Page 117 of Puck Struck
Another alarm sounds, followed by sirens in the distance. Ryan’s voice drags me out of my fog. He covers me with a jacket, pressing it hard against me.
"Stay with me, Cam," Ryan says, his voice shaking. "Come on, stay awake."
But the world is getting darker and darker. The lights fade, sounds fizzle out. And the pain fades into a strange numbness that scares me more than the agony did.
"Why?" I whisper. "Why did you help me?"
Ryan's face is bruised and bloody, but his eyes are clear. "Because it was the right thing to do. Because I should have stopped this a long time ago."
Sirens get louder. Screeching tires peel around the corner and stop. Paramedics push Ryan aside and lean over me.
In the depths of my mind, I hear words like "significant blood loss" and "possible internal bleeding" and "we need to get him to surgery immediately."
"Patient's losing consciousness," one of them says to another, urgency in his voice. "Blood pressure's dropping fast."
My vision starts to fade, blackness coloring my line of sight.
But before I drift off, Logan’s face flashes in front of me. I hope he knows I never meant to hurt him. I hope he finds his purpose and his future. I’d wished it was with me. But we can’t always get what we want.
At least now he'll know the truth about everything I was trying to protect him from. With one final breath, I finally let go, and the world goes black.
THIRTY-ONE
logan
I sitacross from Dr. Patel, my hands twisting in my lap, trying not to wince every time I move my left arm. The X-rays are clipped to the light board behind her, and even I can see how fucked up my shoulder looks.
"The damage is more extensive than we initially assessed," she says, tapping her pen against the file on her desk. “The liver donation surgery requires very specific positioning. You'll be on your side for several hours, with your arm extended in ways that could aggravate your shoulder injury significantly." She folds her hands together, pursing her lips. "We also have to consider the anesthesia. With your shoulder's current state, we'll need to modify our approach, which adds complexity to an already delicate procedure."
My jaw tightens. "I can handle it."
"It's not about what you can handle. It's about what's medically safe." Her voice is gentle but a no-nonsense tone. "Post-donation surgery, you'll need to follow a very specific physical therapy regimen to prevent blood clots and ensure proper healing. Your shoulder injury could prevent you from meeting those requirements."
"So what are you saying?" I grip the arms of the chair tight.
"I'm saying we need to have a serious discussion about pain management conflicts, infection risks, and whether you'll be able to maintain the proper recovery positioning." She pauses. "And honestly, Logan, I'm worried about the additional stress this surgery will put on your already compromised joint."
I run my good hand through my hair. "Dr. Patel, with all due respect, my shoulder is already fucked. My career is over. And I made it worse by playing that final game when I should have listened to you." The guilt eats at me. "I threw a wrench into this whole procedure because I was too stubborn to sit out one game."
"Logan—"
"What's a little more damage if it saves Ethan's life? I already screwed this up by being selfish."
"Because if complications arise during your recovery, it could affect your long-term mobility.”
The words hit harder than I expect. She's right, and I hate that she's right.
"So what do you recommend?"
"I want to bring in an orthopedic surgeon to consult on the procedure. Dr. Raja specializes in complex cases like yours. If we can develop a modified surgical approach that accounts for your shoulder, we can move forward safely." She looks down and jots a few quick notes on my file. "But, Logan, you need to understand that this adds variables to Ethan's surgery too. Any complication on your end affects his outcome."
My stomach drops. "Are you saying I might not be able to donate?"
"I'm saying we need to be absolutely certain we can do this safely for both of you." Her expression softens. "Ethan needs his uncle healthy and whole, not just his liver."
I lean back in the chair, an unsteady breath expelling from my lips. Everything I've sacrificed, every hit I've taken, every game I've played through the pain…it might all be for nothing if my stubbornness cost Ethan his only chance since we haven’t been able to get a liver as of yet.
"How long do we have to figure this out?"
