Page 118 of Slew Foot
“Well, that’s all encouraging but I think we better have you get some scans as soon as we’re back in Boston.”
Mickey nodded. He didn’t look happy about it but he didn’t argue, and Rafe was glad.
“Are you experiencing anything else?” Dr. Pope asked with a frown. “Anxiety? Lack of energy?”
“No,” Mickey said, frowning too.
“Loss of balance or coordination since the pain started?”
“I don’t know,” Mickey said drily. “I’ve been sitting down since my head started hurting.”
Dr. Pope laughed. “Well, whatever this is, your sense of humor is still intact I see.”
Mickey gave him a small smile.
“Why don’t you get up and walk for a few minutes? See how you feel,” Dr. Pope suggested, stepping back to let Mickey out of his seat. Rafe wanted to go after him, but Coach Rasmussen held a hand up and shook his head.
The pit of Rafe’s stomach hurt as he watched Mickey walk up and down the aisle, the team’s worried, curious gazes following him the whole time. He wobbled a few times and would have tripped as he reached them, if Rafe hadn’t shot a hand out to steady him.
“Well, that answers that,” Dr. Pope said with another frown. “Have you had any trouble concentrating or remembering new things?”
“I remember Rafe and I started dating,” Mickey said with a shrug. “And I got in a really stupid fight with his ex both on the ice last night and in the lobby this morning.”
Dr. Pope laughed. “It’s good you remember those. Any sleep disturbances?”
“Uhh.” Mickey suddenly looked uneasy.
Dr. Pope cleared his throat. “That can’t be explained by the, uh, rush of a new relationship?”
Rafe assumed that meant “too horny to get any sleep” in doctor speak.
“No,” Mickey said. “None. Once I decided it was time to sleep, I fell asleep quickly and didn’t wake up until morning, just before the alarm went off.”
After a few more questions Mickey answered ‘no’ to, Dr. Pope hummed again. “Well, I’m afraid this still qualifies as being inconclusive. I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more definitive news, but I think you’re going to have to take it easy until we’re back in Boston. And we’re definitely going to have you sit out the game tonight.”
Mickey sighed, clearly unhappy, but he nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
Rafe sighed too, relieved Mickey wasn’t fighting the doctor on that. And then it hit him. That wasn’t like Mickey at all.
Shit. Was that a really bad sign?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The next few days were the most boring and frustrating of Mickey’s life.
All he wanted to do was play hockey and take Rafe apart in bed, but instead, he found himself watching the game from the press box as the Harriers lost to Ottawa.
And then lost again in Montreal.
At first, Mickey was allowed to do a few light workouts but the ringing in his ears got worse and so did his balance along with the pressure in his head.
He got checked over by Dr. Pope again, but he had nothing new to say.
And Rafe …
Mickey hated how worried he looked all the time.
Their sex life took an immediate nose-dive too.
