Dylan cleared his throat and sat in the chair behind him, beside Shaw’s bed, crossing his leg over his knee and making himself comfortable—he was staying a while.
Riley glanced over to us, her fake smile slipping.
“Who is Ayva?” I whispered to Dylan. I, on the other hand, didn’t feel comfortable sitting here while they were trying to have a private conversation.
“His manager.” Dylan typed something on his phone, quirked an eyebrow at me, and motioned for me to sit in the chair next to him. Since he was my ride and we were waiting on Grace and Aaron, I guess we would be staying for a while.
While he diligently typed on his phone, I tried to find a reason to leave the room, fidgeting with my purse to pull out my phone. I should check on Grace…only my call wouldn’t go through. “I think I’ll try to find where Grace and Aaron have run off to.”
I shoved the phone back in my purse and went to stand up, but Dylan’s hand closed over my arm to still me. His phone was still in front of him, but his eyes studied the couple. “Wyatt is caught up in Seattle, but he hopes you are on some good drugs,” Dylan said, leaning around Riley to catch Shaw’s attention.
“Wyatt?” Shaw said.
“Yes. He saw the game and was wondering how you were. He said to let him know if you needed anything and to keep him updated.”
“What could Wyatt do from the other side of the country?” Riley said, dismissing the offer out of hand just as her phone rang.
Dylan put his phone back in his pocket, trying to hide his growing smile. He said under his breath, “You’d be surprised.”
Luckily, the doctor walked in with a trail of underlings behind him. They unsuccessfully hid their gawking as their eyes grew bigger, dancing between the beauty of Shaw and Riley.
“Good morning, Mr. Shawfield…” The interns ran through his diagnosis, treatment, and finally, prognosis.
The petite doctor with the corkscrew curls turned to the team of interns, giving the rest of us her back, and asked for the others to present his case. I listened while Riley, Shaw, and Dylan whispered about what Shaw’s manager was saying about the team and speculated on his return to play.
From what I was hearing, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. In layman’s terms, Shaw had done quite a bit of damage—a broken clavicle, herniated disc, and a decent concussion. They had done surgery to pin the bone in his clavicle, but now only rest, physical therapy, and time would take care of the rest.
“It may be time to consider a change in profession and leave this job to the younger men,” the doctor said to Shaw, who guffawed exaggeratedly, looking like an adorably intoxicated Yeti.
“I heal fast.” He tilted his chin up as she examined him, checking his pupils and then his reflexes.
“Yeah, well, don’t be in too much of a hurry. If these injuries don’t heal properly, you could be back on my table with a laundry list of things to be taken care of,” she said as she looked over the shoulder of the person inputting the information into his chart.
“Doctor, when can he leave?” Riley stepped into the room far enough to ask the question.
The doctor looked at her and said, “I’d like him to stay another twenty-four hours just to ensure we’ve got everything under control.” There were whines and groans from Riley and Shaw before Riley pivoted and put the phone back up to her ear.
Shaw attempted to sit up straighter in bed, and Dylan jumped up to help support him in his efforts. But when his pain was too intense to push his body up physically, I stood on his other side and grabbed the bed controller to raise the bed slightly.
“How’s that?” I asked him as I held his hand. I was surprised at the clarity in his eyes.
“Is that okay?” I asked quietly.
Our eyes met briefly as he sighed, “Yes, that’s perfect. Thanks, Kelce.”
My name in his husky voice sent a warm feeling through my body. Caring for him, even in that small way, felt right.
Riley stepped back into the room and closed in on his other side, reaching for his hand as they discussed next steps. I stepped back and retook my seat even as my clinical ears perked up.
The doctor discussed concussion protocol, immobilizing the arm and shoulder, intense physical therapy…need to watch over the next eight to twelve weeks, minimum.”
“So he’s out for most of the season?” Riley’s face fell.
“We will have to see, maybe more, depending on an MRI. I don’t like the numbness he had in his arms after the hit. But I’m afraid so?—”
Shaw’s head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closed. “But the numbness is gone.”
“That’s probably from the anti-inflammatories we’ve been pumping in your body.” She motioned at the IV. “It doesn’t change the fact that it was after an impact strong enough to break your clavicle. And your body, including your spine, has taken a lot of abuse.”
