Page 102 of Heal Me, Love Me
“For regular people? No. For athletes with agents who know who to call? Sometimes.”
I snorted. “Guess I’m lucky, then.”
“You’re going to get good care, but you’re going to have to take this seriously.”
“I am taking it seriously.”
“No. I can tell you’re irritated right now. That’s different.”
“I’m not going to do anything to make it any worse,” I huffed.
“Most athletes don’t intentionally make injuries worse. They make them worse because they feel better for five minutes and decide they don’t need to follow medical advice.”
“What happens if it’s bad?” I was almost too scared to ask, but I needed to know.
“Then we deal with it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer worth giving until we know what we’re dealing with. For tonight, ice it, take whatever meds they gave you if you need it, and keep the sling on. Tomorrow, we’ll get more information.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“I’ll email you the appointment details.”
“Thanks.”
“And Keaton?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t test the shoulder tonight.”
“Why does everyone treat me like I’m a little kid?”
“Because you’re an athlete, and athletes tend to be stubborn.”
“True,” I agreed. “Thanks for hooking me up with the doctor. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.”
After we ended the call, I set the phone on the couch beside me and rested against the cushions.
Mason waited almost five full seconds before speaking, which had to be a record for him. “So what’s the plan?”
“You’re really going to sit there and pretend you didn’t hear everything?”
He shrugged. “Your agent’s voice was a little muffled.”
I shook my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
He beamed.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll be the one to decide that.” He smirked.
“I’ve got an appointment with an orthopedic specialist in the morning,” I stated to answer his original question. “Can you drive me?”
“Whatever you need.” He nodded, then turned on the TV.
