Page 73 of The Riskiest Move

As we make our way off the field, Coach pulls me aside. “Hell of a catch, Cooper. Now, get that shoulder looked at immediately.”

I nod, knowing there’s no point in trying to downplay the injury anymore. The adrenaline is wearing off, and the pain is becoming more intense with each passing moment. In fact, it’s making my stomach nauseous.

In the locker room, the team doctor examines my shoulder, his face creased with concern. “We’ll need to get some X-rays to be sure you don’t have a separation. You’re lucky it’s not worse, given how you landed on it multiple times.”

I wince as he prods the tender area. “How long will I be out?”

He shakes his head. “It’s too early to say for certain. We’ll know more after the X-rays.”

Fuck.

Dr. Smith rushes me right to the medical area for X-rays. It only takes a few minutes before he gives me the news. “You have a mild separation.”

“What does that mean in terms of playing?”

“You can’t play until it’s better.” He places an ice pack on my shoulder. “Hold that there.” He walks across the room and rummages around in some cabinets. When he returns, he’s carrying a package in his hand. “You’re going to wear this sling as much as possible for the next few days. It will support your shoulder and keep your arm immobilized. I’ll have you check in with me in a few days to see how it’s progressing.”

“Three days? I can’t practice?”

“No. You need to keep your arm still.” He opens the package, pulling out a white sling.

“How long do you think I’ll be out for?”

“That depends on how quickly you heal. It could be two weeks or it could be more.”

“Jesus. Two weeks.” I just got the starting gig and now I’m going to temporarily lose it.

“Let’s get this on you right now,” Dr. Smith says, ignoring my outburst. He helps me remove my jersey and pads before he talks me through putting on the sling properly. When it’s fastened, my arm is cradled close to my body.

“This sucks,” I say, sounding like a sulking child.

“It does, but as far as injuries go, this is the lesser of the bunch. You can go now, but I want to see you on Wednesday. In the meantime, keep that sling on and ice your shoulder.”

Scowling, I return to the locker room. Rogan is the first to see me, and he grimaces when he notices my immobilized arm.

“Oh shit,” Thor says as he hurries over.

Griffin notices I’ve returned. “What’s the diagnosis?”

“It’s mildly separated.”

“Are you right handed?” Griffin asks.

“Yeah.”

“It’s good it’s not your dominant hand,” Thor says.

“Yeah, at least you’ll be able to wipe your ass,” Griffin adds.

“Oh, good point,” Thor says.

“Guys, I’m sure Cooper just wants to get cleaned up. Why don’t we give him some space,” Rogan suggests.

I send him a thankful glance and head toward the showers.

CHAPTER 20

SCARLETT

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