Page 49 of Until He Scores

“Tonight makes day three,” Dr. Jay said. “You were rushed here from the arena after you passed out on the bench.”

Oh, I guess I didn’t puke on myself. “I had a fever.”

“You did,” Dr. Jay agreed. “A very high one.”

“But I was cold too.” I frowned.

“The staff put cold pack and bags of ice all around you,” Pope said. “They were trying to manually bring your fever down.”

“By the time you arrived here,” Dr. Jay said you were on the verge of a hundred-and-three-degree fever.”

“Oh. That’s really bad.” I’d taken the ibuprofen in hopes of bringing it down along with drinking those sports drinks. Guess I’d been too far gone by then. “My knee really hurt. Hot to the touch and swollen. A few white bumps.”

“When did you notice that?” Dr. Jay opened my file.

“Uh... Before the pre-game meeting with Coach.” I cleared my throat. “I’d had a low-grade fever on and off too, but I chalked it up to the schedule, rehab, and strain.” I cut my gaze toward Pope who stared a hole in me. “Don’t look at me like that. Most of us played through bronchitis or some other illness. You know this. We’ve done it a few times as kids.”

“This wasn’t bronchitis,” Pope said through clenched teeth.

“He’s right.” Dr. Jay sat forward bracing his elbows on his knees. “You had a staph infection and the beginning stages of sepsis, Thierry.”

The news smacked me in the middle of the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. Sepsis? Staph? How the hell had that happened? Did I not care for my knee properly? Had I done something wrong? Tried to come back too soon after surgery? My mind spun with the reality of my situation.

“Your wheels are churning I see,” Dr. Jay said. “There was nothing you could do to prevent this. The infection was lurking in your knee and none of the tests or cultures caught it when we ran them before your initial surgery six months’ ago. Ninety-nine out of a hundred surgeries this wouldn’t have been an issue. All it takes is one.”

“So, it was there when you replaced my knee?” I asked, pissed at the team orthopedic doctor who claimed he could do the surgery without me having to miss a beat.”

“Lurking? Yes. Can I say either way the other team botched your surgery with certainty?” He’d had the same thought as I did. “Not with certainty.” Dr. Jay shrugged. “However, I’ve sent the previous surgery writeups along with this one and our first surgery to a peer review group to investigate. I’d like to say I’m always learning and using new innovations for non-invasive surgeries, so I believe others do the same. But somewhere along the lines our work went wrong, Thierry, and I am sorry for that.”

I waved off his apology. “I don’t blame you, Dr. Jay. You took almost all my pain away when you replaced my knee.”

“Well, I appreciate your vote of confidence. Now, let’s talk about the new knee and what I’ve done to help you heal properly this time.”

The whole time Dr. Jay explained the subsequent surgery and my new knee, Pope didn’t leave my side. Not even when the nurse checked my catheter or emptied the bag. That was totally embarrassing. At least until tomorrow, I had to stay in bed then physical therapy would come in and get me moving again.

Once everyone left, Pope stood to stretch then paced. The unease rolling off him hurt my head. Or maybe not being able to eat in seventy-two hours, either way... “Pope, stop pacing, please. You’re making me dizzy.”

He spun around, guilt on his face as he released a breath ten times bigger than him. “We should talk.”

Yeah, I figured. I thought I’d have a bit more time, all things considered. But I was stuck here so maybe getting all our issues out on the table was for the best. At least now he could leave and there’d be no ill-will between us. “Sure, what about?”

He frowned. “Derrick.”

Oh. Not exactly what I suspected. Then again, he had showed up to the same game Pope was at. “What did he have to say?”

Pope stared at me, and my stomach gave a nervous turn. Like whatever he was about to tell me could end up hurting me more than Derrick.Like always.“He’s been trying to get in here and while the medical team worked on you at the arena. He’s made a fuss over everything. Even today, down in the lobby, he was harassing all the guards.”

Yep, typical Derrick. “Did he threaten to get his lawyer?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Pope said. “I’m going to cut straight to it. I think he wants an angle. Maybe views on his social media? Before you knocked out, he was taking videos or photos of the game and being generally annoying.”

Sounded like Derrick, too. Not caring about those around him, making the moments about him instead of who he supported. I’d fallen prey to his schtick before. Nice to know someone else saw him for what he was worth. “Sorry about that.”

Pope made a sour face, rearing back as if someone slapped him or he touched something he shouldn’t have. “Why are you apologizing for that piece of shit excuse for a human? He’s done nothing but been rude, self-centered and a borderline stalkersince the incident. I put your phone on the charger I picked up from your pla?—”

“You went to my home?”

“Lily-Mae took me,” he said. “We didn’t want you to not have clean clothes or your toiletries.”

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