Bulldozer (Hard to Love 3)

Sirens blaring, we head to the hospital while EMTs work on getting his vitals and more. I grip Grant’s hand, pressing his taped-up fingers to my lips.

Time keeps ticking. The only thing that stops is my heart.

Three hours outside of the surgery ward with only a green plastic chair and the smell of 409 and ammonia to keep me company, watching the clock on the wall that seemed at a standstill. I double-checked it against the one on my phone once and remembered all the pictures we’d taken on the beach when Sam got back from California. Grant’s and Sam’s smiling faces staring back at me. I asked Calvin and Camilla to take Sam back to their place. I didn’t want him here in case the surgery went badly.

The voices started creeping in. That I fucked up again. Berating myself. For wasting time. For holding onto fears that didn’t serve me. They certainly couldn’t protect me from heartbreak––or the man I love from injury. I also spent the time praying for another chance.

Just one more, God. I promise I won’t squander this one.

“Amanda Shaw,” a man calls out. “Family member of Grant Hendricks?” My head jerks up, my hair a knotted mess from repeatedly running my fingers through it falling over my eyes. I look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket. Gathering it quickly in a ponytail, I jump out of my seat.

“Right here!” I run toward the doctor with my heart in my throat, a clammy sweat covering my body. The doctor looks exhausted. He gives me a weary smile. Never a good sign.

Unbeknownst to me, Grant had changed his will. When he did it, I may never know but I’m grateful. Naming me next of kin means doctors were free to talk to me about what was happening to him medically. I would’ve been climbing the walls otherwise. I don’t even know how to reach his family––I don’t even know if Grant would want me to.

“The surgery went better than expected,” he says without prompt. “I didn’t have to do a lumbar fusion, which is great news for him if he wants to get back on the field.”

My stomach fills with bile at the prospect of seeing Grant back out there…but I promised him I was with him no matter what and I meant it.

“We repaired the bone graft. Twelve weeks recovery and he’ll be as good as new.”

I bend over, placing my hands on my knees as the adrenaline that has been keeping me upright fades. After a deep breath, I straighten. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“He’ll get my bill.” The doctor examines me closely. “Off the record? The man’s put up gaudy numbers, no shame in retiring while he’s still on top.”

Hand on the Good Book, the image that crosses my mind in that moment is the Kathy Bates character in Misery breaking James Caan’s ankle to keep him housebound and helpless. I’m not completely ruling it out yet…that’s plan B.

“I couldn’t agree more but I’ll support whatever decision he makes.” As much as it pains me to say it, I mean it nonetheless.

The doctor gives me a knowing smirk. “He’ll be in intensive care for the day. It’ll be a while before he’s lucid. He’s on his way there now.”

Thank you, God.

Of their own accord, my feet start moving, carrying me to my second chance. And this time, I won’t screw it up.

He’s still mostly out of it for the next few hours. I step outside to call Calvin and let everyone in on the good news. After which, I’m so totally emotionally and physically drained that I drag my listless body to the first floor Starbucks and get a triple shot latte.

I’m feeling slightly more human when I step back into Grant’s room. He’s wide awake, his bed elevated in a more upright position. Sensing me, his head turns in my direction.

There are moments in life that stay with you forever. Sam’s birth. Calvin’s name being called out on draft night. Hitting bottom with the drinking. That was my list until this moment.

As we stare at each other, no big revelations hit me. No lightning strikes. Even my leotard-wearing Wonder Woman stays silent. Because my soul already knows, has known all along.

I love this man beyond measure, beyond my own fears and hang-ups. It’s a moment you don’t turn back from. I’m going to stick by him forever and if that means one year or forty doesn’t matter.

“I love you.” Grant’s chin trembles, his jaw hardens. The pressure cooker is about to blow. “I love you so much I can’t do this life without you. I can’t…I…” He exhales roughly, nods and bites the inside of his cheek. “I am a hopeless fucking idiot, but I’m your idiot––if you’ll still have me.”