Page 31 of Send It
The way she’s shaking her head with disappointment makes my throat dry. I hate it when she looks at me like that. I hate seeing her upset, but seeing her disappointed is worse.
So much worse.
“Colson, we have a problem.” Dr. Marlow says, coming back into the room with a giant iPad in his hands, thrusting my x-rays in my face. “Your tibia did not heal properly.”
I stare at the black and white image and notice the plates holding my bone together.
“There is still a gap there in the bone.” He points to the part of the x-ray where it does appear that the bone is missing.
“Oh my God,” Lincoln says. “It’s literally not there.”
“This is unfortunately something that happens sometimes with compound fractures.”
“What do you mean?” Lincoln asks, before I have the chance, taking control.
“The break was complicated and some of the bone didn’t grow back,” he points to the gap on the x-ray. “It’s a miracle you are walking at all. The bone isn’t strong enough to bear weight and your hardware is probably going to fail.”
What is he saying?
“How do we fix it?” Lincoln blurts. “I mean, he can’t ride like that!”
“No. It’s a tibial nonunion.” Dr. Marlow agrees, “He can’twalklike that.”
I pull my leg away from him, “What are you saying?”
“You need another surgery, likely a bone graft to help the bone grow.”
I feel my heart sink, those words ringing over and over in my ears.
Another surgery.
Lincoln’s hand brushes the back of my bicep before snaking around and locking her arm with mine. “Can you fix it?”
Dr. Marlow nods, “I’m hopeful that we can get you walking again with no pain.”
I feel the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. “I won’t be able to race again, will I?”
He doesn’t immediately answer me, but I feel Lincoln’s grip tighten against my hand and that distracts me.
Dr. Marlow goes over a plan with me for surgery. He also instructs me to put my walking boot back on and be minimal weight bearing until I see him again. Which means I’m back on those stupid fucking crutches.
When we get back to Lincoln’s car, it feels like there is a giant rain cloud hovering over us. I can tell she’s afraid to talk to me. She’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.
“Are you upset about nationals?” she asks, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t care, Lincoln. Just take me home.”
She turns the key and doesn’t dare say another word on the way to my house.
I don’t blame her.
16
Lincoln
“What did Dr. Marlow say about Colson’s leg?” Reiss asks, slinging a wrench down on the counter. “I haven’t talked to him since you took him and we were supposed to ride today. He’s not answering my texts.”
I look at my equally unanswered text messages, “He hasn’t responded to me either. He’s probably looking at another surgery, Reiss. He was really upset when I dropped him at his house.”
