to the oldest Kingston brother. Cannon handles that. And judging by the brief look of disdain Walker shoots my way, I think I’ve just found the family member who will willingly agree with me. This is my fault. He knows it. I know it.
Walker throws his fist into the wall, swearing and yelling. He leaves a sizable dent in the drywall. The other families around the waiting room keep shift about uncomfortably, eyeing the agitated tower of a man. Lucas and Cannon try to calm him, which isn’t easy since they’re both pretty worked up themselves.
“We’re pressing charges,” Walker announces, not missing a beat.
“Frank’s law firm is already on it,” his brother informs him.
“I’ll help with that in any way I can,” I offer because it’s the very least I can do.
Walker’s eyes fall on me. “Did anyone record the fight on their phone?”
I sit there, trying to remember. My muddled brain is still moving too slow. “I…don’t know. I didn’t really see what happened outside of the fight.”
Cannon shoves a big hand through his hair. “If other people recorded the brawl, they could go straight to the press. Jude will have to do damage control on top of everything else he’s facing.
Lord. This night has been an absolute disaster.
I should have handled Kirk myself. I knew he was out of control, and I just stood there. I should have pulled him out of that bar. I should have stepped between them. Kirk wouldn’t have hit me. And even if he had, what’s a night in the hospital for me? I would have recovered just fine, without any repercussions.
But now, Jude’s entire career and dream is on the line. Again. And this time it’s all because of me.
After a dozen more eternities of waiting, a tall, graying man with a white coat walks briskly in our direction. “Kingston family? I have some updates for you.”
45
Jude
No!” I shout like a madman, launching the hospital bed remote across the room.
But instead of a satisfying crunch against the wall, the goddamn remote is hooked to a cord. So it comes flying back, smacking against the bedrail, then dangling to the floor. Disappointed. Frustrated. Defeated.
A sick metaphor for my fucked up life.
I glance up at the ceiling. Somebody up there obviously thinks all this is funny. But I fucking don’t. After all that work and against all the odds, my comeback was almost guaranteed. Only to have it snatched from me again in the cruellest way imaginable.
“I’m sorry, son,” the surgeon says sedately. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
The doctor just confirmed what I already knew. I knew it the fucking moment Kirk’s heel connected with my knee, the moment I felt the loud pop reverberate through my body, the moment my leg gave out, no longer able to hold my weight.
It’s deja-vu. This fresh injury is almost identical to the original damage that halted my career and brought me back to this stupid town to begin with.
My ACL is torn again. A jagged rip that shredded through the surgical graft and then through more ligaments. And for the icing on top of the shit cake? The scans also seem to reveal permanent damage to my knee cartilage. My knee is done.
I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the news. I hear myself asking, “What does this mean for playing football? I’ve been in therapy, working hard at it every day, and I was going to be back on the field at the start of next season.” It’s like I’m trying to convince him—and myself—that this isn’t the end of the road for me. At this point, I wouldn’t even be able to say where my injury is. My whole body is pounding with agony.
The doctor takes a deep, audible breath, shaking his head. I read the sympathy between the lines in his forehead. I’ve seen that look before. From the other doctors who examined me the first time I blew out my knee. Pity. More pity.
“Given the gravity of this new injury and especially given the fact that it’s your second ACL tear, I’d say that playing professional sports just isn’t an option for you anymore. The colleagues I’ve reviewed your file with agree. I’m sorry, Jude. I know that’s not what you want to hear.” He closes his folder definitively and tucks it under his arm. “Let’s just focus on getting this repaired correctly and making sure you can walk without aid.”