When Sparks Fly

A few minutes later the doctor comes in, and London and Harley are asked to step out while I’m checked over. Neither of them wants to leave, but they assure me they’ll be right outside the room. By the time I’ve been assessed, prodded, and monitored for sensation in my toes and my ability to follow her finger with my eyes without moving my head, Declan has returned.

He looks clean but exhausted as the three of them step back into the room to discuss my extensive healing and treatment plan with the doctor. “Once you’re able to sit up and move from the bed to a wheelchair, we’ll be able to release you. However, you’re going to need a lot of support, particularly during the first few weeks.”

“So I can go home soon?” I ask hopefully.

“Depending on how you progress, it’s a possibility, but we don’t want to rush anything.”

“How soon is soon?” I want to be at home, not in a hospital bed with all the unfamiliar smells and sounds.

“It’s one step at a time, Avery. The breaks in your arm are clean, and we’re hoping for a six-week healing time, but your leg has multiple breaks, and because of the femur fracture, we’re looking at closer to eight weeks’ recovery time. The bruised ribs and hairline fractures mean you’re going to need to take it easy for quite a while, and you won’t be able to use crutches until your ribs have healed. We’ll be able to assess your recovery time and what the next steps will be in a couple of weeks.”

Harley steps up and slips her hand into mine as dismay starts to take over. Weeks of rest and relaxation might sound like a dream to some people, but to me it’s a nightmare. I need to stay busy, and being physically active is part of that.

I remember what it was like when I had to have pins put in my ankle as a teen, before my parents passed. Two months of sitting around watching TV, not being able to do the things I loved was torture back then. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’ll be like now.

It feels a lot like I can’t breathe. “What does all of this mean?”

“You’ll need someone to be with you around the clock to help you with your basic needs and moving around for the first couple of weeks in order to avoid any potential setbacks. Your injuries could have been far worse, and we’re very lucky that we were able to treat you as quickly as we did; otherwise, the prognosis might not be as positive. But you’ll be able to walk again and have full use of your arm.”

“I’ll be able to walk again?” The alarm is clear in my tone. “What about sports? Will I be able to play again?”

“It’s possible that no-contact sports could be acceptable, but we’ll need to assess that as you heal.”

“Right. Okay.” My mind feels like it’s spinning out of control. How will I bathe? Use the bathroom? How am I going to sleep? Get into my bed?

The doctor says she’ll be back later today, giving us time to discuss the bomb that has been dropped on me.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, just take a breath.” Harley brushes my hair away from my face, and I realize I’m in full-on panic mode, breath coming in short, quick bursts, nausea making my stomach ache and twist.

“Obviously you’ll come stay with us while you’re healing,” London says, all authority, her hard eyes on Declan.

They usually get along, but right now I can feel the animosity brewing, and I’m not sure what’s happened in the past few days, apart from me ending up in my current state.

“She’ll come home with me. I’ll take care of Avery,” Declan, who has been hanging back so far, says with quiet certainty, as if any other option is ridiculous.

“Like hell she will,” London snaps. “You were supposed to be with her when this happened.” She jabs a finger in my direction, her expression fierce, but her chin trembling.

Declan runs a hand through his hair, and his jaw clenches and releases several times, as if he’s trying to compose himself and struggling to do so. “I know. And I wish I could go back in time and fix it, but I can’t. I’ve already cleared time off with my boss, and she’s agreed to let me work from home.” His gaze shifts to me, imploring. “I let you down and I’m so sorry about that. If you want to stay with London and Harley, I completely understand, but I’ve already made arrangements with work and I’ve talked to the doctors, so I know exactly what I need to make you comfortable while you’re recovering.”

His guilt feels like another body in the room.