Page 145 of Break Point
“Not … your fault,” he grits out, pressing his eyes shut and dragging a deep breath through his nose.
“What hurts?” Miles asks, his face tight with worry. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“His shoulder,” I say. “It’s an old injury.”
“No ambulance.” Henry shakes his head like being wheeled out into an ambulance would be a complete nightmare. Like it might be triggering memories he doesn’t want to relive. “Please,please,please.”
“Shhh, it’s okay.” I press my hand to his chest and rub it in circles. “No one’s calling an ambulance.”
Thankfully, Dr. Lee has arrived. He kneels beside Henry and sets the kit down.
“Well, well. I leave you unsupervised for one friendly match, and you go full gladiator on me?”
Henry lets out a shaky laugh that quickly turns into a grimace.
Dr. Lee’s tone softens. “Okay, let’s have a look.”
He glances at me with a raised brow. “Who let him play like he’s got something to prove?”
“I tried,” I mumble.
Dr. Lee hums. “You two are a dangerous combo.”
Gently and expertly, he begins assessing the damage.
“No ambulance,” Henry repeats, but it sounds like a warning this time, like he won’t forgive me if I ignore his request.
I grab his hand and thread my fingers with his, giving it a little squeeze.
I’m right here with you.
I don’t care what anyone here thinks of it.
“Deep breaths, kid,” Dr. Lee says. “No ambulance. No dramatic exits. Just you and me.”
Dr. Lee rolls up his sleeves and shifts to Henry’s right side, resting a steady hand near the injured shoulder. “Okay. Let’s test your range of motion. I’ll lift slowly. Don’t fight me. Just tell me when the pain kicks in.”
Henry nods through gritted teeth.
Dr. Lee gently takes his arm and raises it upward a few degrees. Henry hisses, sharp and involuntary, his body going rigid.
“That soon?” Dr. Lee murmurs, more to himself than to anyone else.
“Yeah,” Henry pants, his voice thin. “That’s—don’t?—”
Dr. Lee eases off, pressing his palm to Henry’s shoulder to stabilize him. “Okay. Okay. No more lifting. Let’s try rotation.”
He angles Henry’s arm slightly outward, testing the joint with subtle, careful movements. Henry groans this time, his jaw clenched tight, his forehead beading with sweat.
“It’s spasming,” Dr. Lee mutters. “You’ve got major inflammation going on. And this wasn’t a fresh injury, was it?”
Henry doesn’t answer right away. He’s breathing heavily, his head pressed back against the court like he’s trying to disappear into the pavement.
“No,” I answer for him, my voice tight. “It happened a while back. He’s been managing it. Sort of.”
“Which means this was waiting to happen,” Dr. Lee replies, already reaching for a cold pack from the kit. He wraps it swiftly in a cloth and presses it to Henry’s shoulder. “This’ll help with the swelling. For now. But we need imaging. X-rays at the very least. MRI if there’s tearing.”
Henry closes his eyes, wincing again as the cold sinks into the joint.
