Page 116 of Loving the Legend
After the nurse confirms everything looks fine, he ups Adam's pain medicine.
Adam comes in and out of consciousness over the next two hours. When he’s finally wide-eyed and awake, the on-call physician runs a series of tests, then confirms it’s safe to begin removing his breathing tube. A thin tube is then fitted into his nostrils for oxygen intake support.
I hang back while the doctor moves Adam to an upright position and walks him through a couple of breathing exercises. He informs us that the medical team will stop in frequently to monitor Adam over the next few hours.
“I’m so glad you’re awake. You scared the shit out of me,” Ishan says, kissing Adam’s forehead.
His voice is so hoarse we barely hear his reply. “Sorry.”
His brows furrow when I approach his bed. I’m still not a hundred percent confident that he recognizes me.
“Hi. I’m Ty—Tyler,” I say awkwardly.
He reaches his arm out and cups the back of my neck. Not wanting the tubes in his hand to detach, I tilt my head down toward him. He applies light pressure until my forehead is pressed against his. My vision turns blurry as he rubs my neck like he usually does to calm me down…like my dad used to.
He remembers me.
“S’okay,” he rasps.
I wipe my eyes and kiss the side of his forehead before letting out a sigh of relief.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In early August, I return home. A wave of fatigue hits as I lock the door and drop my duffles and pile of mail. The last few weeks were more grueling than I’d anticipated. Adam was discharged from the hospital a week after surgery. Ishan and I tag-teamed taking care of him, ensuring he made it to rehab and stayed on top of his medicine. True to his word, Sid found a state-of-the-art cardiac rehab program less than forty minutes from Adam’s house in New Jersey.
As for the patient himself, some days were harder than others. For one, his recovery was more painful than any of us imagined. He slept a lot, being hopped up on painkillers. Being diagnosed with coronary artery disease meant a forced early retirement from the fire department, which he took pretty hard. I’m not sure if it’s helpful or hurtful for him to watch Ishan leave for work. He became sullen after visits from his old colleagues. An abrupt end to a decades-long career comes with its share of grief. It was hard seeing him down every day.
Before I left, I interviewed and hired a home attendant and cleaning staff and set him up with a high-end meal prep service. But knowing him and his need to be self-sufficient, he’s probably going to get rid of everyone once he’s back on his feet.
I thought I’d spend the offseason training, but tending to Adam didn’t leave much time. I got into a rhythm of waking up early to hit a local gym. I had a fifty-inch portable basketball hoop delivered to the house and spent whatever free time I had practicing shooting in the backyard. Now that I’m home, I plan to make up for lost time.
But first, I need rest.
I push off the door and pull out my phone to call Sid. I read on the plane that we beat Spain by seven points. I get his voicemail.
“Hey babe, congrats on the win. I can’t wait to hear about it. I just got home. Thanks for sending Nat to swoop me. I’m wiped. I’ll probably crash soon. Hit me up whenever.”
I shower, demolish a PB&J sandwich, and crash. I’m knocked out in minutes. Soon after, a nightmare follows.
The icy rain pelts my skin with the sting of tiny glass marbles. A cold hand wraps around my own—Adam’s. His eyelids are swollen.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” he croaks.
I follow his gaze…three gravestones.
My stomach clenches. Mom’s, Dad’s, and a new one, freshly covered with dirt. The rain blurs my vision. I drag myself closer to read the tombstone, but Adam holds me back.
“Don’t,” he warns me.
Terror strangles my chest and throat. “Who is it?”
He shakes his head.
I rip out of his embrace and stumble toward the grave. My steps are like cinder blocks as they sink into the wet dirt.
I wipe the rain away from the tombstone.
