Page 52 of Until He Scores

“You know, I thought I would freak out,” he said. “Go into some fight or flight mode. Instead, I was calm.”

“I’m also sorry for running away like I did,” I added. Figured it was best to address the elephant in the room than to let things fester. “I could use a million excuses for why I left like I did and didn’t answer your text, but they’d all be ridiculous reasons.”

“Have to admit,” Pope murmured, “didn’t feel too good waking up to an empty bed. I wanted to be mad at you. Hate you. Then I saw a photo of you and Derrick...”

“I’m screwing all this up.” I exhaled.

“Well, I’m here, and I’m going to continue to be here for you. The way I see it, we’ve got time.” Pope took my hand.

“Maybe.” I nodded, then yawned. “Whatever they’re giving me knocked me on my ass.”

Pope chuckled. “Good. You needed the rest. When you wake up again, I’ll be here.”

I nodded. Sure, he would. “Thanks, Pope. I’ve missed you.”

I could have sworn as my eyes drifted closed, he said the same, but that was wishful thinking on my part. In a few days he’d go back to his life, and I’d have to pick up the pieces of what was left of mine.

“Good morning, Thierry,” Dr. Jay said, walking into the room as my physical therapist helped me out of bed. “Today’s the day you’re breaking out of here.”

Relief flooded me. What started as a week-long stay became two weeks when the septicemia hadn’t resolved itself after the many, many rounds of antibiotics. Dr. Jay reassured me it was part of the healing process while reminding me, this time the full spectrum antibiotics attacked and cleared the infection which took a little time because of how sick I’d been. He’d also gone in and done a small biopsy of the area to be sure he’d gotten everything while the nurses and staff kept a constant watch on the drain for my knee.

“Freedom,” I said. “Finally.”

He chuckled softly. “I have those peer review studies if you’d like a copy.”

“I would. How bad is it?” I questioned, balancing myself on my new set of ergonomic crutches.

“Pretty straightforward,” he replied. “If you decide to pursue anything, I’m at your disposal.”

“Thank you,” I replied, joining my therapist at the door. “So, when can I break out?”

Dr. Jay grinned. “When you get back from PT. I’m drawing up your discharge papers now.”

“Even better.”

For the next hour I went through the exercises from the beginning. Felt like only a few months ago I was here learning to use my leg after the accident. This time, at least I had the mechanics of using my artificial knee down pat. I wouldn’t say, however, it was easier. None of this was. Once more I was dependent on people to help me.

When I returned to the room, Pope was already there and had the paperwork in his hand. My bag sat on the bed, along with a small white prescription bag. He stood when I entered and crossed to me, concern filling his features. I was fine, just tired. Felt like I ran the IronMan Triathlon. When, in reality, all I’d done was use a stationary bike and walk on a treadmill.

“You ready to go or do you need to rest a moment?”

Just the thought of sitting on that bed again made me feel gross. The first time I showered was day five. Once I was cleared to stand on my own with supervision nearby, I’d taken two a day, needing to clean the hospital gunk off me. Which only seemed to return when I laid in that bed. “I’d rather get the hell out of here. I’m going stir crazy staring at these four beige walls.”

“There’s a window,” Pope said, hooking his thumb toward the blind-covered window.

“Fine, three and a half beige walls, and a parking lot.” I tilted my head. “Better?”

He snickered and grabbed my things. “I hope you don’t mind, but I stocked your apartment with stuff I knew you’d need.”

“I’ll pay you back,” I replied. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Don’t insult me,” he said, holding the door open while I exited. At the same moment, one of the many nurses who caredfor me, stopped in front of us with a wheelchair. “Right on time. Your chariot awaits.”

I groaned. I’d rather walk out under my own power than ride in a damn wheelchair, but I’d also worked my ass off for the last hour. I slumped down into the seat and held the crutches in front of me as she rolled me down the hall to the elevator.

By the time we left the hospital I wanted a nap. I must’ve had selective amnesia, because I didn’t remember being this damn exhausted the last time. Then again, I also didn’t have sepsis the last time nor had I lost seven pounds in two weeks, either. My stomach rumbled in agreement with my assessment.

“Good thing I planned on grabbing us lunch, huh?” Pope glanced at me as we sat beside each other in my truck. The smile he threw my way, twisted my insides.

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