Page 91 of Challenge
“No, she’s meeting us there.” His jaw seems more tense than usual, which makes me frown.
A few minutes later, we pull up to the hospital. I get out of the car and stare up at the building like it’s the single solitary cause of all my stress. Not Tower Park or the match where I injured myself…but this building.
Unwelcome memories of Indie flood my mind. I never had a problem sleeping alone in my entire life. In fact, it was rare I ever slept over at a woman’s flat. But one injury and a sideways glance from a pretty doctor and Camden Harris turned into an emotional pansy.
She was so nervous and unsure in those early days with me—terrified of getting caught—but there was a spark in her eyes that cannot be denied. Was it just the adventure she sought? Not actually me? Perhaps that’s where I got everything so twisted.
After we check in, a nurse ushers me up into a small, private pre-op room. It’s got one window, one chair, and one small bed—quite opposite of the lush suite I stayed in before.
She hands me a white hospital gown and bootie socks. “I’ll be back to start your IV once you’ve changed.”
“Do you want some space?” Gareth’s deep voice asks, piercing me with a million silent questions. “I can get these obnoxious sods out of here.”
I glance over at Tanner, who’s currently shoving Booker into the wall over and over like a bouncing pinball. A small smile lifts my face and I shake my head. “You guys can stay.”
“Cosy,” Gareth murmurs and smirks at me.
I change and get situated on the bed. Shortly thereafter, the nurse returns. The three of my mammoth brothers in here along with the nurse makes for some tight quarters, but I like the distraction. Also, I feel touched that none of my brothers have brought up football all morning.
Just when I begin to wonder where Vi is, I hear a voice clear in the doorway.
My dad, Vaughn Harris himself, is standing at the threshold with a tight smile on his face. “Hello, Camden,” he drawls, nervously unzipping his Bethnal Green jacket.
“Hiya, Dad,” I say, my face the picture of shock.
Vi steps out from behind him, a meek smile on her face. “Hey, Cam. You look good. You all ready for the day?”
I can’t stop staring at my dad as I say, “I guess so.”
“Good. That’s good.” She clears her throat rather obnoxiously. “Gareth, Booker, Tan…why don’t we go get some coffee for everyone. No coffee for you, Cam. Sorry. You can have some after.”
I nod woodenly as everyone makes their way out of the room. The nurse is working away on my arm, oblivious to everything.
After exhaling a heavy breath, my father nods his head once and steps into the room like it was the hardest decision of his life. He swallows hard as he eyes the nurse fiddling with my IV.
“There you go. All set now,” she says brightly. “I’ve pushed some meds in there to relax you. It will be another thirty minutes. Then we’ll come wheel you to the OR, so just try to relax.” Then she looks from me to my dad before making a hasty retreat.
“Are you…all set?” Dad asks, standing awkwardly beside my bed and squinting at the machines like they might tell him something. His hands shift along the open zipper of his jacket.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I sigh.
He nods and purses his lips together before saying, “I’m glad you decided to go through with the surgery.” The words get stuck in his throat on their way out but I get the idea.
My brows lift. “It doesn’t mean I know what I want to do after all of this is over.” He closes his eyes like that comment is painful for him, so I add, “I mean it, Dad. I hope you’re not here to convince me to do something, because it won’t work.”
His blue eyes find mine and he shakes his head adamantly. “I’m not here to do that, Cam. I swear. I’m trying to respect your wishes and understand all of this. But I have to be honest. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you don’t like football anymore. I thought being a Gunner was what you always wanted. I don’t know how I got so off the mark.”
I recoil. “I do like football, but not like this. Not when I feel like half a man right now.”
He gets a pained look in his eyes and grabs the chair, bringing it to the side of my bed. Resting his elbows on the mattress, he presses his hands together and says, “Son, you are not half a man. You’re not even three quarters of a man. Even as you are now, Arsenal still wants you. They even sent me a letter of intent saying they want you to sign.”
“They what?” I ask, my jaw dropping in disbelief.
“I wasn’t going to say anything because that’s not why I’m here, but I can’t help it. I’m so bloody proud of you! I’ve kept you with Bethnal longer than I should have because it was our home and I love seeing you play with your brothers. But now you have the opportunity to fly, and I’m so chuffed that I want to shout it at the top of my lungs.”
I can’t believe the words he’s just said. A letter of intent? While I’m still injured? How is that even possible? “I don’t even know what to say, Dad.”
“Don’t say anything. I just want to be proud of you. But I need you to know that if you don’t play football again, I willstillbe proud of you.”
