Page 11 of Necessary Roughness

He was currently strapped onto a rolling cot inside an ambulance while the paramedics tried to joke with him to take his mind off the agonizing pain he was in.

“We’ve seen the ol’ plastic bag and duct tape thing on post-surgical knees before,” one of the guys said. “Things are cool until your legs go out from under you.”

“At least you didn’t hit your head.”

“Well, let’s be thankful for small favors,” he bit out. “It fucking hurts.”

“I’ll bet,” the guy said. “You’re burning through everything you’ve had already. We’re going to have to wait to give you more until you’ve seen the doc, unfortunately.”

“Didn’t anyone tell you to use a wheelchair or shower stool?” the other guy asked.

“There’s a bench in my shower already—”

“It wasn’t deep enough,” the guy explained.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” Tanner said.

He knew he wasn’t critical, so there were no lights and sirens. He had to hand it to the driver, though: the guy put his foot into it. He glanced out the windows to see the ambulance exiting the Mercer Island tunnel. They were less than ten minutes from the hospital. He’d have more tests, the orthopedist would throw a shit fit over the condition of the surgical repairs he and his colleagues had spent several hours working on six months ago, and hopefully there would be some additional pain meds while they all figured out what to do next.

He felt his phone buzzing in his hand. He held it up in front of his face so he could see it. A text from Harrison. The guy was his best friend, but damn, he needed to get a life or something.

Already at Virginia Mason. You won’t believe who walked in.

He knew his family was probably on a flight from California, but it would take them at least a couple of hours. Maybe it was his ex-girlfriend Star. He let out a groan.

“Take it easy, bro. We’re almost there,” one of the paramedics told him.

“Please tell me my ex-girlfriend isn’t in the waiting room,” he muttered.

“Didn’t you used to date Flowerbomb, that singer?” Flowerbomb was Star’s stage name.

“Yeah.”

Maybe she got tired of waiting for that boy bander’s voice to change. If he had a couple of twenties on him, he’d ask the guys to check that she wasn’t around before she got into his room and did the usual: she’d call her agent, the paparazzi, and a couple of entertainment show reporters while she draped herself over him to pose for pictures. He was sure the tabloids would enjoy pictures of a guy wearing nothing but a towel around his hips too.

The ambulance pulled into the porte cochere outside the emergency room. The back doors opened as soon as the vehicle stopped.

“Well. What have we here?” another paramedic said.

“Somebody fell down in the shower,” Tanner said.

“Let’s get you into a cubicle and find out what the hell’s up,” the guy said. “By the way, you’re already pretty popular. The waiting room’s full. They’re all looking for you.”

“How much do you want if I asked you to tell them all to go home?”

“One of them seems to have your wallet. You might need to talk to that guy first.”

***

AS TANNER HAD predicted, the surgeon flipped out over what he’d managed to do to himself. It was always fun to see a distinguished-looking older guy in Nike golf wear losing his grip in the middle of an emergency room.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to re-repair this type of injury? I have never had a patient refuse to stay in the rehab facility, either. ‘Visiting nurse,’ my ass. If you had listened to my advice, you’d be well on your way to recovery instead of facing at least one more surgery.” He sent one hand through closely cropped silver hair. “You’re worse than my five-year-old grandkids.”

“You wouldn’t stay in that rehab hospital, either.”

“I didn’t play pro football for a living,” the doctor snapped. “Sacrifices must be made.” He turned on one heel and stalked out of the cubicle. Tanner could hear his golf spikes clicking on the highly polished emergency room floor as he stormed away.

He and his colleagues sent Tanner off for every test they could think of and met up around his bed a few hours later to discuss the findings. After the determination that there was no neurological damage besides a slight concussion, the nurse had been generous with the painkillers. He was drifting in and out while the surgeons decided how they were going to clean up the damage.

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