Page 28 of Punked By the Playmaker
Scary as hell, but that pretty much summed it up. The minute I knew she was mine, my whole world changed, and Maisie stood firmly at the center of it.
“You said she showed up at your door.” I could tell he was trying to put the pieces together. “Did someone drop her off? Is that why you asked about foster care?”
“It’s so complicated I can barely see straight with how badly my head is swimming, man. Neither of us has any clue who her mom is since she was adopted. The people who were raising her died, and she technically ran away from her foster home to find me.”
Benji let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
“That’s not even the half of it. She, uh, has a prosthetic leg that doesn’t fit well and is causing all kinds of problems for her, and I guess whatever insurance the state provides didn’t cover enoughphysical therapy, so her gait’s off, which would be an issue even with a proper prosthesis.”
“You’re right. That is a lot,” he breathed. “And unfortunately, the federally funded insurance just isn’t enough to cover the complex medical needs of kids with disabilities.”
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath.
“I’m really sorry Maisie wasn’t getting the care she deserved.”
A scoff fell from my lips. “You and me both.”
“I wish I could tell you it gets easier, that eventually you’ll stop beating yourself up for not being there, but that would be a lie. The past can’t be changed; all you can control is making sure their future is bright enough that what came before fades into the background.”
I nodded, more to myself than to him. “You’re right. Thanks for not sending me to voicemail.”
An amused chuckle came from Benji. “I was tempted.”
There was certainly no love lost between me and my former linemate. But when I’d needed him most, he was there, and that’s not something I would soon forget.
“Levi?” Arizona’s voice sounded from my right, and I lifted my head. “The rep from CYS is here.”
Holding up a finger to let her know I’d be there in a minute, I spoke to Benji. “I gotta go, but I owe you a drink the next time I’m in Hartford.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he teased.
We said our goodbyes and hung up.
Though it hadn’t been in my plans, I was someone’s dad. And that meant playtime was over.
From this day forward, Maisie would come first.
Chapter 9
Arizona
Bitbybit,Leviwas unraveling. It would have been amusing after the hell he’d put me through if his mental distress wasn’t directly tied to the well-being of an innocent child.
The first chink in his armor occurred during triage check-in. While filling out the paperwork, he had to keep asking Maisie for information—simple stuff that any father would know—and it visibly frustrated him.
Once we were taken back to the treatment area, Maisie’s broken blisters were cleaned and treated with an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection before an orthopedist joined us, and Levi had to sit there while she shared the gruesome details of her amputation and subsequent recovery. When asked about physical therapy after surgery, she confessed that insurance hadn’t covered it beyond a few sessions, so she’d mostly had to learn how to walk with her prosthesis on her own.
After that came the prosthetist, who didn’t need more than one look at Maisie’s artificial leg to determine it was ill-fitting.He showed us the inside of the socket, pointing out smooth spots that indicated pressure points—places where the fit against her residual limb caused friction. When he asked to see Maisie’s liner—the silicone sleeve that protected her skin from the socket—it was nearly worn through, providing next to no cushion for her residual limb, yet another thing insurance placed a limit on for replacement within a given time frame.
Then there was the psych consult to check on Maisie’s mental state after the loss of her adoptive parents. Levi’s fists clenched when the first tear slid down her cheek, almost as if he was prepared to physically fight anything that brought her sadness.
Now, he was losing his mind over the mention of a group home.
“An orphanage?” Levi’s booming voice bounced off the walls of the tiny room.
The no-nonsense woman from CYS, Hilda—who’d already read Maisie the riot act for running away, citing that everyone back home was terrified she’d been abducted or worse—was unimpressed by his tantrum.
“Mr. Nixon, keep your voice down.”
