On the way back to the house after getting Paisley on the bus, he’d checked his phone. A dart of fear had pierced the back of his neck when he’d seen the voicemail from the Renegade’s doctor.
“Hey, Cole. It’s Mark. Sorry to call so early, but I’ve got a full day ahead of me with the team. Listen, the results of your MRI are in, and I’d like to meet with you first thing this morning to discuss them. Let me know if that works for you.”
Fingers stiff from the cold, he’d texted him right then.
Be right there.
Then, he’d asked Hailey if she was okay watching Evvie while he headed into town for a quick meeting. She hadn’t minded, so he’d come straight to the rink.
Now, Mark pointed to the image on his laptop. “You can see the tear right here. The good news is it’s small. We can get in there and fix it before it gets worse.”
“Arthroscopic surgery, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that sucks. But okay.” He hopped off the examination table, wincing upon landing. “I’ll talk to my trainer and get it scheduled for next summer.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know what it’ll look like six months from now, but I can guarantee it won’t be small anymore. It’s not my call, but if you were on the Renegades, I’d advise you to do it now. And like we’ve said, the sooner you get it done, the sooner you’re back on the ice.”
“I hear you. I have a game on Thursday, so I’ll deal with it after that.”
Mark’s gaze never wavered. “The more you play on it, the bigger the tear will become. Just walking on it’s a risk.”
“Yeah, but it’s small...” He knew he was full of shit. It sounded stupid just saying it. “Look, you know I can’t miss any more games.”
“I know if you play any more games, you risk a much longer rehab than six weeks.”
“Six weeks? I can’t miss six games, let alone six weeks.”
“The choice is yours. But if you want a long career, you’ll take care of a torn meniscus while it’s fixable.”
Fuck my life.
In the passenger seat of Jaime’s car after surgery, Cole called his coach to give him an update.
The gruff, older man answered on the first ring. “So? How’d it go?”
“It was simple and quick. They got the job done.”
“Good. All right, well, you might as well stay in Wyoming through Christmas. Give yourself a week off the knee, but then get your ass back here, and we’ll get you started in physical therapy.”
What he was about to say would not go over well. And maybe if he hadn’t gone to the Leesons’ home yesterday and seen the drawings covering the refrigerator, the little tea party set up on a kid-sized table in their shared bedroom, and the framed photographs lining the hallway, he could’ve walked away. But these girls had been loved wholly and completely, and now they had no one.
Only me and Hailey.
He didn’t have a shred of doubt about his decision. “I can get the therapy I need here.”
“Okay, but you need to train.”
“I know that. I can do it here.”
“No, the hell you cannot. You can’t train with another team.”
“I’m not talking about the Renegades. There’s a world-class training center here run by the Bowie brothers. It caters to Olympic athletes, so they’ve got the best therapists in the world. I’ve also got the rink I grew up on, so I’m all set.”
“We’re thirty-three games into this season. You need to be here with your team. You’re the captain.”
“I know that, and I’m in touch with the guys every day. Look, you know I want to be with my team. I want that Cup. But I’m out for six weeks—”