Page 101 of Replay

“Is there anything more you can do right now?”

I slumped back in my seat. I should study for my next exam, but my brain still wasn’t focusing. I needed to talk to Josh, but I couldn’t. And if I was… Nope, that one I couldn’t handle at the moment. Maybe tomorrow. “If there is, I’m not going to be able to do it.”

“Rom-com?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer Lord of the Rings.” Nothing romantic, no advisors or disapproving mothers. They just had to save their world, and at this particular point in time, that seemed like a good alternative.

“I think I saw those movies when they came out.” She didn’t sound like a fan.

“We can watch something else, then.”

“No, let’s give it a go.” She shot me a glance. “I think you need this.”

I stopped resisting. I did need that comfort. Let’s see if Gandalf had any advice that would help me make my decisions.

Chapter 30

A Dumb Jock

Josh

Hospitals were not great places to stay. I was spoiled, having stayed in pretty nice hotels when we traveled, but the constant interruptions, the embarrassing hospital gown, the tasteless food and the lack of Katie all made me restless and uncomfortable.

And on top of that, more anxiety than I had dealt with in a long time. It was hard to get a proper sleep, despite being exhausted, not only because of people checking on me and the noise and strange smells, but because I was desperately afraid I might not be able to play hockey again. I was only twenty-four. It wasn’t supposed to be over yet.

Mom had gone to a hotel at the end of visiting hours. I wished Katie could come, but I knew she had her own stuff to deal with and I didn’t have a phone to even message her. Since we’d agreed on being friends again, I’d at least texted her almost every day and had upped that once we started dating. I missed that contact with her. It would settle me, I knew it.

I had a restless night.

In the morning, the doctor came by and I had a chance to get some answers about my future.

She was careful and didn’t want to promise something that might not happen, but there were too many technical words and a lot of probably and likely in her explanation. I wanted a simple answer: Would I be able to play hockey again? And if I did, would I be able to play well enough to be in the NHL?

Worrying about getting traded to Seattle didn’t seem as big a deal as whether I’d even be wanted there anymore.

“Bottom line—is my knee going to get all the way better?”

The doctor sighed. “I know you want a guarantee. Unfortunately, I can’t provide that. But if you do the therapy without overdoing it, your knee should regain almost one hundred percent of its former strength and mobility.”

“But not one hundred percent?”

She shrugged. “The only way to find out is to follow the recovery process and see what happens.”

I understood—she couldn’t give me a hard promise. Shit happened. But I wanted the best idea of what would happen. “Can you tell me, out of all the times someone has had this operation, how it’s worked out?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you want me to include the eighty-year-old woman I operated on last month?”

My jaw dropped. “Um…probably not.”

“Should I maybe narrow the participants to only include athletic males in their twenties?”

I dropped my head back on the pillows. “I get it. So, there’s nothing more you can tell me?”

“I’m sorry. I know this is your vocation. But an athlete in his twenties has a lot of factors in his favor. If he doesn’t overdo it.”

There was a lot of talk about not overdoing it. “I hear you. When do I start rehab?”

“You need to recover from surgery, and then someone will assess you. There are some exercises you can start right away, and a therapist will be by to show those to you. Your team will help set up a program for you.”

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