong enough to peel paint.

I met his look head-on. “No. Playoffs were around the corner. We needed the points.”

“Christ, Viggy. Way to be a team player.”

My gut twisted at the condemnation in his tone and I looked away.

Dr. Preston cleared his throat. “The locking happens when the torn meniscus tissue gets caught in the joint. I can show you some tricks to getting it unlocked until you handle the tear.” He pointed to what looked like white fuzz in the MRI. “This is all the degenerative changes. Not entirely unexpected, but pretty significant. This isn’t something that will get better without surgery. And the longer you play on it, the more damage you’re doing.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Only one question mattered. “Are you pulling me?”

The question hung heavy in the air. Doc and Coach traded looks. My fingers gouged holes in the chair.

Two days until playoffs. My last shot at the Cup. Everything I’d worked for came down to what they decided next.

“Viggy,” Coach said. “Ramos wants to get ahead of this. That’s why Dante is already here. I think we let her in at this point, get a big picture take on the situation. Up to you, of course. Considering you’ve only clued us in now when you’re under the gun, I’m assuming your goal is to play as long as possible?”

I nodded, shoving down the prickling of guilt for not having come clean sooner.

“Then let’s get her in here.” Coach rapped his knuckles on the door and Dante strode in, tablet in hand.

Her usual polished smile slipped when she caught sight of the MRI. “Not good news, I take it?”

I shook my head, but turned back to the doc. “Give me the worst-case scenario. If I keep playing.”

“Worst case?” Preston tapped the monitor. “The meniscus slips, the new locks, and you’re in the middle of a game. This time it doesn’t get unlocked. You’re done for the season. Best case, you manage the pain, we tape it, get some cortisone in there to temporarily calm it down. But you risk permanent damage.”

My mouth dried up. “How permanent?”

“Difficulty walking. Severe arthritis. A knee replacement within five years.”

Dante’s fingers flew across her tablet. “We need a plan. The episode airs in—” she checked her watch “—just under eleven hours. We need a team meeting to make sure everyone is on the same page. We need to get our statement out. We need a cohesive message.”

I’d criticized management for bringing in theUnleashedcrew, citing the distraction that would come with that sort of production. Now here I was, the biggest distraction of all. Just what my team needed. But one fact remained unchanged. “I want to play.”

Coach’s chair creaked as he swung around to face me. “You sure about that, Vig? Nobody’s questioning what you’ve already given this team. Nobody’s going to think less of you for—”

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