Until We Fly (Beautifully Broken 4) - Page 11
I’m not alone for long.
A doctor enters my room after a few minutes.
“Mr. Killien,” he says, flipping through my chart. “You were really lucky today. Your artery was nicked, but we repaired it. Your leg, however… “ he trails off, then refocuses. “Your leg was obviously previously injured, probably severely. You had several plates and screws from your foot to your hip. You hyper-extended your knee today, but you also re-damaged the soft-tissue around your ankle. I know you’re probably tired of physical therapy, but it’s going to take some diligent PT to strengthen that area again. I’m sorry.”
His voice really is sorry and so are his eyes, but that doesn’t make his news any less grim.
“Your thigh needs absolute rest. I don’t want you to break open those sutures. And your knee… stay off of it for now, no weight bearing. You can bear weight as tolerated as time goes by. Did you injure your leg overseas?” he asks. I look at him questioningly. He glances down.
“Your tattoos. I assume you’re a soldier. Or you were.”
I nod once. “Yeah. My HUMVEE exploded. My leg was shattered. It took months of rehab for me to walk.”
The doctor nods grimly. “I thought as much. I don’t know what to tell you for a prognosis this time. Since your previous injury was so severe, it’s going to make recovering this time a bit harder. I have no doubt that you’ll overcome it, you’ll just have to be very dilige
nt with rehab. Rest it, ice it, stay off of it.”
His words are meant to bolster me, but they don’t.
Instead, I close my eyes.
“We’ll send a physical therapist to your house. Where will you be staying?”
That’s a good question.
“I’ll probably be going back home,” I tell him quickly. But he shakes his head.
“I don’t want you to go anywhere for at least a week or two. Primarily, I don’t want your artery disturbed. We patched it up, but as you might be aware, femoral artery injuries are nothing to mess with. I don’t want you jarring it with travel. But also, you’ve got to keep weight off that foot. Your driver’s license listed a Connecticut address. Is that where you live?”
I nod. “My father just died. I’m only here to take care of that. I’ll be going home soon.”
The doctor is already shaking his head. “I would rest here for at least a couple of weeks. If possible, you should stay longer, to get that knee healed up. If you absolutely can’t, then you can travel when your artery completely heals. Until then, though, you’ve got to stay put.”
He goes over a few other things with me, and then he slips back out. I do the only thing I can think of.
I call Gabe.
As my best friend and business partner, he and I have been through hell and high water together. We spent every summer together while he was staying here with his grandparents, we attended West Point together, we made the Rangers together, and we were together when our HUMVEE was bombed by Taliban rebels.
He answers on the first ring.
“Whattup, bro?”
I quickly give him a run down.
“Jesus,” Gabe breathes. “I’m sorry, Brand. I had no idea. I’ll be on the next flight.”
“No,” I tell him quickly. “There’s no reason to do that. It’s just a leg injury, not heart surgery. You can’t make me heal quicker. But can I use your cottage?”
Gabe and his sister Jacey had inherited their grandparents’ lake cottage. I spent so much time down there with them growing up that honestly, it feels like a second home.
Gabe doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t ask about my mother, he doesn’t ask any questions at all. He simply agrees.
“Of course,” he tells me. “Mi casa is su casa. You know where we keep the key. But when I tell Jacey, she’s going to freak out. She’s in Europe with Dominic for a couple of weeks, but I bet she’ll be on the first plane home when I tell her.”
Gabe’s sister. Beautiful, feisty, blonde Jacey. She was like a little sister to me, until all of a sudden, she wasn’t. Hormones and sex appeal suck balls.
I hesitate, and Gabe knows why. I’d fallen in love with Jacey, and she’d married someone else. It was a bitter pill.
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