Page 24 of Big Trouble
If I could work on the bike for the afternoon, I’d be able to see her again real soon.
My resolve lasted all of about three minutes until I couldn’t get the spark plug out. I struggled as I fought with the damn plug, swearing at it, like that would help shift it.
Whether Maddox was keeping an eye one me or whether he simply realized what was going, I wasn’t sure. But he came over.
“Let me help,” he said, quietly.
“I don’t want your help,” I snapped back, trying to wrestle the plug out myself and regretting every second.
He chuckled, observing my distress. “Oh, I know. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to give it to you anyway. Move over, dumbass.”
I stepped away, feeling utterly defeated.
My phone pinged with a timely reminder. I’d completely forgotten I was meant to be seeing an orthopedic specialist in town. Mom had set up the appointment, insisting it would save me from having to go into the city again.
“Gotta go,” I mumbled to Maddox. “Doctor’s appointment. Thanks for the help.”
I could feel Maddox’s gaze boring into the back of my head as I walked away.
On the drive over to the hospital a million thoughts fought for space in my head. If I got cleared to race again, could I do it? But if I didn’t do that, the one thing I had my whole identity tied up with, then what the hell was I going to do with my life? I’d be no good to anyone.
My head told me it wouldn’t be as straightforward as getting back in the saddle.
My heart told me I had to.
My good foot tapped out a rhythm on the floor while I waited outside the specialist’s office. I almost wished I was waiting for a session with Lo instead of seeing the specialist. But we’d go out tonight, get to know each other better, I could apologize again for being a dick.
“Jack Cairney?” A tall, serious-looking man appeared in the waiting room. His dark hair was peppered with grey and I placed him around mid-forties. He reminded me of the doctors I’d seen in the hospital in Austin, which somehow comforted me.
I stood up and stepped towards him. “Hi.”
The specialist smiled. “I’m Mr. Oswald. Big fan of the racing, so happy to have you here in one piece.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased about his admission or not. Still, at least he’d have some understanding of what I’d been through.
We went into his office, which was a lot larger than Lo’s. His desk stood against one wall with the exam table opposite. He gestured to one of the chairs at the corner of his desk.
“Take a seat. I’ll get your notes up and then we can talk.”
He fell silent as he perused the paper file on his desk. It reminded me of when I first met Lo. How her chocolate brown eyes had flicked between her screen and her files as she read up about my injuries. I doubted I’d give Mr. Oswald the same treatment I had her.
After a couple of moments, he looked up. “Well, Jack, it’s all looking good. From what I can see, physically everything seems to be healing well. The ligaments in your ankle are going to require more therapy to get the strength back. I see you’re in the hands of Lauren Garcia at Cali Cross. I hear good things about her.”
So do I.
“You should be back on a bike in no time.”
His announcement made me swallow hard. I couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. Mr. Oswald had confirmed my ankle was in good shape. It wasn’t the ankle stopping me.
I let out a hard breath. “What if I can’t?”
Mr. Oswald’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to stop you.”
“Physically, maybe.” I plucked at an imaginary thread on my jeans. “Coming off a bike at over a hundred miles an hour can mess with your head.”
The specialist’s face relaxed as he understood what I was getting at.
“I might have been playing up the ankle injury,” I admitted. “Saying it was worse than it actually is because I...I’mscared. I keep getting flashbacks to the accident and it…It freaks me out.” Mr. Oswald was the first person I felt I could try to articulate how I was feeling. Not my Mom. Not Maddox. Not Lo.
