Page 130 of Full Tilt
When the doctor clears his throat and begins to speak, every pair of eyes in this room is laser-focused on him.
“Mr. Schneider?—”
“Williams,” Jack interjects. “He plays under Schneider currently, but he’s in the process of changing his last name. Schneider has no place inside these four walls. I should know what it feels like to carry the name of an asshole father.” He huffs out an angry breath.
Helen’s head whips up to me. Obviously, Tommy never told her his plans for next season.
I nod once at her, and she smiles so big that I’m pretty sure I just witnessed all this woman’s dreams come true at once.
“I appreciate what you’re saying, Mr. Morgan, but for now, I have to address him as the name he was admitted under.”
“Call him Tommy then.” Jack shakes his head, crouching down and bouncing on his heels.
I can tell he’s really struggling right now.
The doctor casts his eyes around our group. “We had to place Tommy into a medically induced coma, having sought permission from his lawyer, who doubles as his appointed health-care proxy.”
“Oh Jesus.” Helen’s hands fly up, covering her face.
“From what I understand and from revisiting the game tape, the impact of the hit catapulted Tommy over the opposing player’s shoulder, causing Tommy’s helmet to shift significantly. This left part of his skull exposed, which, unfortunately, took the brunt of the landing, along with his neck.” He scratches at his jaw. “I’ve seen a thousand head injuries in my time, and this one is really unlucky. The CT scan reveals that the trauma sustained to his skull resulted in swelling of the brain. This swelling needed to be immediately addressed to minimize the risk of further damage. To achieve that, we reduce its activity and essentially slow it down. Placing the patient into a coma is the most effective way to do this.”
Tears begin to fall down my cheeks.
This really isn’t good.
“In terms of other injuries sustained,” the doctor continues, almost like he’s reading from a grocery list, “there is a serious fracture to his left elbow, which will need to be pinned. Stitches have already been placed in his upper and bottom lip. He has a badly twisted, but not broken, right ankle, and I suspect he has two broken fingers to his left hand. We can splint those.”
“Fuck me.” Jack shakes his head.
Straight after the game—which the Blades won comfortably—Archer, Sawyer, and Jack flew from the ice to be here. I thinkthey were hoping that they would be helping their friend home in the morning.
I think we were all kidding ourselves.
“But, of course, it’s the head injury that continues to concern us the most. All we can do is monitor the swelling on his brain and then gradually reduce the drugs to wake him back up. Hopefully, there won’t be any lasting damage to his brain. We were happy with what the scans were showing in that regard, although we can never be certain. He was in an incredible amount of pain when he was brought into the emergency room. I’m surprised he was still partially conscious.”
“I’m not,” Archer puffs out. “And when he wakes up and you get a chance to speak with him, you’ll understand what I mean,” he tells the doctor, drawing a few muted laughs from us all.
The doctor stands and makes for the door. “I’m sorry I can’t bring you any more in the way of updates, but I will check back in with you as soon as we complete an MRI and Tommy is moved to a room that can accept visitors.”
With that, he walks through the door and closes it softly behind him.
“Curtis fucking Freeman needs the book thrown at him,” Archer bites out.
Sawyer shakes his head. “Curtis has a clean record. The worst he’ll get is a game penalty.”
As frustrating as it is, Sawyer’s right. Curtis wanted to take Tommy out, maybe even cause him harm. But this is hockey, and I’m pretty sure he never intended to hospitalize him. The way Tommy fell was sheer bad luck, as the doctor explained.
“This whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.” Jensen shoves his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, eyes flicking up to Jon. “The best-case scenario is that Tommy is out for the rest of the season and on crutches for a long while.”
“The worst-case scenario is, he’ll never play hockey again.” Archer pulls at his hair.
“No,” I quickly correct him. “The worst-case scenario is when he wakes up, there’s damage beyond his ability to pick up a stick and skate.”
Holt comes to stand in front of me, reaching down and taking my hand in his. He has ahold of my car keys in the other. “Come on, Jen. I’ll drive you and Helen back to your apartment so you can get a shower and a little rest. There isn’t much more we can do right now.”
“I can’t leave him,” I whisper, standing and throwing my arms around my brother’s neck.
I need Holt to make this all okay. Just like he’s always done.
