Page 11 of Hail Marry
Are you supposed to humor people who are suffering the effects of a head injury? I feel like I’ve read that somewhere. My level of confusion is off the charts, but I shuffle over and take her offered hand.
“He’s not one to toot his own horn,” she says, smiling up at me like I’m her whole world and not a random person she met today and threatened with mace. “Likes to leave it all on the field—let his playing do the talking.”
She’s not wrong. She’s also not my fiancée. She’salsoalso got really soft hands.
“Amen, brother,” the doctor says. He heaves a big sigh and takes a seat on his stool. “Well, I’d love to talk football, but we should probably discuss your MRI.” He looks to me, then to Victoria. “I assume you’re okay with him being here for this part—about to share lives and beds and all that.” He winks.
“Absolutely,” Victoria says with enthusiasm. “Lukey already knows everything about me.”
I try to smile, but it’s not one of my fortes to begin with, and definitely not when I’m calledLukey. Besides, if this man puts her statement to the test, we’re going to have major problems. The extent of my knowledge about Victoria could easily fit within Twitter’s old 140-character limit. It might not be enough to satisfy most password length requirements.
“Perfect,” the doctor says with a wide grin.
He goes on to read from the papers on his clipboard, assuring Victoria everything looks fine on the MRI, which draws a sigh of relief from me. I saved her life, but knowing she’d gotten a traumatic brain injury as a result would be truly awful news.
“If you feel dizzy or nauseated or have vision changes, you come right back, okay?” Doc says. “You know the signs, Callahan. I’m counting on you to keep an eye on her. He points at me with his pen. “She shouldn’t be alone for the next couple days.”
I nod, wondering when she’ll let my hand go.
The doctor stands and smiles at us, shaking his head like we’re two naughty children he’s decided to indulge. “I’m really loving this for you two. Good luck with wedding planning and the draft. I’ll be cheering for you, Callahan. Oh! Could I grab a quick photo? If you don’t mind, Tori. Patient confidentiality comes first, of course.”
I look at her, and she hesitates for a split second, then fixes her gown, wraps her arm around mine, and pulls me closer.
Doc smiles and pulls out his phone, then snaps a selfie with us in the background.
“That’s a money shot right there,” he says. “See you guys later! Hopefully, not here, though.” And with that, he’s gone.
Victoria releases my hand, and we both wipe our palms, her on the sheet, me on my suit pants.
“Eesh,” she says. “How do you throw the football with those sweaty hands?”
“Icatchthe ball. And I wear gloves. Besides, at least half of that sweat was yours.” It wasn’t. I haven’t held a girl’s hand in…I don’t even remember. Given how it went today, I probably never will again. “So, you gonna explain all that to me?”
“All what?” She’s still wiping her hand meticulously, like she’s trying to clean it of any trace of blood.
If I have even a shred of my ego left after today, it’ll be a miracle.
“If I have to explain that to you,” I say, “I’d better go grab the doctor again and let him know to run a full neurological panel?—”
“Okay!” Her palms slap down on her lap. “I’m really, really sorry. I promise I had no intention of roping you into that. It just sort of…worked out that way.”
“Is that doctor your ex or something?”
“What, Tyler?” She cringes. “Ew, no. His friend Ryan is.”
Ah. Ryan. The one who thinks I’m fat and run like a tortoise.
“Tyler came in and recognized me,” she explains, “and he started going off about how well Ryan’s doing, and how he’s engaged and moving to New York to work at a big law firm and…”
I look at her for a second, trying to fill in the blanks. “So, you’re still in love with this Ryan guy?”
“Gosh no,” she says, looking disgusted. “But he dumped me for the girl he’s marrying, so I felt the need to…embellish my life a bit. Bedazzle it, you know? I said I was engaged to an athlete—Ryan idolizes anyone in a jersey—and then you walked in, and Tyler made an assumption. I didn’t even know you were an athlete. I just thought you were half-giant or something. Anyway, that’s how you became…collateral embellishment.”
“And you couldn’t use your real boyfriend?”
She frowns. “My real…ah. Yeah, no. Because I don’t have one of those.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. This woman is doing my head in. “So, the person you called in the car…?”
